Swamp Murder

Swamp Murder. 20

"Where are you?" My mom asked, her voice a little concerned. "This isn't home."

"I'm at a friend's place," I explained. "He's gone to work, but I'm keeping his grandma company."

"Oh, that's good. Can I speak with her?" my mom asked.

I handed the phone to Grandma, feeling a bit of relief wash over me as I stepped back. It was afternoon where my mom was, and I could hear the distant sound of courtrooms in the background. As Grandma took the phone, she introduced herself, her warm tone easily putting my mom at ease.

The two of them got along surprisingly well, exchanging pleasantries and chatting about family and life in general. It was nice to see Grandma so comfortable, and I could tell that my mom appreciated the connection too.

When the call ended, I noticed a subtle shift in Grandma's demeanor. She was more relaxed with me now, the tension that had lingered earlier melting away. Maybe it was the conversation with my mom, or maybe it was the simple act of opening up a bit, but I could feel that things between us had shifted, even if just a little.

Grandma explained everything to me, and as I listened, a wave of disgust washed over me. I couldn't believe a mother would do that to her own son. It was cruel—unforgivable.

"I'm sorry," I said, at a loss for words.

"It's not your fault, Wang," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness.

I exhaled, trying to contain the frustration bubbling inside me. "I'll do what I can for him, but can we keep this between us for now?"

She gave me a small, understanding nod. "Sure," she murmured, yawning slightly.

I glanced at the time and felt a pang of guilt. "Sorry for keeping you up. You should be in bed now," I said gently, walking her back inside.

As soon as Grandma entered, I lingered by the door instead of following. That's when Ji Li's voice broke the silence.

"Are you leaving?" he asked, watching me curiously.

"Yeah," I nodded, then smirked slightly. "But I'll be here tomorrow morning—for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

Ji Li's face lit up. "Okay!" he beamed.

I chuckled, bidding them goodbye before making my way down the quiet street. A few blocks away, my driver was already waiting for me. As I slid into the car, I leaned back with a deep breath.

"Take me home," I said, my mind already racing with what to do next.

The drive was unnecessarily quiet, the kind that made you feel every second pass. I usually didn't mind silence, but tonight, it gave me too much time to think. About Zhan. About his mother. About everything that had unfolded.

When I finally arrived, I stepped inside, and the feeling hit me instantly—big and empty.

The house was pristine, perfectly arranged, just as I had left it. But it lacked something. Warmth. Life. Unlike Grandma's house, where laughter and conversation filled the air, mine felt like a shell—cold and impersonal.

I let out a slow breath and loosened my tie, walking further inside. I had spent years building walls, keeping people at a distance, but tonight, for the first time in a long time, I wondered if I was tired of being alone.

I entered the house and freshened up, shaking off the weight of the conversation with Grandma. My dad had always been protective, so I had military men assigned to guard me. But I never treated them like shadows—I gave them freedom to live their lives, to go wherever they wanted, to do whatever they pleased.