With each pace he traced, Zac felt that the box he held was getting more and more weighty.
It was nothing much, even neat—a dark navy paper wrapped with a golden ribbon tied together in a tight knot—but its weight was not coming from the content of the package. It was the question sealed in it. Just a friendly gesture hidden under the guise of a gift.
Will he even take it?
The Question, continuous and persistent, like a dreadful drumbeat, was turning round and round in Zac chest.
He took a moment at the black iron gates edge. Right in front of him stood the mansion, as tall and unspoiled as always. It had not been affected by time. The white pillars glistened under the evening lights wash, neat and trimmed hedges were standing in flawless symmetries, and the broad driveway curved like a carefully drawn line to the majestic double doors.
Nothing was different.
It was this that was the problem by itself.
Zac took the box off the one loaded hand and put it into the other. His palms were sweaty and the breathing shallow. The sensor lights turned on, as if they were greeting him, but the light he perceived was not that of a welcome, but rather like a spot catching his full attention.
"I'm not supposed to be nervous," he said through his teeth in a barely audible voice, and in a weak show of bravery. "It's just… home."
However, the use of the word home was like a thorn in his throat. It had actually not felt like home for a long time. Not after his father's voice became even colder than the marble floors inside. Not after his passion for the stars turned into a source of embarrassment instead of pride.
As the gates were opening by themselves, his legs, though felt like they were doing so stolen steps, moved him forward.
The foyer was a scene of great commotions and the sounds were reverberating all over the place. It was Music—elegant strings—woven deeply with laughter and people speaking on top of each other. The Crystal chandeliers were reflecting the light as if they were broken into little pieces and spread all over the polished marble. The air was carrying the mix of the strong smell of wine, the sweetness of expensive desserts, and the faint sting of cologne that was a bit too strong for comfort.
Zac, standing just on the entrance side, was rooted to the spot with the sight of the crowd.
Men dressed in sharp suits with their pocket squares folded in neat little shapes like paper folding art. Women who are wearing dresses that sparkle under the light and their smiles are as perfect as their make-up. The laughter here was working like undulation in an acted play script, loud, then soft, then fading away and so on. He did not know any of them. His father's investors, business associates, partners, or strangers who were there but seemed to belong more than him.
The gift box was clutched even more tightly to his chest as if it were a shield against the constriction that came over his throat.
And then—
"Zac!"
Amidst the heavy noise, the sound of "Zac!" rang out sharply like a ray of sunshine finding its way through thick clouds.
He turned.
Right across the room, grinning from ear to ear, Xavier was standing.
He looked the same—the neat haircut, the toned shoulders with the aura of tranquility that he always had—but the rays of warmth had replaced the hard lines now. Nicole stood close, her hand grasping the small palm of a lively, bouncing toddler.
"Hey there little brother," As he came up to him, Xavier said, covering him with a chilly half-hug that was redolent of cedar and cologne. "You got here."
"I really did tell you, didn't I?" Zac replied, his voice strained but sincere.
Nicole beamed, her eyes tender and loving. "Zac, it's really nice to see you again. You seem... taller."
Zac smiled weakly. "Maybe just my haircut is new."
The little boy pushed himself upward, stretching his arms out towards him. "Uncle Zaaaac!"
Something moved in Zac's heart. He leaned down, embracing the little boy with a scoop hug. The child smelled of baby lotion and purity.
"Haven't I seen you grow, little man?"
There was softness in Nicole's face. "We have called him Elian. After your grandpa."
Zac was momentarily stunned, his voice trembling, "Well... that is a nice name."
For a brief second, warmth flooded inside, and he lightly kissed Elian's temple before Xavier took the boy back. Nicole already spoke about introducing the child to other relatives and thus, leaving Zac at the bottom of the grand stairs.
Once again, he was all alone.
The brilliant chandeliers sparkled above him. The marble floor reflected his indecisive shadow back at him.
He brought down hard on his throat and carried on walking.
The corridor appeared to extend forever, going down both sides were the portraits that glared at him with critical eyes. They depicted ancestors wearing old-fashioned clothes. Family photographs where everyone is beaming except the recollection of himself, a small boy in a too-tight suit, shifting uncomfortably.
The noise of the people he had just joined increased as he went into the main hall.
And there she stood.
Trixy.
On a luxurious velvet sofa, his sister Trix was sitting, one hand gently cupping the small but definite baby bump under her tight top. Next to her, Zyron was leaning over, smiling and whispering something that made her laugh, her whole face shining.
Zac's heart sank but this time it was softer.
"Trix." My voice was weak and I was almost inaudible as I came nearer.
She looked at once at me and at the ceiling chandeliers which shone brighter than both of us. "Zac!"
She got up as if she was standing or rather waddling and hugged him tightly, surrounded him with the warmth of her arms going around his shoulders. He was comforted and he experienced the first time in seconds that he was in touch with something real and true.
"You look quite well," said Zyron, extending his hand as a sign of greeting.
Zac took it. "Thanks. The two of you… wow. You, Trixy, are really shining."
She laughed. "I swear that I am not putting on a show. I am bloated, miserable, and starving all the time."
"You can be more perfect," Zyron said softly and kissed her on the forehead.
Zac averted his gaze, his heart torn inside. "I am really glad for you. Truly."
And he really did mean that.
However, as the conversation went on, he could still feel a shadow following him, the heaviness of being that one odd person out of the group. The one who doesn't have a seat at the table which has been polished to a shine.
Subsequently, he was awkwardly positioned at the dining table. There were crystal glasses. Plates with gold rims. Talk which seemed to have no end. His mother was on his side, perfumed floral but distant in character. Xavier was opposite him, smiling sweetly and mildly. Trixy was on his side, beaming, and full of life.
And at the head—
His father.
Mr. Kyle Edward Austin
They looked into each other's eyes once only.
No warmth. No greeting.
Only a nod.
That was more cutting than words could.
Zac's throat burned as he sipped his wine. He wanted to disappear into the glass. He longed to be outside, gazing at stars. He craved Januz quiet companionship rather than this noisy polish.
They served the meals in shiny silver trays. Roast duck with a citrus glaze. Delicate soufflés. Vinaigrette-dressed salads that were too sharp to taste besides duty. While everyone else conversed with ease—stocks, politics, upcoming charity events—Zac picked at his food. He chewed but could not taste anything.
Occasionally, his mother would lean toward him, with clipped, polite questions.
"How is school?"
"Fine."
"Do you still study the stars?"
"Yes."
She put on a faint crease between her eyebrows, as if the universe were a stain she could not clean out. She did not speak any more.
Xavier was the one who talked during the breaks, about his work, and Elian's first steps. Trixy laughed about her cravings. Zyron made the people smile with the help of his easy jokes.
And Zac sat there, invisible.
His father's voice only managed to break through the silence.
"Zac."
The moment his name came from that mouth, it was enough to stop him right there.
"Yes, dad?" he replied as usual without much thought.
His father's stare was direct and profound. "You have become very quiet. Are you still lost in your – sky-gazing dreams?"
The table became silent. Even the clinking of cutlery was almost inaudible.
Zac forcibly maintained the eye contact. "Dad, it's not just dreams. It is a subject. Astronomy has value."
A laugh. One that made a sharp incision. "Value will not provide meals on the table. Will not create a company. But maybe you are too young to get."
Zac clenched his fists beneath the table. He had the urge to say more. To scream. But the heaviness of the past caught his voice. Every instance when he was told he was less. Every glance that said he did not belong.
The silence continued. Then Xavier cleared his throat, deftly moving the conversation back to business ventures. Laughter returned in due time. But the wound remained.
Life of Zac turned away, totally void of appetite.
He pretended to be needing air when dessert was served him. The night sky was vast and boundless outside on the balcony. The stars were faintly twinkling beyond the city lights.
He let go of his breath. His chest hurt with longing—for solace, for approval, for Januz. He imagined Januz's deep eyes, the way silence never felt empty to them. If he shut his eyes, he could almost hear Januz's voice, calm, rooting.
"Would he even understand this?" Zac whispered to the night. "This house… this weight?"
The box was still in his bag, navy and gold. Laden with things he had not said.
Tomorrow is Dad's birthday. Could you come home? Xavier's message kept playing in his mind.
He had arrived. That was something. Right?
But then, he was there, not sure if he was strong enough to give the gift away. To go across the bridge when the other side looked like stone.
He passed his fingers along the ribbon, yet it remained unaltered.
Within the house, the celebration was going on with great enthusiasm—laughter, toasts, speeches.
Still, Zac was merely waiting outside. He was measuring time by his breaths. Observing how the stars were twinkling faintly against the night sky.
And the present was also waiting. Covered in dark blue paper. Laden with the heavy silence of unspoken words.
Was he going to give it?
Would he be able to?
He was uncertain.