Beneath the Stagnant Sky

CHAPTER II

THE WEIGHT OF SILENCE

Eli's POV

After my conversation with Caelum at District Café, I headed home, but I couldn't get that guy and everything he said about the 25 wishes out of my head. Honestly, I don't care about the consequences of what I'm doing. Even now, I still can't believe I actually entertained his nonsense.

"Stupid, Eli," I muttered to myself, shaking my head as I walked into the house.

The moment I opened the door, I was greeted by Grandma Seraphine. She was staring at me intently, like she was about to scold me.

"Maeve, where have you been? It's thirty minutes past six already. You weren't answering my calls or even my texts," she said firmly.

It's always like this at home. She has this rule that I have to be home on or before six o'clock in the evening. I know she's just concerned about me, and this is her way of disciplining me, but sometimes, it feels like too much. Imagine—I'm already 23 years old, yet I still feel like a teenager under strict supervision.

I forced a smile and replied, "La, I'm sorry. I was really craving coffee from the café district, and since it was rush hour, there was a long line. So, I waited. And I wasn't ignoring your calls—my battery died." I showed her my phone as proof and walked up to hug her.

No matter how strict Grandma Sera can be, she's the only family I have aside from my father, who's always abroad.

That's just how it has always been.

My father, Damian Almeda, is the CEO of Almeda Group of Companies, a major name in the business world. To everyone else, he's a brilliant entrepreneur, a man who built an empire with his own hands. But to me, he's just a stranger who happens to be my father. He spends most of his time abroad, managing his empire, making deals, growing his wealth. Meanwhile, I'm here living in a house that's too big, too quiet, too empty.

We're rich, but I've never felt like I had anything of real value. Money doesn't buy warmth. It doesn't replace the presence of a parent. It doesn't fill the void left by a mother I never met.

She died giving birth to me. I never heard her voice, never felt her warmth—yet I live every single day knowing I was the reason she's gone. I don't even have to be told. I can see it in my father's eyes every time he looks at me, like I'm a living reminder of what he lost. Maybe that's why he's barely here. Maybe that's why I feel like no matter what I do, I'll never be enough.

Lola never blamed me—at least, not out loud. But I know she's overprotective because she already lost my mother, and I'm the only thing left of her. Still, it doesn't change the fact that I grew up feeling like a burden. I was never the child anyone wanted I was the child that took someone away.

Growing up, I had to be strong, even when I didn't want to be. I had to pretend I was okay, even when I wasn't. I had to be grateful, even when all I ever felt was lonely. It's exhausting, carrying this weight, feeling like I owe my existence an apology.

And maybe... maybe that's why I didn't hesitate when Caelum told me to make a wish.

Because if my entire life has been nothing but pain, then what's the point of being afraid of what happens next?

She sighed and patted my back. "Alright, wash up and change your clothes. We'll eat by seven," she said before heading to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

I nodded absentmindedly, my thoughts still swirling.

Maybe, just maybe, this time... I'll finally get to choose what happens to me.

>>

After dinner, Eli retreated to her room, exhausted from the day's events. She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind restless despite the fatigue weighing down on her. The conversation with Caelum lingered in her thoughts, replaying over and over like a song stuck on repeat.

Twenty-five wishes... she thought bitterly. What a ridiculous idea.

And yet, she had already made one.

"Make a wish, and I'll grant it."

At the time, she didn't hesitate. She wished for something simple, something she had longed for ever since she could remember—to sleep without dreaming.

Dreams had always been a cruel tormentor, a constant reminder of what she had lost. Every night, she was forced to relive the absence of a mother she had never met, the hollow ache of growing up with a father who was barely there. Her nights were filled with whispers of a past she couldn't change, of a life that never truly felt like hers.

So, she wished for silence. For nothingness. For a night where she wouldn't have to feel.

As her eyelids grew heavier, Eli wondered—if this wish had really been granted, if she would finally be free from the dreams that haunted her.

And for the first time in years, she fell asleep without seeing a single thing.

***