An Astronomer's Guide to Falling Angels

Chapter 3

The next morning, the house felt different—lighter, almost. Astor had woken up with a rare sense of calm, the events of the previous night still lingering like a dream. Arty had snuck out before sunrise, leaving through the same window she'd entered, with a quiet laugh and a promise to see him at school.

Astor had smiled after her as she left, feeling more at peace than he had in weeks. Now, in the morning light, that feeling still clung to him, giving him a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.

He wandered downstairs to the kitchen, his steps unusually light. The warm smell of breakfast greeted him, and for the first time in a while, his appetite stirred. He hadn't been eating much lately, but today, something felt different. He felt good.

Mrs. Albescu, their long-time cook, was bustling about, and when she saw him enter, she gave him a warm smile.

"Morning, Little Master," she greeted, her voice pressing on each syllable sharply. "You're up early today! Can I get you something special?"

Astor smiled back, still in that pleasant haze. "Good morning, Ana. Just the usual, if that's okay."

She nodded and quickly got to work, preparing his favourite breakfast: scrambled eggs with herbs, toast, and fresh fruit. Astor sat at the table, feeling a little out of place in his own kitchen. The usual weight that hung over him every morning, the dread of facing his parents or the stifling silence of the house, seemed to lift just a little. He filled his plate with more food than usual, feeling that same peace from the night before settle deeper into his bones.

He didn't even notice his mother until she spoke, her voice dripping with condescension.

"Well, look who's suddenly developed an appetite," she remarked, her eyes scanning his plate as she entered the dining room. "I see you've decided to eat enough for two this morning. Are youplanning to hibernate for the winter, darling?"

Astor flinched slightly at her tone, but he forced a smile, trying to hold onto the good mood Arty had left him in. "I... I guess I was just hungry today."

His mother raised an eyebrow, sitting down at the table with her usual elegance. "Just be careful, darling," she said, her voice sickly sweet. "You wouldn't want to overdo it. You're already starting to put on a little weight."

Her words hit him like a slap to the face. Astor's hand froze halfway to his mouth, the fork trembling slightly. He hadn't even considered it. He looked down at his plate, suddenly hyper-aware of how much food he'd taken.

Mrs. Albescu, who had been nearby, cast a sharp glance at Astor's mother, her hands wiping the counter with more force than necessary. Astor's throat tightened. The joy he'd felt just moments ago evaporated, replaced by the all-too-familiar knot of anxiety in his chest.

"I... I didn't think it was that much," he mumbled, his appetite vanishing completely.

His mother gave a small, dismissive laugh. "Well, it is. You should be careful. You wouldn't want to start looking... unbecoming."

Astor put down his fork, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at his plate, the nausea rising steadily in his stomach. His mother continued to prattle on about something, but her voice faded into the background. All he could think about was the food sitting in front of him, mocking him. The eggs suddenly looked too greasy, the toast too thick, the fruit too sweet.

"It's quite unseemly, really. You're not a child anymore, Astor. You should be mindful of your intake. Gluttony is hardly an attractive quality."

Her words cut through Astor, and he feels his stomach turn. The joy he felt moments ago drains away, replaced by a familiar sense of shame and discomfort. He slowly puts down his fork, his appetite gone.