Aiden scoffed, closing his eyes:
"It seems I still live up to your expectations."
His father added, ignoring the sarcasm:
"The psychiatrist called me. He said you suddenly stopped your appointments. Have you decided that madness is enough?"
Aiden opened his eyes and gave him a blank stare, then said in a dead tone:
"Still better than silence with you."
The father's voice was steady but heavy with unsaid things: "Aiden... you must remember. There's a part of your past... you can't escape it forever."
Aiden didn't reply.
He sat on the couch, his body hunched slightly forward, as if a weight on his chest prevented him from breathing. His black hair hung over his forehead, covering his eyes like a heavy shadow. But he looked from behind the strands, his gaze like an ember under ashes, holding what remained unsaid.
His voice finally emerged, disturbingly calm: "And you didn't care? You came from across town just... to tell me something I already know? Strange... how loyal you are."
The father approached, each step tapping the ground as if hammering a nail into Aiden's memory. Aiden didn't raise his head, didn't look at his father's face... he just stared at his shoes. Aiden's eyes followed his steps... his gaze like a loaded gun.
The father, with a sarcastic smile devoid of warmth: "Because you're my son... and that's why I'm here."
Aiden finally raised his head. A twisted smile formed on half of his mouth, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Aiden: "Don't use that word... it no longer suits you. You don't want me. You just want the chain of cafes I built with my own hands."
The father let out a soft laugh, a mix of malice and contempt: "Oh, dear... I love you. Believe me, you just don't know how to use what's in your hands."
He continued his laughter and walked around the room, as if every tap of his shoe fed his sadism.
Aiden, suddenly, pointed his finger without moving his body, as if his finger alone was enough to stop an earthquake: "Stop."
The father slowed his steps, but his voice came out as if trying to provoke: "What did you say?"
Aiden raised his face. Only one of his eyes was visible from behind the strands of hair, and in it was a deadly flicker... a mixture of winter sky blue and night black. His hand rose to his face, covering it, as if preventing himself from exploding.
Aiden, in a trembling voice, polished with anger: "I said... I don't want to hear the sound of your shoes. Nor your voice. You make a buzzing in my head... as if you're knocking on a fragile wall inside me."
The father laughed loudly: "That's why I said... you need a psychiatrist. And quickly."
He took out his phone, looked at the time, as if counting how many minutes remained before he left this place.
Aiden laughed... a broken laugh, as if it came from a deep well within him: "Perhaps... but if I'm mad, then you're the maker."
He stood up slowly. He rose like storms do, silently, but with clear danger. He took one step closer, then whispered clearly: "I know. I know what you hide behind your neat facade... Your dirty deeds, your secret deals... everything."
The father, deliberately turning to make more noise, replied coldly: "You won't do anything. Everything you have, I made."
Aiden lowered his hand, but his eyes burned. His black earrings gleamed in the darkness... like a declaration of war.
In a choked voice, he exploded as if his vocal cords themselves trembled: "Get out... before I explode. Now."
A moment of silence. The father stopped. The room froze.
Then, slowly, he bent down. He took off his shoes. He carried them in his hand. He walked barefoot to the door, his steps quiet this time... but laden with danger.
Before leaving, he whispered as he crossed the threshold: "Aiden... I will destroy you. You and your madness."
The door slammed shut behind him.
The breath of the place stopped.
He sat back down. A short, pale laugh began to emerge from his throat... but it broke before it was complete. His eyes were calm now, but not with peace... rather like the quiet of a volcano before an eruption. They stared at nothing, as if the world was beyond his perception.
Then, in a faint voice, barely audible, as if his soul was bleeding:
"For how long? For how long will I keep... bleeding from the inside without anyone seeing me?"
In Siara's room, she was slowly pulling the ladder. Reena's eyebrows were raised in surprise. She said, bewildered: "Siara, what's with this ladder? Why is it placed between our balcony and the neighbors' balcony?"
Siara stammered, trying to hide her confusion: "To hang clothes... you know, I just want to hang my clothes."
On the opposite side, Aiden heard the grinding sound of the ladder as it moved slowly, so he stood up. He put his hands in his jacket pockets, then advanced with quiet steps towards the balcony. It was as if the volcano inside his eyes had suddenly extinguished... His eyes no longer burned with anger, but now held a strange, deep warmth that almost scorched. The breeze caressed his hair, and he smiled a warm, gentle smile... As if something inside him had remembered love — that love he hadn't found in childhood, but he... found it now. Somehow, as if his soul knew the way to it from the start.
In that ordinary moment, when the heart expected nothing, Siara turned around. Her hair moved with her slight turn, and the light reflected in her eyes, then she saw him. Aiden. Standing there on the opposite balcony, the breeze playing with his hair, his hands in his jacket pockets, but his body unsteady. He was smiling, a warm smile. As if that volcano that used to reside in his eyes... had extinguished.
Siara, without realizing it, smiled with pure warmth, and waved gently at him, but, something... something in his posture, in the tilt of his body, in that pale smile... disturbed her heart. His image began to blur before her... No, not because of the distance, but because... he began to lose his balance. His feet were no longer steady. His hand searched for something to cling to. Then he gripped the balcony glass, his fingers trembling.
Siara's gaze changed. Concern rose to her face as tears rise to the eyes.
Reena, her voice bursting from her throat in fright: "He's going to fall!! Siara, look at him!"
Siara didn't answer. She moved quickly. She ran towards her table, grabbed her phone, opened it, searched through the messages, stopped at one message only, her eyes widening as if it contained the truth.
Reena, terrified, tried to catch up with her: "Where are you going?"
Siara, her voice not her own, a mixture of fear and determination, typed the code: "Reena, I swear... I'll explain everything, just let time help me."
She rushed towards the balcony, the evening air hitting her face, her steps quickening, her heart two steps ahead of her. And there, over the edge, Aiden was still standing... as if life was about to abandon him. His body was tilted forward, his right arm gradually weakening.
Siara ran towards him, knelt before him, and gently took his hand, not with panic but with love. Her voice came out faint, broken, like a plea: "Aiden... I'm here, hold me..."
Aiden said nothing at first. He just looked at her. His eyes were exhausted... as if they held a thousand wars that had just ended, all of them lost.
Then... he closed his eyes, rested his head on her shoulder, and whispered in a voice she had never heard before, a voice from deep within him, from a depth she hadn't yet touched:
"The edge of collapse... Siara, I've hit rock bottom."