Stuck with the enemy

Chapter 47: Finely in Peace

Jacob's Story

"Beta said this place is ready to live in, but all I see is dust," I said, my voice breaking the heavy silence. The others didn't laugh, didn't even smile. Typical. I tried again, waving my hand theatrically at the swirling motes of dust catching the faint light through the windows. "I mean, seriously, guys, we've got until tomorrow to make this place livable, so let's give it some life."

Deniz glanced at me "Then maybe we should start cleaning," she said back, the ghost of her sadness clearly being present in her voice.

"Actually," Aras said from the corner, his voice flat but edged with something like amusement, "You're right. Let's make this place our home again!"

Deniz clapped her hands together, ignoring the puff of dust that flew up. "Okay. Clean everything. Dust, sweep, scrub. We'll divide the rooms, and Jacob, you can start with the kitchen."

Aras added, his tone amused as he pulled his hoodie over his head. "I'll take the upstairs bedrooms. Deniz, why don't you tackle the living room?"
Deniz glanced around the dusty space, her hands on her hips. "Fine, but someone's going to owe me after this." She shot a pointed look at me and I groaned dramatically.

"Sure, sure. I'll owe you... something," I mumbled, trudging toward the kitchen. "This better not include rat skeletons."

"I feel so appreciated," I muttered, trudging toward the kitchen with exaggerated reluctance.

The kitchen was... a nightmare.

Dust caked every surface, cobwebs hung in the corners, and there was an overwhelming scent of stale air mixed with something I couldn't quite place. It smelled like old memories.

I grabbed a rag and set to work wiping down the counters. As I scrubbed, I could hear Deniz and Aras moving through the house. Their footsteps were slow, hesitant, like they were walking on eggshells. I couldn't blame them. It was their house.

"Jacob," Aras's voice carried from the hallway, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"What?" I called back, pausing mid-scrub.

"Don't break anything," he said dryly.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, because this place is in such pristine condition. Wouldn't want to ruin the... uh... artistic arrangement of dust and spiderwebs."

Deniz's laughter echoed faintly from the living room, and for a moment, the tension in the air seemed to ease.

I finished the kitchen faster than expected-or maybe I just got lazy halfway through. Either way, I wandered back into the main room to find Deniz sweeping furiously, her movements almost mechanical.

"Hey," I said, leaning against the doorframe. "You're going to wear that broom down to a toothpick if you keep going like that."

She paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I just... want it to feel like home again," she admitted softly.

"It will," I said, surprising even myself with the certainty in my voice. "Give it time."

Aras was upstairs, moving through the bedrooms. I could hear the faint creak of floorboards as he walked. Deniz glanced toward the staircase, her brow furrowed.

"He's been quiet," she said.

I shrugged. "You know Aras. He keeps it all locked up in there." I tapped my temple for emphasis.

"Yeah," she murmured, her gaze distant. "Speaking of which, how's it going up there, Aras?"

Aras leaned over the railing, a slight smile on his face. "Found an old photo album in one of the closets," he said, holding up a dusty book. "Thought you might want to see it."