𝗠𝗘𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗘 // 𝗖.𝗙

𝖭 𝖤 𝖤 𝖣

SYLVIA REMAINS mute, her gaze a tender exploration of Conrad's face. Her eyes dance across every familiar contour, tracing the bridge of his nose, lingering on the warmth in his eyes, and finally settling on the faint dusting of freckles that graces his cheeks.

They were so subtle, so delicate, that only someone who had once been intimately close would notice their presence.

Her eyes devour every detail, absorbing the features she had desperately missed during their time apart, a silent testament to the ache of absence.

"So, this is why you haven't answered any of my phone calls and texts?" Jeremiah's voice cut through the heavy silence, a mixture of hurt and resignation lacing his words.

He shoves his hands deep into his pockets, a nervous habit that betrayed his unease.

Conrad's gaze was a magnetic pull, his eyes locked onto Sylvia's face.

He drank in every detail, etching her image into his memory.

The curve of her lips, the way her eyes sparkle with a mix of vulnerability and strength, the soft blush that paints her cheeks – every nuance of her being was a siren's call, a haunting reminder of what he had lost.

His gaze then drifts downwards, tracing the delicate line of her neck, the gentle slope of her shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the desire that still burned within him.

Sylvia felt a blush creep up her neck under the intensity of his gaze.

Conrad was looking at her as if she were a cherished possession, as if every inch of her belonged solely to him.

Sensing her discomfort, Beau instinctively steps in front of her, shielding her from Conrad's piercing stare.

He leveled a protective glare at Conrad, a silent warning that forced him to break eye contact and turn his attention to his brother.

"Jere." Conrad's voice was strained, desperate. "Did you not hear what I just said? We're going to lose this house. Mom's house."

"Why would your dad sell this house?" Beau's question echoes the confusion swirling in Sylvia's mind.

The thought of losing the beach house, the sanctuary that held so many precious memories, was a devastating blow.

"He's not." Conrad replies, his voice flat, his eyes avoiding Sylvia's. "Our Aunt Julia is."

"S-Susannah's sister." Sylvia stammers, the realization dawning on her.

She remembers Susannah's countless vents about her estranged sister, a woman who had always been a source of contention in her life.

"Half-sister." Conrad corrects, the sound of Sylvia's voice sending a jolt through him. "Apparently, the house belonged to both of them. And then when Mom... Now Aunt Julia owns everything."

Overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions, Sylvia sought refuge in Beau's embrace.

She wraps her arms tightly around his torso, burying her face against his back, seeking solace in his warmth.

The weight of the situation, the potential loss of the house, the unexpected reappearance of Conrad, was all too much to bear.

She felt her hands begin to tremble, a physical manifestation of her inner turmoil.

Sensing her distress, Beau places his hands over hers, gently rubbing them in a soothing rhythm, a silent promise of comfort and support.

"Okay, we'll just call Dad and figure something out—." Jeremiah starts, a hopeful yet cautious tone lacing his words, as if trying to defuse a bomb with a pair of shaky hands.