Young Love

It was already one in the morning when Tala finally drove home.

The distance between the club and the Greymore estate was considerable, and from there to the DeCalle mansion was even farther. The long drive had given him more than enough time to think.

The thoughts only made his anger worse.

When the gates of the DeCalle estate finally appeared, Tala drove through without slowing. The mansion stood enormous against the darkness, second only to the Greymore estate in size and grandeur.

He parked and stepped out.

The house was silent.

Tala loosened his collar and unbuttoned several buttons of his shirt as he walked through the empty halls. He climbed the grand staircase without acknowledging the servants who had retired hours ago.

When he reached his room, he closed the door behind him.

He poured himself a drink and stood beside the window.

Then he lit a cigar.

The first breath of smoke disappeared into the darkness.

But the anger was still there.

He took another drink.

Then he sighed, the sound low and heavy, as though the weight of everything that had happened that night had finally settled on his shoulders.

For once, Tala had nothing to say.

He leaned back against the chair, staring at the glass in his hand without drinking from it. His anger was still there, but it no longer felt powerful. It only felt exhausting.

He had wanted to hurt someone.

Instead, he had only made himself feel worse.

Tala closed his eyes and released another quiet breath.

“Damn it,” he murmured.

For the first time that night, he admitted defeat—not to Code, but to himself.

His eyes slowly drifted across the room until they stopped at an old picture frame resting on the shelf.

He reached for it.

Inside was a photograph of him and Venisa from years ago, when they were still young and untouched by everything that would eventually come between them.

Venisa was smiling in the picture.

Not the restrained smile she wore now at gatherings. Not the polite expression of a baroness who had learned to hide every thought behind composure.

She looked happy.

Free.

Her hair was slightly messy from the wind, her eyes bright with laughter, and there was something effortless about her expression—a kind of happiness that did not need permission from anyone.

Tala stared at her for a long moment.

He remembered that girl.

The Venisa who could laugh without worrying about tomorrow. The Venisa who would run through the gardens, argue with him over the smallest things, and smile as though the entire world belonged to them.

His thumb slowly brushed across the glass covering her face.

“You were happier then,” he whispered.

His voice cracked slightly.

He lowered his gaze.

Maybe that was what hurt the most.

Somewhere along the way, the girl in the photograph had disappeared behind the woman she had been forced to become.

And Tala could no longer tell whether he had protected her from the world...

or simply become another reason she had to hide her smile.

She loved Tala with the kind of happiness that made her forget the expectations surrounding her name. Whenever they were together, she was no longer the young lady everyone expected her to be. She laughed freely. She teased him. She would chase him through the gardens when he stole something from her, then sit beside him beneath the old trees when they grew tired.

They had been together for years.

To Venisa, Tala was not merely someone she cared for.

He was the person she had chosen.

The person she trusted.

The person she believed would remain beside her.

She never questioned what they were until the day Tala destroyed it with a single sentence.

“I am your brother.”

Venisa had stared at him.

For several seconds, she had simply laughed.

It was an awkward, disbelieving laugh.

“That isn't funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

Her smile disappeared.

“What did you say?”

Tala couldn't meet her eyes. “I said I'm your brother.”

“No.”

Venisa shook her head immediately. “No, you're not.”

She stepped closer, searching his face for the smallest sign that he was playing some cruel joke.

There was none. “Why would you say that now?” she whispered.

Tala remained silent.

That silence frightened her more than the words.

Venisa refused to believe him.

She remembered every moment they had shared. Every promise. Every time he had held her hand. Every time he had looked at her as though she were the only person in the world.

None of it made sense anymore.

“You told me you loved me.”

Tala closed his eyes. “I know.”

“And you knew?”

He didn't answer.

Venisa's breathing became unsteady. “You knew this whole time?”

Still nothing.

That was enough.

She stepped backward as though he had struck her.

Then she turned and ran.

She left without telling anyone where she was going.

She simply disappeared.

For a long time, no one knew where Venisa had gone.

And when she finally returned...

she was no longer the girl who had left.

The laughter was gone.

The softness was gone.

The girl who had once looked at Tala as though he were her entire world had become a woman who rarely allowed anyone close enough to see what remained of her heart.

Tala stared at the photograph now.

His younger self stood beside Venisa, both of them smiling beneath the afternoon sun.

He remembered how she used to look at him.

And suddenly, he wished he had never been the person she loved most.

Because perhaps then...

he would not have been the person who taught her how to stop loving at all.