BEASTLY INFERNO

BEASTLY INFERNO: 36

The silence that followed my words hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. My father's jaw tightened, his eyes shifting between me and Tristan as if searching for something that would make sense of all this. My mother sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping.

"Well," my father finally muttered, "we're not going anywhere tonight." He glanced toward the window, where the night sky was already dark. "No car, no hotel nearby."

My mother nodded, though her eyes were still fixed on Tristan, her wariness barely concealed. "We'll stay here," she said, her tone firm but resigned. "But don't think for a second we're sleeping peacefully."

I bit my lip, my chest tight as the weight of the situation settled over me. I hadn't expected them to just accept things, but the idea of them staying under the same roof as Tristan, watching him with suspicion, made my stomach churn.

"We'll take the couch," my father said, his voice still clipped. "We'll make do."

I exchanged a glance with Tristan, who remained silent but calm, his eyes softening when they met mine. He gave me the faintest nod, as if to say it was okay, that he understood.

"I'll get you some blankets," I offered quickly, eager to break the tension. "You don't have to—"

"No," my mother interrupted, her tone sharp. "We'll manage. We just want to get through the night."

I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. They were being polite, but it was clear that they didn't trust Tristan. Not yet.

As I moved to grab some pillows from the closet, my mother's voice followed me, a little softer this time. "Neroli... what about your studies? Are you still keeping up?"

I paused, my hands gripping the fabric of the pillowcases. "Yes, Mom. I'm still keeping up," I replied, my voice quiet. "I'm on track."

My father cleared his throat, as if to remind us that this wasn't the time for small talk, but my mother gave a satisfied nod. "Good. We just want to make sure you're not getting distracted... with everything going on."

"I'm not," I assured her, though the truth was that it had been hard to focus on anything lately.

With that, they settled awkwardly on the couch, trying to make themselves comfortable. But I knew neither of them would sleep a wink tonight. Not with Tristan in the next room.

I glanced at him again, feeling a mixture of frustration and gratitude. Frustration that we had to go through this, but gratitude that he was being patient—respectful, even, in the face of their distrust.

"They'll come around," I whispered to him, more hopeful than I felt.

"I'll be right here," Tristan said quietly, offering me a reassuring smile. "Whatever happens, I'm not going anywhere."

~**~

The morning light filtered through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow over the living room. My parents were stirring awake, their faces weary from a sleepless night. I could hear the rustle of blankets and the quiet clearing of my father's throat as they tried to shake off the tension that had settled in the night before.

I found Tristan in the kitchen, already moving about with quiet efficiency, brewing coffee and slicing bread. He looked calm, but I could see the shadows under his eyes, the same exhaustion that weighed on me.

My parents emerged from the living room, exchanging glances before sitting at the small table in the corner. The silence stretched, heavy with the unspoken questions lingering between them and Tristan.

Finally, my father broke the quiet, his voice low but steady. "You said there's more to you than meets the eye," he said, fixing his gaze on Tristan. "If we're going to be here, we want to understand... what you are."