𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐂 ৷৷ ᴅ. ᴅᴇᴍᴇᴛʀɪᴜꜱ ✶

𝙆𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞

PAST POV.

The young boy was sitting on his bed while reading a novel. He was always exceptionally smart for his age, and his parents thought that he was gifted. Katashi, from a young age had a close relationship with their mother. He loved and respected his mother, as if she was the only person that mattered.

His mother looked nothing like him, however. She had dark brown eyes, and dirty blonde hair. Katashi on the other hand, looked exactly like his father. The same man that he had despised. His father had the similar deep dark blue eyes, and black hair that Katashi had initially inherited. Katashi never had a close relationship with his father, in fact, he despised him from the depths of his being. The things that his father would do, was things that he was terrified of.

Katashi sat alone at their estate's library, casually reading a novel when his mother walks to him. Katashi, excited, waves at her. 

"Katashi, I didn't you would have awaken so early, it is merely Saturday morning. Don't you think you should rest?" she asked gently, Katashi could stare at his mother for hours, and still be left at awe how ethereal she truly was. Her graceful movements, from her calming aura, everything felt surreal from his mother.

"Mama! I thought you were still going to sleep. I was going to surprise you with my homework being done early so we could walk around our garden longer!" he said innocently, his mother was surprised, and blushed from happiness. Back then, these little moments were the reasons why Katashi's mother never left. 

"Do you want me to help you, my dear?" she asked slowly, and calmly. Her gentle movements, and patient care was what had nurtured Katashi's demeanour during his highschool years. Katashi's mother was always a patient and present mother. 

Their days would go the same. The same, Katashi would finish his work, and he would spend the rest of his time with his mother. They would do random things their servants would do sometimes, such as baking cookies, or cooking a soup. Or sometimes, they would play hide and seek in the big mansion, where even though his mother could see him hiding behind the thin lamp, she would still pretend he didn't see her. They would do fun crafts, anything cute, or maybe anything funny. These times, were calm and moments the two cherished. These times was something Katashi would look forward too, but for his mother, it was something she craved.

"I'm telling you where have you been all these weeks. You don't even send me ONE message of where you are," her calm voice would slightly rise, as her husband finally came back from one of his notorious business trips. 

"I told you, I was at Westalis, trying to see their economic state," he would retort back, almost annoyingly. His tall, and imposing figure would look down upon her, "Kaya, I'm warning you, bring this useless topic up again and I'll make sure you never speak of it again. We both don't want to resort to those measures."

Kaya kept her mouth shut, just as she always did. At least whenever he was home. It doesn't take a genius to tell that her husband was a lying prick. Her husband's job was a staying at an office job, not going to other cities job. She knew, that during those weeks he was 'gone' he was probably out with other people, specifically women during those times. But, she never brought it up. She never brought it up, out of fear for herself, her family, and of course, Katashi.

"I'll be gone for another two weeks, so make sure to take care of the kid," Zarek spoke to Kaya, as Katashi watched his father pack up his bags again. He hadn't even stayed home for two days, before getting ready to leave again. And, well, Kaya had had enough of his bullshit.

"What, are Katashi and I so pathetic to the point you can't even stay one working week with us?" she spoke, against him, for the first time. It felt terrifying, but almost exhilirating. Katashi's eyes had widened, to be frank, he had always heard his parents fight. But he never brought it up. Because although he felt sick to the stomach whenever someone brought up his father, he could also see that his mother was exhausted. Not from hatred, or keeping up with him, but because she truly did love his father. So he never brought it up, because he knew if he did, he would just be gliding the knife across her skin with more intensity than it already was.