Diane got home after visiting her father at the hospital. As she stepped inside, her conscience felt heavy, her chest tight. She slipped off her shoes and sighed — ah, the smell of home. It was exactly what she needed after everything the universe had thrown at her.
"I'm home!" she called out lazily, her voice carrying her exhaustion.
"We know," Clara shot back from the living room. Typical Clara.
Diane dragged herself toward the stairs, every step heavier than the last. She leaned on the wooden railing as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.
"Ugh…" she groaned, halfway up.
Both Clara and Henry turned toward the sound, then glanced at each other in confusion.
"Sis Diane is acting weird," Henry said, blinking his tiny, adorable eyes.
"I thought I was the only one who noticed that," Clara muttered under her breath, teasing.
Diane finally reached her room. She collapsed face-first on the bed, lying flat, staring up at the ceiling in silence.
"This is the worst day ever," Diane muttered.
Her mind kept drifting back to Llewellyn — dangerous, yet captivating. She shook her head to clear the thought, but another memory formed: the chaos on the bus. It clung to her like a bad omen, perhaps the seed of fear Clara had planted, now taking root.
"Hey," Clara's voice cut through. "Mum told me you already paid for Dad's hospital bill?"
Diane looked up from the bed. "Yeah."
Clara's eyes shimmered with sincerity and guilt. "I promise I'll pay you back...once I graduate and become a behavioral psychologist."
Diane smiled faintly. She usually took care of the family's needs; she was used to it.
"Don't, Clara," she said softly.
Clara smiled, feeling that rare moment of connection between them — but it vanished as quickly as it came. "You're wallowing, Diane. You messed up right?"
Diane sighed. "I got sent out of the hall. I got angry. I said some things and I…" She stopped herself before admitting she had felt captivated by Llewellyn's dangerous charm. "And I signed a contract," she finished.
"A contract?!" Clara exclaimed.
Diane didn't move.
Clara began pacing dramatically. "You got kicked out of the hall ... fine, I believe that. Not everyone can stand you…"
"What? Why?" Diane groaned.
"You got angry — that's just your nature."
"Thanks," Diane said dryly.
"It's not a compliment!" Clara yelled. "You said some things — well, your tongue's always loose — probably made it worse. And then you signed a contract? I thought you weren't accepting any right now! Obnoxious! I'm sure it's a death contract."
"What do you mean, death contract?" Diane frowned.
"Don't you watch movies? You signed a contract with a human devil! You're done for."
Diane rolled her eyes. "Come on, Clara. I know how contracts work."
"Okay, fine. I'm the crazy one," Clara said, throwing her hands up. Then she softened. "So how did the rest of your day go?"
Diane's thoughts drifted again. 'Look, Diane, I'm not some freaking weirdo…' Llewellyn's voice echoed in her head.
"Hey!" Clara snapped her fingers.
Diane blinked. "He's a player, right?"
"Yes. An international player — and a leader of a gang."
The words international player echoed in Diane's mind. Then came gang — and that struck something new.
"Wait. I remember," Diane said suddenly.
"Remember what?"
"This evening on the bus. Men in black — shouting everywhere. The bus stopped, cars too. I saw him, Llewellyn. And his bodyguard. They were facing someone."
"Bodyguard?"
"Yeah. I didn't know what was happening, but everyone looked tense. I got off the bus… and some men started hovering around me, like they were about to cover me — but they stopped." She looked at Clara. "Was that the gang thing?"
Clara's mouth fell open.
*******
"What did the dogs get from Truce?" Llewellyn asked as he and Rick walked out of the hotel.
Llewellyn cracked his knuckles as he moved, now dressed in a black suit instead of the maroon one from earlier. Rick, as usual, wore black from head to toe, trailing slightly behind with his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.
"He didn't come for mere provocation, obviously," Rick said in his calm, calculating tone. "He came to set a battle line — but he did it mockingly. He wanted to anger you into action."
"I won't react. Not now," Llewellyn replied dryly.
They walked through the grand corridor — floors of polished marble reflecting the soft gold light from the chandeliers. The air smelled faintly of expensive perfume and silence. They walked side by side — Llewellyn on the right, Rick on the left — and by the way they moved, anyone could tell they were fearless, strong, charismatic, and dangerous. They carried that quiet rebellion.
Rick was dangerously calm as he walked, but Llewellyn, though his posture remained unshaken, carried an aura of power and danger. One hand in his pocket, he looked unbothered — but Rick knew too well when his best friend was lost in thought.
"You're quiet," Rick said.
"Nothing, just thinking," Llewellyn answered, his voice low and dry.
"About her?" Rick asked.
Llewellyn almost looked at him — almost — but stopped himself. If he met Rick's gaze, his friend would know immediately.
"Watch what you say," Llewellyn warned, his tone still calm but edged.
"I mean, she was bold — getting down from that bus in the middle of that mess. I like that," Rick added.
Llewellyn stopped walking. Even he was surprised by his sudden pause. Rick's smirk widened — he'd gotten his answer.
"So you were thinking about her," Rick teased. "She was kinda bold back then."
"Hey," Llewellyn's voice cut in, cool but sharp. "Do you like her?"
Rick looked at him, clearly entertained. He sighed — half amused, half disappointed.
Moving closer, Rick looked him in the eye and said, "I remain faithful to my girlfriend." Then he hit Llewellyn lightly on the head.
"Bro! Ow," Llewellyn said, rubbing his head.
"You've been thinking about her so much, you've lost it," Rick said with a teasing grin.
"Why my head?"
"So it resets," Rick shot back. "And it's nice seeing you think about someone for once."
"What do you mean I don't think?" Llewellyn asked, frowning slightly.
"Yeah, you don't. For example — you chased her out of the hall."
Llewellyn's gaze lowered. "I shouldn't have told you" he muttered.
"Bro, what were you thinking? And then you took her to your office — 'dog,' we both know that place isn't safe for a lady like her. I mean!" Rick said, throwing his hands up.
"Well, I took her there. It already happened, so…" Llewellyn trailed off.
"It happened already?" Rick asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No!" Llewellyn said casually. "And stop being nosy."
"I'm in my lane," Rick teased.
They were silent for a moment before Llewellyn said, "Help me."
Rick understood immediately — distract my driver.
He sighed as Llewellyn began walking off.
"Bro, you're not going with your driver again?" Rick called.
"Yeah," Llewellyn replied softly.
"But he isn't even here. He didn't see you."
"He saw me earlier on my bike, followed for a while, but I lost him."
"So?"
"I don't want trouble," Llewellyn said simply.
Rick understood. Trouble meant his father — and since that last confrontation, Llewellyn had been avoiding both arguments and attention.
"Where do I find him?" Rick asked.
"Get on your bike, look around. Stall him — keep him away from here. I don't want to go home yet," Llewellyn said lazily.
"And what are you going to do here?" Rick asked, his voice echoing through the marble hall.
"Okay, don't question me. Just go." Llewellyn raised a hand as he strode off down the corridor until Rick couldn't see him anymore.
Rick knew what every one of his actions meant. He shook his head in exasperation.
Outside, he slipped on his helmet and swung onto his bike.
Vroom, vroom!
The engine roared, slicing through the calm night. Rick sped off, leaving behind Llewellyn's bike — and Llewellyn himself — to find the driver.
********
Far from calm danger and power bikes, another scene unfolds — close to where danger itself is feared, and voices of panic hover in the air.
"Diane!!!" Clara yelled.
"What?" Diane replied, startled.
"Stop being so dramatic," Diane added, rolling her eyes.
Clara looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief. "Y...you went out of the bus when they were about to fight?" she asked, trembling.
"No. They didn't fight. Come on, they only looked serious and stuff," Diane said, smiling awkwardly.
"You could have been in danger!" Clara said.
"Why?" Diane asked.
"Because Llewellyn was there — that guy is literally the meaning of danger himself."
"But he didn't do anything. He just stood there… looking kinda sad, that's all."
"So, you saw them in action?" Clara asked.
"He was facing someone," Diane said, trying to recall what she saw by chance.
Clara suddenly covered her mouth, as if sealing in some secret.
"What, Clara?" Diane asked, confused.
"That's Truce," Clara said through her fingers.
"Truce?" Diane repeated. That was the same name Rick had mentioned when he entered Llewellyn's office. Now she was hearing it again — from Clara's mouth.
"How did you know that name?" Diane asked.
"Because I'm not living under a rock, obviously," Clara teased, though her tone carried something deeper.
"He was rebellious, Diane," Clara continued.
"Rebellious how?" Diane asked.
"He wanted to be the bulldog, but there could be only one dog, and that's Llewellyn."
"So Truce is the enemy now?" Diane asked quietly.
"Yes," Clara replied.
"But how do you know their story…" Diane pressed.
"I'm human," Clara whispered with a sly smile. Then her tone hardened. "That's why I said — don't escalate things. Which you're clearly not following."
Fear gripped Diane now; her voice trembled as she said, "But… I already slapped him."
"What?!" Clara screamed, eyes wide.
******
Rick drove corner to corner, scanning the streets for Llewellyn's driver. After a few turns, he finally spotted a familiar plate number.
"That looks like it," Rick muttered, steering closer.
"Hey… hey!" he called, his voice echoing through his helmet.
The driver turned his head.
"You shouldn't go in that direction!" Rick shouted, cutting across the noise of the road.
"What do you mean? You're his friend, right?" the driver asked, eyes darting between the road ahead and Rick.
Rick gestured toward a small parking space. They both pulled over.
"I said you shouldn't go there," Rick repeated, his tone polite but firm — a mix of authority and respect.
The driver frowned slightly. "Why? Did you see him?"
"Yes," Rick replied. "And he doesn't want you to pick him up."
The driver's confusion deepened.
"He just wants to breathe," Rick said simply.
At that, the driver's eyes lowered. He knew what Rick meant. He remembered the trouble he'd caused the last time — when he reported to Llewellyn's father that Llewellyn had refused to get in the car.
"So, please," Rick said, adjusting his helmet, "could you spare him this break?"
The driver nodded quietly and bowed slightly in respect.
"Please don't," Rick said quickly, waving his hand. "I'm not that punk, so please."
The driver straightened.
Rick started his bike again. The engine growled, cutting through the cool night.
He gave one last look and then zoomed off — this time heading to his grandmother's house, his home.
Rick arrived at a small, old building — a bit shady, but it carried the fresh scent of love and care. He parked his bike and stepped inside.
"Oh, my son… you've come," his grandmother said warmly. Her eyesight had grown blurry with age, though her glasses helped.
"Yes, maa," he replied with a smile.
She adjusted her glasses as she sat at the dining table, sorting some vegetables. "You came late," she said, walking toward him. When she reached him, she lightly hit his hand.
Rick only smiled. "It's because of that punk," he said teasingly.
She paused, retreating from hitting him again. She loved her other grandson, Llewellyn, too much to be angry at Rick when it involved him.
"How is he?" she asked.
"Still a pain in my bones," Rick replied, grinning.
They both smiled — they knew who Llewellyn was.
"Come and eat," she said, gesturing toward the table.
"Okay, but let me go to my room first," he said.
Rick entered his room — a peaceful abode, humble and kind. He dropped his bike keys on the table and took off his jacket.
His phone buzzed. He looked at it, and his lips curved into a smile.
Meet me outside, the message read.
Rick stepped out immediately. When he opened the door and saw her, his eyes softened, and a bright smile spread across his face. Relief washed over him — she made his night lighter just by standing there.
"Babe," he said, taking her hand.
But she didn't smile back.
"Do you want to come in?" he asked gently.
Then came the words his heart wasn't ready for—
"Let's break up."