Broken

Chapter 2: Lines drawn

The next morning, Zac stepped out of his bedroom, still feeling the tension from the previous day's encounter with Fatima Wilson. He inhaled deeply, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and his mother's cooking wafting through the hallway, offering a comforting familiarity. As he entered the kitchen, he found his parents seated at the small, round table, enjoying breakfast.

Tia looked up and smiled warmly. "Morning, Zac. Did you sleep well?"

Zac shrugged, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee. "Well enough," he replied, joining them at the table. He glanced at the spread: pancakes, eggs, bacon, and a bowl of fresh fruit. It was a typical Tia Taylor breakfast, hearty and nourishing.

Michael took a sip of his coffee, eyeing his son with a thoughtful expression. "Listen, Zac, I've been thinking," he began, setting his mug down. "You're probably not going to want to stay here with us for long."

Zac raised an eyebrow, pausing mid-bite. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Michael nodded, as if anticipating this conversation. "There's a one-bedroom apartment on the 2nd floor. It's not much, but it's cozy, and you can have it if you want. It'll give you the space you need."

Zac considered the offer, appreciating his father's understanding. "I'll take it," he decided. "I love you both, and your cooking is amazing, Ma," he added, glancing at Tia with a grin, "but I need to be on my own, especially with everything going on."

Tia chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. "None taken, Zac. I understand. It's important for you to have your own space, especially with the stress of this case."

Michael leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Good. We can move your stuff down later today. It's already furnished, but you can bring whatever you need."

"Thanks, Dad. That'd be great," Zac said, feeling a sense of relief. Having his own place, even if it was just a floor below, would give him the mental space he needed to focus on the looming legal battle with Fatima Wilson.

Tia poured more coffee into Zac's mug, her gaze softening. "You know, Zac, your father and I are proud of you. This isn't an easy fight, and we know you're doing your best."

Zac looked at his parents, feeling a swell of gratitude. "Thanks, Mom. It means a lot to hear that. I just... I have to stand up to her. She's not used to people saying no to her, and that's part of the problem."

Michael's expression hardened. "She thinks she can bulldoze her way through everything and everyone. But she hasn't met a Taylor yet. We don't back down, especially not when it comes to protecting our own."

Zac nodded, feeling the weight of his father's words. "I know. And I'm going to make sure she knows that too. But it's not just about the building. It's about the principle, about standing up for what's right."

Tia reached out and squeezed Zac's hand. "You're doing the right thing, Zac. Just remember to take care of yourself too. It's easy to get lost in all of this."

Zac smiled, appreciating his mother's concern. "I will, Mom. I promise."

The rest of the breakfast passed with lighter conversation, a welcome break from the tension of the case. Zac felt a mixture of anticipation and apprehension about moving into the apartment. It was a small step towards independence, but also a necessary one, given the circumstances.

After they finished eating, Zac helped his parents clear the table and wash the dishes. As they worked, Tia chatted about the latest neighborhood gossip, while Michael offered some advice on how to handle the upcoming legal proceedings. It was a normal family morning, comforting in its routine despite the underlying stress.
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