He didn't belong to them.
Not really.
Even after all these years.
Artavius stood still, his expression unreadable as the room buzzed with low voices and careless laughter. Boys his age—no, men—sat around like they owned the world. Sons, relatives… born into something he was forced into.
They respected him.
Some feared him.
Some whispered that he was someone important.
But he knew the truth.
He was just… kept.
"There's a job," someone said casually.
A girl.
That caught attention.
It wasn't unusual—but still, something about it felt different.
"Artavius,"
The voice came from across the room.
Cold.
Controlled.
Cassian.
The man who raised him.
The man who ruined him.
"We need you on this one."
A pause.
Artavius didn't even look up.
"No."
Silence.
The room stilled slightly.
Not because he refused—
But because of how easily he did.
Cassian let out a quiet breath, almost amused.
"I expected that from you."
No anger.
No force.
Just… acknowledgment.
"Send someone else."
And just like that, it was over.
Or at least—
it should have been.
The morning air felt different outside.
Lighter.
Free.
Artavius walked alone, hands by his side—not in his pockets, never careless like that—his gaze steady as he moved through streets that didn't belong to his world.
Today was his college result day. Something normal.
Something almost… human. But he didn't go there first. His steps turned automatically.
Familiar.
Painfully familiar.
The house stood quiet.
Empty.
No laughter.
No warm voices calling his name.
The old couple had once lived there.
The only people who ever looked at him like he was just a child… not something broken.
They had a granddaughter too.
Older than him.
She never liked him.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know where she was now.
Maybe another city.
Maybe another life.
He never saw her again.
And now— they were all gone.
Both of them.
Same day.
Same silence.
Artavius stood there for a moment longer than he should have.
Then he left.
Because staying hurt more.
The cemetery was quiet.
It always was.
He walked toward the graves without hesitation, like his body remembered the way better than his mind did.
Two names on two cemeteries.
Side by side.
Mr. Edward Whitmore:(3rd March 1945 – 14th October 2018)
Mrs. Margaret Whitmore:(22nd July 1947 -14th October 2018)
He crouched down slowly, placing fresh flowers in front of them.
His expression didn't change.
But something in his eyes did.
"I came."
His voice was low.
Almost lost in the wind.
"They would've liked you,"
he added after a pause.
He didn't say who.
Maybe he didn't need to.
A faint memory crossed his mind—
warm hands
soft voices
a life that could've been different.
And then—
Evilyn.
The only one in that cursed house who ever cared.
The only one who made it feel less like a cage.
She was gone too.
Everyone who ever loved him—
gone.
Artavius stood up slowly.
He didn't look back again.
He never did.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miles away— Valentine sat in the backseat of the car, her suitcase beside her.
Her father's voice still echoed in her mind.
"Go to your grandparents' place. You need space."
Space.
That's what he called it.
The road stretched ahead, long and quiet.
Too quiet. Then— a sharp sound.
The car jerked slightly. The driver frowned.
"Tyre's punctured, ma'am."
He stepped out to check.
Valentine stayed inside,
just like he said.
For a moment— everything was still.
Then— something small hit the road again.
Another puncture.
Not an accident.
Not normal.
Her fingers tightened around her phone.
Her heartbeat quickened. And this time— something felt wrong.