Chapter Four

I dismissed Kaio's words as a joke, a cruel jest at my expense. Perhaps he hadn't meant them seriously, hadn't truly grasped the desperation fueling my search for our father.

But how had he known?

The uncanny precision of his words, the perfectly timed revelation, sent a shiver down my spine.

Was it mere coincidence, or was there something more sinister at play?

We returned to the chapel, the familiar scent of incense and old wood doing little to soothe my troubled mind.

There, in the midst of the hushed reverence, sat Gaile, her blatant disregard for decorum a jarring contrast to the solemnity of the surroundings. She was engaged in a spirited flirtation with a man named Dylan, their laughter a jarring intrusion into the quiet space.

Their behavior, so brazen, so utterly disrespectful, filled me with a burning sense of indignation.

As I passed by, my gaze lingering on their inappropriate display, Gaile's attention snapped to me. Her demeanor instantly shifted, the playful ease replaced by a forced composure, her movements stiff and unnatural as she hastily adjusted her position.

The blatant attempt to appear innocent only fueled my anger.

Guin, sensing my simmering fury, leaned in, his voice a hushed whisper meant only for my ears. "Just ignore them, Sol," he urged, his words a gentle attempt to calm my rising temper.

I shook my head, my frustration bubbling over. "How can I ignore them?" I whispered back, my voice tight with disbelief, the injustice of their actions a bitter taste in my mouth.

The chapel, once a sanctuary of peace, now felt suffocating, the weight of their actions pressing down on me, a heavy burden I couldn't easily shake.

We kept the funeral service brief, a necessary brevity born from both grief and the pressing need to move forward. The weight of responsibility, the sudden burden of providing for my siblings, settled heavily on my shoulders.

My mother's passing had left a void, a chasm in our lives that would take time to fill, but the practicalities of life demanded immediate action.

I needed a job, a stable source of income to ensure our survival.

The black bodycon dress I wore felt constricting, a physical manifestation of the emotional weight I carried. The dark sunglasses, while shielding my eyes from the judging gazes of others, did little to conceal the storm raging within.

The sight of my mother's coffin descending into the earth was too much to bear; the finality of it, the irreversible nature of her loss, threatened to overwhelm me.

Tears threatened to spill, a torrent of grief threatening to break through the carefully constructed dam of composure.

Guin sensed my distress. His hand, strong and reassuring, settled on my shoulder, his touch a grounding presence in the midst of my turmoil. Even at eleventh grade, he was already tall, a full six feet, his presence a comforting contrast to my fragile state. His silent support, his unwavering presence, was a lifeline, a tangible reminder that I wasn't alone in my grief.

Despite my best efforts, my body trembled, a physical manifestation of the emotional upheaval tearing through me. The tears, held back for so long, finally escaped, a silent testament to the profound loss that had irrevocably altered the course of our lives.

The burial concluded, the mourners gradually dispersed, their hushed condolences fading into the background. Yet, I lingered, unable to tear myself away from the freshly turned earth.

Guin had left with Gaile, their departure leaving me alone with my grief.

I knelt, my fingers tracing the engraved letters of my mother's name, a tangible connection to the woman I had lost.

The cool stone offered a strange solace, a stark contrast to the turmoil within.

"I need to go home," I muttered to myself, the words a necessary affirmation, a push towards the inevitable. I wiped away the lingering tears, a futile attempt to erase the evidence of my sorrow.

I turned to leave, my steps slow and deliberate. But as I reached the cemetery gates, I found myself drawn back, my gaze returning to the engraved stone.

One last look, one final acknowledgment of the loss that had irrevocably altered the course of my life. Then, with a deep breath, I hailed a cab, the journey home a silent contemplation of the events that had unfolded.

Upon entering the house, I was met with an unsettling silence. Gaile was nowhere to be found. I turned to Guin, my question sharp with a mixture of concern and annoyance. "Where's Gaile?" I asked, my voice betraying my frustration.

Guin, his eyes glued to his phone, offered a nonchalant reply. "She left with her boyfriend," he said, his tone suggesting a lack of concern that only fueled my irritation.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips, the words a mixture of exasperation and disappointment. "Dang! That hard-headed girl!" I muttered under my breath, my disappointment a heavy weight as I retreated to the sanctuary of my room.

The warm water of the bath had soothed my aching muscles, offering a temporary respite from the emotional turmoil of the day. Wrapped in a soft towel, I crawled into bed, hoping for a few hours of restorative sleep.

The exhaustion, however, was more mental than physical, and despite my best efforts, sleep evaded me. I drifted in and out of consciousness, my dreams a jumbled mess of fragmented memories and anxieties.

It was Guin's gentle hand on my shoulder that finally roused me from my restless slumber.

Dinner was ready.

Gaile's absence, however, was a stark reminder of the ongoing disruptions in our lives.

Guin, sensing my simmering frustration, preempted any questions. "Gaile texted me that she'll sleep at Dylan's apartment," he announced, his voice calm yet betraying a hint of understanding.

My appetite, already fragile, vanished completely. I laid down my spoon, the metallic clang a sharp counterpoint to the quiet hum of the house. "Dang! What's with her, huh?" I exclaimed, my voice laced with exasperation.

Guin simply smiled, his expression a mixture of understanding and resignation. He knew arguing would be futile; Gaile, in her stubbornness, would likely ignore any attempts at reason.

Dinner finished, Guin diligently cleaned the dishes, his efficiency a welcome contrast to my own restless energy.

I retreated to my laptop, the glow of the screen a beacon in the darkening room. The search for a job consumed me, the act of composing application letters a tangible means of regaining some control over my life.

The clock ticked past midnight, the late hour a testament to my dedication. Finally, exhausted but resolute, I closed my laptop, promising myself a renewed search in the morning.

The next day dawned bright and promising, yet the optimism was quickly tempered by the reality of my situation.

Eight o'clock found me already navigating the bustling city streets, my resume clutch tightly in my hand, my heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension. The hunt for a job was proving to be a grueling marathon, each rejection a blow to my already fragile morale.

"Dang! This is exhausting!" I muttered, my voice a low groan as I unscrewed the cap of my water flask, the cool liquid offering a momentary respite from the relentless heat and the mounting pressure.

My feet ached, my throat was parched, and the weight of my responsibilities felt heavier than ever. Just as I paused to catch my breath, my phone buzzed, the insistent ring cutting through the cacophony of city noise. It was Guin.

"Hey!" I answered, my voice a mixture of relief and anticipation.

His voice, however, conveyed a different message. "I'll stay at my friend's house tonight," he announced, his tone casual yet tinged with a hint of nonchalance. "I'll just grab some of my things."

"Okay, just be careful!" I replied, my voice betraying a hint of disappointment.

The conversation ended abruptly, leaving me with a sense of quiet solitude. The prospect of another solo dinner, another night spent alone wrestling with my anxieties, settled heavily on my shoulders.

My weary feet continued their relentless march, each step a testament to my unwavering determination.

Then, a beacon of hope appeared amidst the urban sprawl—a restaurant, its signage clearly advertising a vacancy for a waitress. This would do. This would be my chance.

I approached the security guard, my heart pounding with renewed hope, ready to submit my resume, eager to seize this opportunity. His response, however, was swift and dismissive. With a careless flick of his wrist, he tore down the "help wanted" sign, his action a cruel blow to my already fragile spirits.

"We already got one," he announced, his words devoid of empathy, his gaze fixed on something beyond me, his indifference a stark contrast to my own desperate need.

"Oh! Okay, thank you!" I replied, my voice betraying a forced cheerfulness, my disappointment masked by a polite nod. The words, however, felt hollow, a thin veil concealing the bitter taste of rejection.

Disappointment hung heavy in the air as I turned away, my steps now devoid of their earlier spring. The cruel irony of the situation gnawed at me.

Why post the sign if the position was already filled? Was it a deliberate attempt to raise false hopes, a cynical ploy to attract attention?

Lost in my thoughts, I barely registered the first drops of rain, the gentle patter a prelude to a downpour that mirrored the storm brewing within my heart.

"What a great day!" I muttered sarcastically, the words dripping with irony as the heavens opened, unleashing a torrent of rain.

The downpour, a relentless deluge, transformed the city streets into rushing rivers, my earlier optimism now completely washed away. I frantically searched for shelter, my gaze darting from building to building, yet every doorway seemed to lead to a dead end.

The rain, relentless and unforgiving, soaked my clothes, clinging to my skin like a second layer. Resignation settled over me; I would be drenched, thoroughly soaked to the bone. The rain, a symbol of my own misfortune, seemed to mock my efforts.

Just as I accepted my fate, a car pulled up beside me, its sudden appearance a jarring interruption to the monotonous rhythm of the rain. The window slowly descended, revealing a familiar face—Kaio's. His expression was unreadable, a mixture of surprise and something else, something I couldn't quite decipher.

"Get inside!" Kaio commanded, his voice firm yet laced with an undercurrent of urgency.

I hesitated, my instincts battling with the unexpected offer of assistance. The rain continued its relentless assault, each drop a reminder of my vulnerable position.

"Come on, be quick!" he urged, his tone more insistent this time. The urgency in his voice, coupled with the downpour, finally broke my hesitation.

My feet, seemingly of their own accord, moved towards the car, my body obeying an impulse that transcended my initial caution.

The interior of the car was a haven of warmth and order, a stark contrast to the chaos of the storm raging outside. A distinctly masculine scent, clean and subtly musky, filled the air, a comforting aroma that spoke of personal care and attention to detail. The car itself was impeccably neat, every item in its place, a reflection of Kaio's own organized nature.

Kaio, sensing my apprehension, broke the silence. "Here, dry yourself," he offered, extending a soft, fluffy towel. His gesture, simple yet considerate, eased my lingering unease.

"Thank you," I replied, my voice a soft murmur, my fingers accepting the towel, the touch a silent acknowledgment of his unexpected kindness.

The warmth of the towel, a physical comfort, mirrored the unexpected warmth of his gesture, a small act of kindness in a day filled with relentless challenges.

I continued to dab at the water clinging to my face, but the damage was done; my clothes were thoroughly soaked, clinging uncomfortably to my skin.

A wave of self-consciousness washed over me; I was undoubtedly making a mess inside his car, the dampness a silent testament to my drenched state. My discomfort was abruptly interrupted by the screech of brakes, the car coming to a halt before a large, brightly lit mall.

"Just wait for me here," Kaio instructed, his voice calm and reassuring.

I nodded, my words caught in my throat, a mixture of gratitude and apprehension swirling within me.

A few minutes stretched into an eternity, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the car windows.

Then, Kaio returned, his hand holding a large paper bag, its contents unknown, yet somehow intriguing.

"What is this?" I asked, my curiosity piqued by the unexpected gift.

Kaio, already back behind the wheel, started the engine, his eyes briefly meeting mine before focusing on the road. "Clothes for you to change your wet clothes," he replied, his voice a low murmur.

The simple explanation, however, sent a jolt through me, my heart quickening its pace. His unexpected kindness, his thoughtful gesture, resonated deeply, a warmth spreading through me that had nothing to do with the car's heater. His consideration, so unexpected, so genuine, touched me in a way I hadn't anticipated.