Unraveled

Chapter 14

Caleb's eighteenth birthday began like any other summer morning in the Carter household. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting warm patterns across the kitchen floor. Aunt Claire moved briskly at the stove, the smell of pancakes filling the room, while Uncle Jonathan paced nearby, lost in thought.

Sitting at the table, Caleb gazed out the window, feeling strangely detached. He was eighteen now—an adult, technically—but it didn't feel any different. Living with the Carters since the accident had become routine, but even after all these years, it didn't quite feel like home.

A car door shut outside, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked out just as Isabelle stepped out, waving to her parents. Seeing her made him feel lighter—she was older, more self-assured, but still the same Izzy he'd grown up with. Her red hair glinted in the sun, looking deeper in color, like the auburn had gradually intensified over time.

"Isabelle's here!" Aunt Claire called, her voice bright with anticipation.

Caleb met her at the door, and she wrapped him in a warm hug.

"Happy birthday!" she said, her voice full of affection.

"Thanks," he replied, hugging her back. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed her until now.

As they pulled apart, he noticed something around her neck: a silver necklace with a small pendant shaped like a cypress tree.

"Nice necklace," he remarked.

Isabelle's hand moved to the pendant, her smile soft. "Thanks. My boyfriend gave it to me."

"Boyfriend?" Caleb raised an eyebrow, surprised. Isabelle rarely mentioned her relationships, and hearing about it today, on his birthday, felt like a reminder that things were changing—that they were both growing up.

"Yeah, he's great," she said, her fingers lingering on the pendant.

The day slipped by in a blur of familiar routines—breakfast with Aunt Claire and Uncle Jonathan, Isabelle's laughter filling the house as they reminisced. But beneath the surface, Caleb couldn't shake an unease. His aunt and uncle seemed distant, exchanging glances when they thought he wasn't watching. There was a new tension in the air.

As the sun set, Aunt Claire called Caleb into the living room, her expression serious. Caleb could sense something was coming, though he wasn't sure what. Isabelle followed him, settling quietly nearby, watching him with an empathetic gaze.

Uncle Jonathan sat beside Aunt Claire, a folder on his lap. Caleb's eyes were drawn to it, a chill creeping up his spine. The room felt unusually heavy, thick with unspoken emotions.

"Caleb," Aunt Claire began gently, "there's something we've been waiting to discuss with you. Now that you're eighteen, it's time you know."

She gestured toward the folder. Uncle Jonathan slid it across the coffee table toward Caleb, the manila surface betraying nothing of its importance.

Caleb reached for it, his fingers brushing the paper, his pulse quickening. "What is this?" he whispered.

"It's from your parents," Uncle Jonathan explained softly. "Their estate... everything they left behind. It's yours now."

Caleb's heart pounded. He hadn't known anything was left for him. He'd never considered that his parents had left him something—let alone everything.

"The house in Manhattan, their investments, their savings... It's all yours," Uncle Jonathan continued, his voice both steady and kind.

Caleb stared at the folder, struggling to absorb it. The life he thought was gone forever was suddenly here, waiting for him to claim it.

"You don't have to make any decisions right now," Isabelle said, her voice calm and reassuring. "We'll help you figure it out."

He looked up at her, grateful for her steady presence. She smiled, her hand briefly touching the small silver tree pendant at her throat.

Dinner that night was subdued, the weight of the inheritance hovering over Caleb like a cloud. They shared laughter and stories, and for fleeting moments, everything felt normal. But as the evening wore on, Caleb couldn't ignore the heaviness in his chest.

Later, after everyone had gone to bed, Caleb sat alone in the living room, the folder resting on his lap. He leafed through its contents, trying to make sense of this new reality. The house in Manhattan, the investments, the accounts—all felt distant, like they belonged to another life.

Footsteps broke the silence, and he looked up to see Isabelle standing in the doorway, her red hair catching the faint light. She smiled and joined him on the couch.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he replied, though the weight of it all pressed down on him.

She nudged him with her elbow, offering a warm, grounding presence. "You'll figure it out. You always do."

Caleb nodded, grateful, though he didn't have the words to say so.

They sat quietly, letting the day settle. Isabelle's fingers brushed her pendant again, but neither of them spoke.