Chapter 33
“T en years ago, Pantheon faced the harsh reality of a terrorist attack that shook us to our core. We remember the lives lost and the unity that emerged from the ashes. Today, standing before you as the minister of the French army, I am compelled to reflect on the strides we have made in our relentless pursuit of a safer tomorrow.”
Sylas’s father stood proudly in front of the ornate plaque by the facade of the opera house. He emanated a commanding presence, much like my own father, and had a professional video team recording every nuance of his speech.
Sylas tapped his foot impatiently, his fingers fidgeting with his tie. With each deep breath, mist escaped from his mouth. We stood in the far back, away from the standing crowd. I couldn’t keep my heart in tune. So many people had come.
“Kay keeps looking at me,” Sylas mumbled, attempting to brush off the gaze of his ex. “I hope he doesn’t do anything reckless.”
Levi leaned casually against the stone facade in the distance, flanked by Kay and Cillian. Kay’s glare bore into both of us, but Levi gave me his word that they wouldn’t intervene.
“I’m with you, okay?” I reassured Sylas, feeling the chill nipping at my ears, exposed by my low ponytail.
Underneath my Pantheon blazer, I wore a black turtleneck, and my winter tights were snugly tucked into my boots. I looked the part, my hair lacking any ribbon.
“In the face of adversity, we find our strength. In the aftermath of tragedy, we discover our resolve. I vow to you that countering terrorism is not just a professional duty; it is my personal commitment, and I stand resolute in ensuring that the shadows of terror never cast us under their darkness ever again.” Sylas’s father wrapped up his speech to a round of applause.
He descended a short flight of stairs, striding across the field while shaking a few hands along the way. We approached, the students dispersing on the different paths, clearing a way for him.
His father greeted us with open arms and smiled, his white teeth contrasting with the tan of his skin, and his neatly combed dark blond hair. “Son, and my favorite girl. I’m so glad you could spare me an hour or two to have breakfast together before I fly back to France.”
I forced a polite smile back, drawing upon years of experience in dealing with controlling old-fashioned fathers. “That was a great speech. Your son has been a great mentor and guide; we won some precious house points thanks to his rowing win a couple of weeks ago.”
“Right, rowing. Not really a sport as esteemed as fencing, am I right, Son?” He gave a tap to Sylas’s shoulder. “How’s fencing? A man needs to lead his group by example.”
“It’s going okay. I’m acing most of my politics classes.” Sylas cleared his throat. “Unifiers may have a stab at winning this year.”
“Right, if you don’t get distracted by the Tacticians.” His father shot a pointed glare at Kay even though he stood meters away. Nothing escaped that man. “Like last year. I believe you ended your friendship with that troublesome boy?”
“I did. He was a bad influence for us, as you said, Father.” Sylas belittled himself in front of his father, not betraying an ounce of the tumult under him.
My stomach contracted, my hands becoming clammy despite the cold freezing my fingertips.
“It’s not safe outside, Dalia. If anything happens to you, your grandma and I will be the saddest people on earth. Why don’t you play in your room?”
“I’m sorry, Dad, I’ll never leave you. I’ll never go to the park alone again.”
“My eternal little girl, you know that God watches each of your actions even when you’re alone. I hope that you don’t have impure thoughts.”
“No, Dad.”
“You can’t hang out at your friends’ houses; I don’t trust their parents. You’re too young for that.”
“You’re right, Dad. Sixteen is still young.”
I saw myself again through Sylas with his father—accepting everything for fear of disappointing him. All my life, I’d felt guilty for being the imperfect way I was, just to make him love me.
“Right, Dalia?” Sylas’s father turned to me, holding the café’s door open. It was then that I realized we had walked all this way to Guardian territory by the lake without even noticing. “I said that Sylas would soon follow in my footsteps with his humanitarian work and perfect public image. All he lacks is a good wife like the Kennedys. What are you planning for the future? Music is not a long-lasting career; your father said it’s just a passion.”
The knot in my stomach tightened, and I prompted Sylas to answer for me with a look while we made our way into the café. It was housed in an old half-timbered mill, and I calmed my nerves by inhaling the aroma of freshly brewed teas and coffee, mingled with the scent of herbs and flowers.
“Dalia is still young, and she is a talented musician. I’m sure she’ll have a great career ahead before she settles down if she wants to,” Sylas said, gesturing for his dad to take a seat on the warm-colored couches.
His father readjusted his suit before settling in with a grimace. Apparently, he wasn’t a fan of the organic charm of the place. He snapped his fingers at the server. “Two ristretto and one—” He smiled at me. “Darjeeling tea with milk?”
“Sure,” I agreed, noticing the server’s frown directed at Sylas and me. Sylas didn’t drink coffee, and I usually had matcha with almond milk. However, neither of us contradicted his father.
“Your mother was an incredible woman and an exemplary housewife who always supported your father. She was a rock who prioritized her family’s needs above her own,” he said. “You look just like her. Every man would be lucky to have someone like her in his life.”
He knew my mother. He knew how I lost her, but it was the first time he’d mentioned her directly to me. I sensed a compliment behind his words, but everyone kept telling me how perfect Mom was and that I could never live up to those expectations. What if Mom was more than the perfect housewife? I’ll never know. I’ll never know if she failed like me. I’ll never know if she ever had her heart broken, or what she truly wanted in life.
“A woman is not just an addition to a man’s life.” I forced another smile, but this time, my lips trembled slightly.
“You’re right,” he replied with a sly, shark-like grin. “You’re saints.”
We weren’t saints, just humans—neither whores nor madonnas. Just human.
“Mr. Archambault, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Kay’s voice cut through, and Sylas and I flinched in our seats. He was here, extending his hand for a shake with Sylas’s father. Oh my— “Your son has a great talent for politics, just like you. He’s bringing a modern vision to today’s society.”
“Kay, I’m with my father. We can—”
“Modern?” His father frowned, rising from his seat and shaking Kay’s hand doubtfully.
“Yes, positioning himself in favor of those we haven’t heard. The LGBTQ+, trans, and basically the complete opposite of your stuck-up political ideologies.”
“Oh my god, is that a mouse!” I shrieked in a lame attempt to switch the subject, but my alarmed voice went unnoticed.
“This is your son here, isn’t it?” Kay displayed a picture on his phone, showcasing Sylas at a street demonstration, holding the gay pride flag in one hand and a beer in the other. “So supportive of our cause.”
“Get away from us,” Sylas’s father rebuffed Kay sharply. “You’re a virus for my son.”
“Kay, don’t—” Sylas attempted to reason with him, but his efforts faltered.
Was Kay drunk? His breath reeked of alcohol. Cillian and Levi hurried into the café, each seizing one of Kay’s shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension.
Kay laughed, nudging them away. “A virus, he swallowed whole, sir, and—”
“Sylas, come with me, now!”
My heart pounded in my ears. I was mute, unable to move or do anything to prevent what was going to happen.
“Yes, Sylas, obey your daddy like an obedient dog. I know you like that position.” Kay smirked.
“You little—”
“You’re being watched,” Levi interjected, his tone ominously calm as he positioned himself between the two of them. “Sir, you wouldn’t want to get violent. The press wouldn’t take kindly to the minister of defense displaying aggression toward the gay community, especially when Kay’s father is one of the wealthiest individuals in our country.” Levi turned to his friend, gritting his teeth. “Kay, I told you to stay the fuck out.”
“You know what? Fuck you all! Especially you—” Kay pointed at Sylas, his face breaking up. “I’m done fighting for you and trying to understand the weird dynamic you and your father have! He can’t love you for who you are, but I could! Yet it’s still not enough for you! I’m done waiting for you, fuck you!”
As Kay stormed away, he knocked over the coffees the server was bringing to us. In his wake, Cillian hurriedly trailed him. Sylas stood on the verge of an emotional collapse, tears welling up in his eyes, his fingers trembling. I seized his hand, and he squeezed it tighter.
“Well, I see nothing has changed,” his father said, trying to maintain an outward calm that betrayed the underlying menace—just like my father before firing someone. “I thought you were with Dalia; you lied to me. Both of you.”
“It’s not her fault, Dad. She didn’t know. I lied to her. I—” Sylas’s voice faltered, breaking as he attempted to shield me from the storm.
“Let’s discuss this nonsense in the car.”
“Dad, look at me, please,” Sylas pleaded.
His father finally met his gaze, his jaw clenched, his head held high.
“I’ve been meaning to tell you something, and I think you know…”
“Stop,” his father warned, averting his eyes.
“Look at me, Dad.”
“Stop this nonsense! You don’t know what you’re talking about. In college, everyone tries new things.”
“I’m gay,” Sylas confessed, a tear glistening in his eye.
It was my turn to squeeze his hand, chewing the inside of my cheek. He did it. He found the courage to face him. Mr. Archambault’s eyes also welled up, and I prayed he would accept him.
“You’re not,” he spat, and I felt Sylas’s grip loosening on my hand. “You’re confused.”
“I’m not. I’m in love with Kay.”
My heart thudded loudly in my chest, goose bumps scattering on my spine. Sylas displayed a strength I would never have.
“I’m still your son, Dad; it doesn’t change a thing. I’m still me. I’m—” Sylas attempted to embrace his father, but he recoiled, bumping into the table behind him.
“You disgust me.” His father grimaced. “I didn’t raise you to become one of them.”
Stop . This had to stop.
“How could you speak to your son like that? He loves you more than anything and tries to hide who he is, for you! To please you!” I erupted, each syllable punctuated with the rage inside my heart of all the things I’d never been able to tell my father. “Everyone loves him here! He’s an example to so many people. And you’re hurting him because he likes men? What does it change, for fuck’s sake!”
His father gasped, hearing the f-word from my mouth. Fuck him . “Dalia, don’t intervene, or I’ll tell your father how this school has corrupted his daughter.”
“And if you speak to her again in that tone, with all due respect, sir, I’ll ruin your life,” Levi added from behind my back.
“And who are you?”
“My boyfriend,” I defended, piercing through Levi’s controlled mask. His brows shot up, and his eyes widened imperceptibly as a flicker of surprise passed over his features. I turned back to face Mr. Archambault. “Sylas is my friend, and I’ll support him. You can tell my dad whatever you want, but Sylas is a good person, and you should be proud of the man he has become! If you can’t love him for who he is, you’re not worthy of being his father.”
His narrowed gaze bore into me, and I was screwed. So screwed. Sylas’s bravery had rubbed off on me, and the consequences would be disastrous. I had never been one to fight for myself, but witnessing Sylas being belittled by his father flipped a switch in my head.
Sylas shouldn’t have to fight for his father’s love, just as I shouldn’t have to fight for mine.
“You best reconsider,” Sylas’s dad warned, dismissing my outburst by fixing his gaze on his son. “If a whisper about your… preferences leaks, I’ll never forgive you.”
“All you care about is politics and catching Los Calaveras,” Sylas said, his words laden with bitterness.
“Don’t bother coming home for Christmas if you’re not ready to act like a man.” He pushed his shoulder and stormed out of the café, slamming the door behind him.
Amid the wreckage, Sylas let out a shaky laugh, tears still clinging to his lashes. He crumpled to his knees. “Well, I believe I just ended my relationship with my father, lost the man I love, and got you in trouble, Dalia. I’m sorry.”
My heart was breaking. He wasn’t at fault. I was so proud of him.
“You did nothing wrong, I—” I began, intending to crouch beside him, but before I could, Levi moved faster.
He lunged forward and grabbed the fabric of Sylas’s blazer, yanking him off the floor with a forceful grip.
“Levi!” I screamed.
“I hate people who cry,” Levi said, his voice cold and unforgiving. “It makes me want to put them in a casket. Bury them, so I won’t hear their cries anymore. Do you want to be thrown in a casket, Sylas?”
“You’ve never had a heart, Levi. How would you know how it feels?” Sylas shot back, pushing him away.
“Your father wants you to be a man, so prove to him you can be a damn man. Beat him at his own game. Become better than him. You want a career in politics, use your strength and vision. People gather around you for some unknown reason because you’re fucking annoying. Start a political party instead of following your father’s beliefs,” Levi finished, his words cutting through the air with a razor-sharp edge. “This is my last pep talk. I hate doing this and losing the only dirt I had on you so far.”
Sylas gulped. “Thanks, I guess. I think I need some time alone to process this.”
“You can talk to me anytime,” I added.
Sylas nodded. “I’ll be fine, Dalia. I’ll see you later.”
I watched him go, feeling a pang of worry in my chest. The server shook his head as he was cleaning our mess. I was about to crouch over to help him when I felt Levi’s grip on my arm.
“Don’t get on your knees to fix someone else’s mess.”
“It’s not his either,” I argued.
“No, it wasn’t.” He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and placed it on the table. “Let’s go.”
I didn’t move but folded my arms across my chest. “Not before you tell me why you never spilled Sylas’s secret since you clearly dislike him.”
The sound of shattered glass being discarded into the trash faded into the background.
“Contrary to you, I don’t let my emotions alter my rationality,” he said, tucking a rebel strand of my hair behind my ear. “Sylas annoys the fuck out of me, but he has great chances of having a decent political career, and it may be a good investment to have him owe me one.”
“I don’t buy it.” I mustered a faint smile. “I believe that deep, deep down, you wanted to help him because you care.”
“Don’t confuse strategy with sentiment,” he cautioned, leading me out of the café. “I’m glad you’ve finally accepted our relationship.”
Right, I’d called him my boyfriend.
“I’m—” I fretted, the grinding of coffee beans assaulting my ears, grating like nails on a chalkboard. Utensils clinked with a menacing edge, their metallic symphony slicing through the air like knives. “I’m not really sure how my father will react to this news.”
We rushed out, the door shutting behind us, leaving the shrill noises of the café fading in the distance.
“He’s going to be so pissed… But I can’t lie to him forever and—” This time, I was interrupted by my phone ringing. It was Grandma. “She never calls me unless it’s serious. I need to take this.”
Levi nodded, and I picked up. “Grandma?”
“My flower, I just landed on Pantheon Island! I’ll be there soon!”
“You’re here?” I screamed.
“Did I forget to tell you?” Grandma chuckled. “Well, of course, I’m here! It’s Parents’ Day, and you sounded so sad on the phone last time.”
“But, Grandma, you took the plane alone, and you—”
“If the queen of England could travel when she was my age, I don’t see why I can’t! I’m not that old!”
The lump in my throat grew. “Is Dad with you?”
“Of course not. The signal is terrible. Dalia? Dalia, can you hear—”
The call abruptly cut off, leaving me staring at Levi, my mouth agape. “Well, I guess you’re about to meet my grandma.”
He hummed impassively. “Do you want me to meet her?”
I thought it through. I could always be myself with Grandma. She’d always have my back.
“Yes, I would actually love that.”