𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | 𝟏𝟖+

chapter four

ARIA

SINCE THE TENDER AGE OF TEN, the longing desire to run away has consumed my thoughts incessantly. Running away has always occupied my thoughts, yet I have never mustered the courage to take that leap. Despite my intense longing, I found myself restrained, unable to act on my desires.

There has always been this peculiar sensation, an undeniable urge that pulsates within me, compelling me to escape. Perhaps it stems from my inherent restlessness, a yearning to break free from the confines of staying in one place and experiencing the monotony of routine.

Or maybe, deep down, it arises from a profound need to separate from the dynamics and expectations of my family. My mind was in conflict, torn between the choice of forging my own path or following the predetermined path that my family had laid out for me. At times, I found myself uncertain about what I should do.

At this moment, my mind was engaged in a battle with itself, consumed by the thoughts swirling within it. The words uttered by Ronan yesterday continued to linger, refusing to fade away, and I struggled to understand their meaning. I attempted to push them aside, but they relentlessly persisted in my thoughts. What did he imply by saying I was the last Morretti remaining? Did he forget about my twin brothers? Or was he deliberately attempting to manipulate my mind? If that was his intention, then he had succeeded.

"When can I be able to get in contact with my family?" I ask, and Stella whips her head around. Her eyes shoot to Nicholas and he clears his throat. I roll my eyes and pick at the rest of my eggs. I truly wondered why they even got into the mess in the first place. They clearly were truly devoted to Ronan, and I'm not sure why. Well, I understood why Nicholas would be. He was his twin brother. But why Stella? If i was Stella, I would try to stay away from all of this. She wasn't exactly important. Nor was she like any of us.

"Since neither of you will answer my questions, maybe I'll ask the man upstairs." I use my hands to push myself off my seat. Stella stands in front of me and shakes her head. "Move out of my way," I tell her, but she remains frozen in place. Rolling my eyes, I decide to walk around her and ascend the short steps. I lead my way through the hallway until I stop at the forbidden double white doors. I wrap my hand around the handle and push it open, slightly.

I push the door even wider. Since it's morning, the sunlight gives the gloomy room a warmer touch. The sun rays cascade across the neatly made bed and the grey wooden floors. Everything is in place; the room doesn't look as messy as it did the first time I entered. I've been here for three days, and I've completely wiped that memory from my mind. It's not my business, nor something I should be thinking about. The only difference is that Ronan is nowhere in sight.

I stand in his closet, marking the spot where I'm standing. My eyes scan the whole place. This could easily be a bedroom; that's how big it is. It's a four-walled room with racks of clothing on each side-his clothing. I also notice how everything is organized and put together. His clothing is color-coded, and one side is filled with dressy shirts while the other side is filled with suits. Above each rack, his slacks are neatly laid out, also color-coded. It doesn't make sense since there aren't any other colors but black or navy blue. Those could easily fit in the same category. Below each rack are his shiny and expensive-looking shoes.

In the middle of the entire closet stands a wardrobe island centerpiece. The top is made of glass, allowing me to see all the expensive watches, rings, and chains. This truly is a man's closet. It even smells like a man. I'm weirdly intrigued.