∆ᴏɴᴇ∆

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Destiny.

Sometimes referred to as fate, is a predetermined course of events. It may be conceived as a predetermined future, whether in general or of an individual. I, for one, don’t believe in destiny or fate. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason during a certain period of time. Say, you’re running low on money and you’re behind on your rent by a month which makes your landlord angry and he threatens to evict you, but you’re working a part-time job and you don’t make enough money for that, and then suddenly you find fifty dollars on the ground. That’s just a coincidence. It’s not fate. Someone in front of you dropped it and doesn’t even realize it’s missing, and you, being greedy, don't ask if it’s theirs. You keep it to yourself and bless the gods that you don’t even believe in. 

This is the prime example of the world I live in today. People shove past you on the sidewalk, crowd you in the subway, cut in front of you in the line to get your morning coffee and try and sneak a hand into your purse or your pocket. Just another day. It was always the same. Wake up at seven in the morning, take a quick shower, dry my hair, get dressed, leave, take the smelly, crowded subway to 11th street, catch a cab with a driver who talks too much to 13th, walk in the Queens Chronicle, avoid Jerry the Janitor who smells like stale Poptarts, sit down in my creaky, worn-out chair, and start writing about the cat that got stuck in the tree at Central Park. 

Hi, I’m Y/n L/n and my life was the most boring life you could ever imagine. Note how I said it was. As in, past tense. I used to have a boring life until I got a phone call from a lawyer I’d never heard of before. 

Hello, is this Miss Y/n L/n?” A voice I didn’t recognize asked over the phone. I leaned back in my chair, making it creak and groan as I sighed. Probably another 85-year-old hotline caller to report the sketchy guy who actually turned out to be the local pizza boy.

“Yes, this is her. What can I do for you today, sir?” I asked, leaning forward and flipped open a notepad before clicking a pen. 

My name is Aaron Holt and I’m from the law firm Holt and Green,” He said, making me sit up straighter. Holy shit. I didn’t get sued, did I? “Don’t worry, it’s about nothing bad. In fact, I think you’ll find this news quite the opposite.”

“Oh, um, okay. What’s this about?” I asked, tapping my pen on the paper nervously.

I’m actually an inheritance lawyer,” He said, making me raise my eyebrows, even though he couldn’t see it. 

“Oh. W-was there a death I didn’t know about?” I asked. I hoped with everything I didn’t miss another funeral. Poor Aunt Cindy. 

No, no, nothing like that,” He said. “This is actually about a distant relative. He left half his estate to your great-grandmother, who died before he did, which left it to your grandmother, who also passed then to your mother. Since none of those people are alive, the inheritance is passed down to you. You would have gotten it much sooner, but as the wills were being re-read, they found your family name at the bottom.”

“Who was the relative who found it?” I asked, ready to write their name down and pull out some information on them. 

Uh..let’s see...ah, here it is. His name is Joseph Joestar, and he’s 19.” Aaron said. 

“Okay...is there anything else you can tell me? I’ve never heard that name before,” I asked, looking over as someone entered our floor. 

I can, but I think it would be better to do this in person. Would you like to meet over lunch or dinner today?” Aaron asked. I looked down at my watch. 

“Well, considering my fifteen-minute lunch break just ended, how about dinner?” I asked. 

Perfect. It’ll be my treat. 6:30 sound okay?” I got off at 5 and could run home to freshen up if I needed to. 

“Yup. Where are we meeting?” I asked. 

How about the diner on 23rd?” Aaron suggested to which I agreed before we bid goodbye and hung up. 

Joseph Joestar, huh? He’s 19, which means he’s about two years younger than me, give or take a few months. I wonder how I never heard about him. It was probably because he was on my mom’s side. I never knew anybody from her side of the family. My mother’s side of the family had a history of early leukemia. It’s the reason I have, or so I thought, no family left on her side. Leukemia took my mother after she had my brother, and four years after I was born. Because I was so young, I really don’t remember much about my mom. Sure, I knew what she looked like and sections of small memories, but I can’t really think of anything past that. The only real thing I have about my mom is the stories my dad had told me and my brother. When I knew my mom, she was already sick. It just got worse over the years, and when my parents found out she was pregnant, they were afraid that both my mom and my unborn brother wouldn’t make it. Because of this, my mom was in the hospital for most of her pregnancy, giving birth through a c-section she wasn’t awake for. Even then, the tumors had taken their toll, and my mom never got to see my brother. They tried to save her. I was so confused as a four-year-old, carefully holding my brother in my arms, asking the doctor where my mommy had gone. I remember my dad asking if she at least got to see her baby’s face and the doctor hesitating before shaking his head sadly with a soft and broken, “I’m so sorry,”. I’ll never forget the way my dad sobbed while we were in the room, waiting for her to return. I’d never seen my dad cry before that, and I think that’s when I realized I was never going to see my mom ever again. 

My dad did his best to raise us, making sure we got everything we needed, that we were happy, and raised well. There were always presents under the tree, even if there weren’t many, food on the table, and plenty of love to give us. Daniel was my brother’s name, a name my mother picked out before she passed. He’s sixteen, and the biggest softie you’ll ever meet. He’s just like my dad.

“What are you doing, Y/n?!”

The sudden jerk of my seat and the loud voice in my ear made me jump and scream in surprise. I heard cackling behind me, making me immediately spin around and glare at the two men behind me. 

You know what, I take back what I just said.

“Dad! Daniel! You’re both asses!” I huffed, kicking my brother in his shin with my heels. 

“S-sorry, honey, you...you just looked really serious,” My dad giggled, trying so hard not to laugh anymore. 

“Why are you even here?” I huffed, looking at my brother. “Shouldn’t you be in school?”

He shrugged and put his hands in the pockets of his torn jean-jacket that he always seemed to wear. “We got let out early.”

“So you both come to annoy me while I’m at work?” I said, to which they nodded and each draped an arm over my shoulder. 

“We miss you, Y/n! You never come home to us! I miss my daughter so much!” My dad said dramatically. 

“And I miss my big sister! She never comes to hang out with her lonely little brother!” Daniel cried. It struck me. 

“What did you guys break?”

Daniel immediately pointed to our dad. “He shattered the coffee table!”

“Nuh-uh! Your fatass is the one that broke it!” He defended quickly.

“Yeah, ‘cause you threw me onto it!” Daniel exclaimed. 

“You jumped on me! I defended myself!”

“You threw me! Across the room!”

“I thought you were a robber!”

I sighed and shook my head at them. 

Welcome to the beginning of my un-boring life. 

ʏᴇʟʟᴏᴡ ∆ ᴄᴀᴇsᴀʀ ᴢᴇᴘᴘᴇʟɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ∆Where stories live. Discover now