Chapter Twenty -Three
Eddie
I glance at Lawliss sitting beside me, our hands clasped together, neither of us letting go. I’m glad she brought me here today. I’ve thought of coming since I arrived, but I never quite brought myself to do it. Funny, considering everyone who knows me now thinks I have nothing but hard edges.
My parents were my world growing up. Unlike other kids whose parents dropped them off at school or left them with drivers and nannies, mine were always there. They never missed a single event and never made me feel like I was an afterthought. They let me do everything, encouraged every passion, every wild idea. I was a happy kid. Except when I had to put up my walls to keep people from taking advantage of me. Even then, I learned quickly. When I said jump, my parents didn’t ask why. They asked how high.
Thankfully, I took after them. Smart, driven, and disciplined. I liked that it made them proud. I still remember them at charity galas, boasting about me to anyone who would listen. And my dad—he was the one who taught me how to navigate the world.
“Be good to me, and I’ll be good to you. Step on my toes—or the people I love—and I’ll repay you double.”
That was his philosophy. He was ruthless in business, but when it came to my mom and me? The man had a heart of gold.
And now that I think about it... I like him in that way.
Today marks the anniversary of when I lost them. Years have passed, but today… it feels raw. Maybe it always will. But after speaking with them today, something inside me feels lighter. Not healed, not whole, but lifted. Like some weight I didn’t know I was carrying finally eased.
And Lawliss… she’s here.
I glance at her again, her fingers fidgeting with her nails.
“What are you up to now?” I ask, narrowing my eyes slightly.
She hesitates for a beat, then looks at me. “You know what today is, right?”
I nod. Of course, I do.
“I didn’t want to spring this on you…” she says, her breath hitching slightly.
I raise a brow. “You kind of have, whatever it is.” My thumb brushes slow circles over our joined hands, soothing. “Go on.”
She exhales. “So, as you guessed this morning... we’re doing two different things today. And the second part is about to begin.”
I smirk. “Let me guess. This is supposed to be some kind of happy occasion? A celebration for my birthday?” Figures she’d remember.
She nods, then adds, “I just hope you like it.”
I shake my head slightly, a small smile pulling at my lips. She doesn’t need to worry. After everything today, the fact that she put effort into this means more than she knows.
“Lawliss… I know I’ll love whatever you’ve planned.”
Then, I bring our joined hands to my lips and press a soft kiss to her knuckles.
***
The car rolls to a stop, and I step out, moving around to open the door for Lawliss.
“Mi Lady,” I say with a small smirk, extending my hand.
She shakes her head but smiles, placing her fingers in mine, her touch warm despite the crisp air. “Thank you,” she murmurs.
The moment she steps out, I take in my surroundings, my chest tightening with something I don’t have a name for. I should have known she’d bring me here—home.
My old neighborhood.
It’s been years, but the sight of it knocks the breath out of me like a punch to the gut. The familiarity of it is almost cruel—the way nothing but everything has really changed. It still carries the crisp scent of fresh-cut grass, clean stone, and the subtle perfume of the gardenias that always bloomed near the entrance—the way it holds pieces of my past like they’re waiting for me to reclaim them.
I know her family never moved, but I miscalculated what it would feel like to stand here again and see the life I once had, still intact, as if frozen in time. If I was going to visit them eventually, I suppose it’s better to face it all at once. Maybe if I rip off the bandage now, it’ll hurt less later.
But deep down, I know that’s a lie.
Some things don’t stop hurting with time. You just learn to carry them differently.
Besides, my wife’s family lives here. And if Lawliss wants me to face my past, then I will. For her.
“I wasn’t sure...” she starts hesitantly, her voice careful, as if she expects me to turn back.
“It’s perfect,” I interrupt, my voice steady.
“Isn’t it too much? I mean, I didn’t think—” she trails off, biting her lip.
“It’s fine, Lynx,” I reassure her. “I should meet everyone eventually.”
She studies me for a second longer before nodding. “If you say so. But if you want us to go back, just let me know.”
I chuckle, stepping forward as my eyes sweep over the landscape. The old sycamore tree still stands tall, its branches stretching wide, a silent witness to childhood laughter and whispered secrets.
I glance to my left. There used to be a small gate that led to my house—the same gate we all used to rush through to each other’s homes every day after school. Now, it’s blocked off.
I bought the house when it went up for sale years ago, but like everything tied to this place, I never found the will to clear it out or be here.
“This place hasn’t changed much,” I murmur, my voice carrying something softer than nostalgia, something closer to grief.
She doesn’t say anything; she just reaches for my hand, her fingers curling around mine. Then signs Josh to join us. I squeeze back, grounding myself. One step at a time.
We step into the foyer, and I pause. Of course, the Duas would go all out.
The air feels different in here. It’s full, buzzing like it’s been waiting for something. The ceiling is crowded with black and white balloons, their strings dangling low enough to brush against fingertips. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes me hesitate, not sure whether to take it in or brace myself.
The scent of fresh flowers clings to everything, layered with something warm, something sweet; vanilla, maybe caramel. A long table stretches across the dining room, draped in soft black and white fabric, which seems to be the theme. Candles flicker between trays of pastries and a simple chocolate cake with Happy Birthday, Edmund written on it.
It’s too perfect, all of it, like something out of a life that doesn’t belong to me anymore.
I stopped celebrating my birthday after the accident.
My grandparents tried the first year I lived with them. I didn’t react well. I’m embarrassed about it now, but I’m glad they respected my wishes. At first, I think they wanted to do everything they could for me, but over time, they stopped trying to intrude. Not like the Dua’s have now. Because whether I like it or not, they are my second family.
I exhale, shaking my head slightly. “Subtle,” I mutter, glancing at Lawliss.
She just laughs, nudging me gently. “You know how they are.”
Yeah. I do.
We step closer, and then—pop! A burst of sound from the kitchen, followed by giggles and a chorus of “Happy birthday to you...” floating in from every direction, voices overlapping, out of sync but full of energy.
“Wow,” Josh murmurs, taking it all in.
I chuckle because he hasn’t seen anything yet. The moment feels surreal, almost ridiculous, but in the best way possible. And then, as if on cue, Andrei, Lawliss’s father, bursts out from behind a doorway, wearing a pointed party hat, belting out the song like it’s a grand performance.
I laugh outright. The song ends in a mix of cheers and applause.
“You enlisted everyone,” I murmur near Lawliss’s ear.
She smiles, her gaze locking onto mine—that gaze, the one that melts me every time. “Happy birthday, Ed,” she says softly, then leans in to kiss my cheek.
“Thanks, Lynx,” I reply, my voice quieter than I expected.
Then, one by one, they come.
Andrei grips my shoulder, his eyes a little too glassy. “It’s good to have you home, my boy.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. “It’s good to be back.”
Ines, their mother, pulls me into a firm embrace. “I expect to see you at Sunday dinners,” she whispers.
I almost laugh at the way she says it—not a request, but a fact. Way to go, Eddie. But I nod because, really, what else can I do?
When we pull apart, I catch the shimmer of tears in her eyes, and something in me twists. I’ve never seen her this close to breaking, not even when I was younger. And because I don’t know what else to do, I pull her back into my arms.
“I’m fine,” I murmur into her hair.
She exhales, nodding, then straightens, composing herself like nothing happened.
“Happy birthday, mate,” Aria says, clapping me on the back.
Before I can respond, Elisa raises a brow, her gaze flicking between Lawliss and me. “You two an item now?”
I chuckle, saying, “Yeah,” as I pull her into a hug. She used to be so small, so quiet. Now, she’s the loudest in the room, with no filter whatsoever. Funny how time shapes people. I wonder what shaped her.
Before I can dwell on it, a small tug at my trousers makes me glance down.
A little girl stands there, staring up at me with wide, curious eyes. When I meet her gaze, she shies away, pressing into Lawliss, who picks her up, settling her against her hip.
“Hey, sweetie,” I say softly, not wanting to startle her.
She has to be Aria’s daughter. Not just because she looks like her, but something else—something I can’t put my finger on. There’s a familiarity in her face, in the way she tilts her head, studying me like she’s trying to figure me out first before deciding if I’m worth her time.
I glance at Josh, who’s watching us closely, and for a second, I wonder—
Then it clicks.
Not him. Someone else.
The resemblance is there, subtle but undeniable. The thought slips through my fingers before I can hold onto it.
“Who are you?” The girl asks, her tone serious, almost interrogative, pulling me back to the moment.
I smile. “I’m your Aunt Lawliss’s boyfriend.”
She tilts her head further. “Does that mean I get ice cream and cola?”
“Janette!” Aria scolds.
I laugh, easily taking her from Lawliss, who helps transfer her to me. It’s strange seeing Aria as a mother, but it suits her.
“Of course,” I say, meeting Janette’s expectant gaze. “You get everything. Even the moon, if you want it.”
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Yep.” I grin. Her dimples pop, and her smile is infectious. Just like that, this little girl becomes someone I need to protect.
She wraps her arms around my shoulders, and I carry her to the dining table, where dishes are already being passed around, making it easy for everyone to scoop whatever they want.
“So, I hear you lived with your grandparents,” Andrei asks and I nod.
I settle Janette into a chair beside me before sitting down myself. Lauren is across from Elisa, with Aria sitting beside Janet and me between Lawliss and Janette. Andrei is at the head of the table with Ines beside him, just like in old times. Dishes pass around the table, the scent of rich spices and roasted meats filling the air. Conversations weave in and out, but Andrei’s question lingers.
“So, they forgave your mother,” Andrei says, more a statement than a question.
I nod again, slower this time.
My mother’s parents had fought her marriage tooth and nail. My father wasn’t what they wanted for their daughter. He was a startup entrepreneur from a middle-income family, and worse—he hadn’t grown up in London, which meant their daughter would eventually have to move. My grandmother had been a judge before she retired, her lineage as prestigious as my grandfather’s, who was set to inherit the Montgomery business. My father, on the other hand, refused to join the Montgomery legacy, choosing instead to build his own. That was the breaking point.
They had made her choose. And she did.
Still, my mother always told me that if anything ever happened, I could go to them. My father had said the same. It made me wonder—maybe they never saw my grandparents as bad people. Just people trapped in archaic beliefs, the kind that left no room for anything outside their carefully constructed world.
“They came around eventually, but never reached out because of their pride,” I say, keeping my tone even. “After the accident, they didn’t have much of a choice.”
Silence stretches over the table, thick and full of things no one dares to say. I don’t like the way it sits between us, so I reach for my glass, taking a slow sip.
“They raised you well,” Ines says finally, breaking through the quiet. I meet her gaze, a little surprised by the warmth there.
“I guess they did,” I murmur.
Across from me, Lawliss watches, her expression unreadable. But I know that look—she’s trying to gauge me to see if I’m unraveling. If this is too much.
I give her a small smile, a silent way of telling her I’m fine.
For now.
At least, until every phone on the table pings at once. One after another, like an unspoken alarm. I glance around as people check their screens, a ripple of reactions moving through the room.
Then Lauren’s phone buzzes.
One notification. Then another.
I follow her gaze before she even turns, already knowing where she’ll look.
Lawliss.
Something sharp and ugly coils in my stomach.
Who do I have to murder?