𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎
❝ You will always and forever be Made For My Control Kyra, just as I was designed to be under yours ❞
𝐊𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 a woman with passion and a fiery heart. As the youngest...
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" He was her undoing, and yet, she craved his destruction more than she craved her own salvation " Unknown ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐈 𝐇𝐔𝐅𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐀 breath as I set the grocery bags down on the kitchen island, the plastic handles digging into the fabric and leaving faint imprints along my blazer's forearms. I roll my shoulders, easing the tension creeping up my neck, and glance at the bags—too many for one trip, but I hadn't wanted to come back for a second. The room smells faintly of coffee and lemons from this morning, and for a moment, I stand there, rubbing at my arms, grateful to finally be free of the weight.
"You need to visit them more Ky, its almost been half a decade since they last saw you," my older brother Xander mutters, startling me as I grab my phone from my pocket, and bring the device to my face. His voice is low and gruff from having just woken up from his late nap after a fourteen hour shift not too long ago.
"Xander–"
"I'm serious Kyra, Mum an Dad real worried, yuh know. Yuh ain't even send a text or make a call." His accent shifts from his light Canadian accent to his Trini accent. The mother tongue which I often catch myself slipping into when pissed off to the core.
I zero in on his neutral features, catching the deep lines of a lack of sleep, and the slight frown that rests on his features as he speaks, scolding me – as usual, for my lack of communication with my parents.
Xander Hart, the eldest child of well-known Trinidadian mechanic Kameron Hart and OBGYN Kiara Hart, is admired for his classically handsome face, with dark locs that sway to shoulder length, milky brown eyes, and a sharp jawline. His skin is a deep chocolate brown, slightly darker than mine, reminiscent of the rich color nestled between the marshmallows of a s'more.
Undoubtedly popular with women, Xander attracts attention effortlessly—not just for his looks but also for his undeniable charm. It's how he won over my sister-in-law, Ahmale Hart, who now carries their third child, joining their two rascals, Malikai and Zion.
But Xander is more than just charm and good looks. His exceptional intelligence earned him a place at Harvard, and he has since become the youngest and most trusted surgeon in my childhoods city Montreal, Canada.
It's safe to say that Xander was my parents' favourite. His easygoing demeanour and effortless charm made him the golden child in their eyes. Meanwhile, my other eldest brother, Xavier, and I hadn't inherited any of those traits they seemed to cherish so much. While Xander breezed through life with a smile and a disarming laugh, Xavier and I often found ourselves in the shadow of expectations that felt out of reach.
Xavier, with his more serious and contemplative nature, had a tendency to question everything, which often put him at odds with our parents' more conventional ideals. He was the one who challenged their views, unafraid to speak his mind, while I grappled with my own identity, feeling the pressure to conform to the mould they had created.
