Tainted

Appetence

Appetence| intense desire; instinctive inclination
—
Ariadne

Romeo doesn't take us home. Instead, he turns into the parking lot of a quaint, picturesque restaurant, its brightly colored awnings flapping gently in the midday breeze. My stomach churns—not with hunger, but with the anxiety that's been gnawing at me all day. The thought of food seems impossible right now.

It's strange that he's bringing me here. He's made it abundantly clear that he doesn't care about me. So why this sudden gesture? Is it some sort of twisted apology or another mind game? I can't read his expression as he parks the car and turns off the engine.

Romeo steps out of the car without a word, his face impassive. I follow suit, the gravel crunching under my shoes as I walk towards the entrance. The restaurant is charming, with flower boxes overflowing with vibrant blooms and a chalkboard sign announcing the day's specials in cheerful, looping script.

Inside, the air is cool and fragrant, filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and roasted garlic. The decor is rustic yet elegant, with wooden beams overhead and soft, ambient music playing in the background. A hostess greets us with a warm smile and leads us to a cozy corner table by the window.

I sit down, glancing around nervously. Romeo sits across from me, his eyes distant as he picks up the menu. I can't shake the feeling that there's an ulterior motive behind this outing.

We sit in silence for a few moments, the tension between us palpable. I try to focus on the menu, but my mind is racing. What is he up to? Finally, Romeo breaks the silence.

"Order whatever you want," he says flatly, not looking up from his menu. His tone is as cold as ever, devoid of any warmth or genuine concern.

I glance down at the menu, the words blurring together. "I'm not really hungry," I mumble, my voice barely above a whisper.

Romeo's eyes snap up to meet mine, and for a brief moment, I see a flicker of something in his gaze—frustration, maybe? Annoyance? But just as quickly, it's gone, replaced by his usual detached demeanor.

"You need to eat," he insists, his voice firm but still lacking any real emotion. "Order something."

I nod reluctantly, picking the first thing I see on the menu. The hostess returns to take our order, and I mumble my choice, barely paying attention to what I've selected.

As she walks away, the silence settles between us again, heavy and suffocating. I glance out the window, watching as a group of children play in the park across the street. Their laughter is a stark contrast to the tension at our table.

"If it's any consolation, I'm sorry for whatever my father might have done to you or your family," I say finally, my voice trembling slightly. I muster the courage to look him in the eye, hoping to find a trace of understanding. "I genuinely mean it, even if you might not think so."

Romeo's expression hardens even further, his eyes narrowing. "You think an apology is going to fix everything?" he sneers. "Your father's actions ruined lives, and you think a simple 'sorry' will make it all better?"

I flinch at his harsh words, but I hold my ground. "I know it won't change what happened," I reply quietly. "But I need you to know that I don't condone whatever he might have done that was so bad. But I'm trying to make things right, in whatever way I can."

He leans forward, his gaze intense. "You're just as guilty as he is," he hisses. "Your family brought nothing but misery, and now you want to play the hero? It's pathetic, you're fucking pathetic."

Tears sting my eyes. "I'm not trying to be a hero," I say softly. "I'm just trying to show that I'm different. That I don't want to follow in his footsteps."