The key to locked hearts

1

SEBASTIAN

He furrowed his brows as he gazed at the mountains of paperwork in front of him. He was preparing to take over his father's company; his father was on the verge of retirement. Unbuttoning the first couple of buttons of his fitted shirt, he struggled to breathe, the weight of his responsibilities feeling suffocating. Leaning back, he relaxed into his chair, spreading his legs farther apart, a deep sigh escaping him as he clutched the bridge of his nose. Swaying side to side in his chair, he tilted his head towards the ceiling. Just as more pressure threatened to settle in, he heard rustling outside his office. He had planned to ignore it, yet the sound suddenly burst through his door. Toddler feet scurried to his desk, and he immediately softened his facial expression.

"Hey buddy, what are you doing here?" He turned to face his son, putting on a smile and gently playing with his hair.

His son looked up at him with wide, curious eyes, a mix of innocence and mischief playing in their depths.

"I wanted to play with you, Daddy," he said, his voice a soft, earnest whisper that seemed almost too gentle for the dim void that was his office. His heart ached; his son looked at him as if he could do no wrong. How could a person be so kind?

For a moment, he saw his world through his son's eyes—not as a place of stress and endless responsibilities but as a realm of wonder and discovery. It was a perspective he'd lost somewhere along the way, buried under the weight of expectations and duty.

He scooped his son up into his arms, deciding that the paperwork could wait.

"Well, how about I show you around Daddy's office?" His delighted squeal was the only answer he needed. Despite the books he had surrounded himself with, he wanted to show his son more. He had aisle upon aisles of books, but from his son's boundless imagination, they seemed like mountains. Each mundane detail about his office transformed into something out of a fairytale, from the echoing hallways ('secret tunnels') to his window overlooking the bustling city ('a ledge overlooking the kingdom').

As they explored, he realized that this unexpected visit was more than just a delightful interruption. It was a reminder of what truly mattered. Yes, taking over the company was important, but not at the expense of these precious moments. His son's visit became a bridge between two parts of his life he'd struggled to reconcile—the businessman who yearns for acceptance and the father who cherished his family above all.

Eventually, they returned to his desk, the setting sun casting long shadows across the floor. He settled his son onto his lap, facing the large window that overlooked the city.

"One day, all this could be yours," he mused, more to himself than to his son.

His son turned to look at him, his expression thoughtful. Before he could form a response, heels clacked towards their direction.

"And before it can be his, it should finally be yours." The voice pierced through their fond moment, and his jaw clenched as he fixed his eyes on the voice, followed by a fixed smile that wasn't genuine.

"Mommy!"

"Honey!!" She reached out for their son, and before he knew it, the child was out of his grasp.

"Let's go eat, sweetie." Their son nodded, squealing all the same, and his heart ached once more. His eyes were conflicted; it hurt to keep them open and see them be as close as they were. She placed her hand on his shoulder and whispered into his ear.

"You stink of cigarettes; tidy up and join us for dinner," her tone was a velvet-coated sword—not a request but a command piercing him in disguise. Leaving him stunned, but he couldn't show it.