𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐇

XXVIII

— RORI —

Zephaniah is scheduled to leave the country early on Sunday morning.

"Where exactly will you go?" i had asked him earlier on.

His face had appeared on the left side of my phone screen, during a FaceTime call with Wyatt, and i almost jumped out of my skin at the sight, for i was about to start talking about him.

I think he could tell, and Wyatt clearly could too, as the latter smirked at me when i so obviously glared daggers at him.

The two of them are friends, it appears.

Sometimes i forget that Wyatt has the option to hang out with his brothers instead of me.

"Hm," Zephaniah had replied, thoughtfully, as if he hadn't yet figured that out. "Perhaps London. I've always been fond of the city, and i have an apartment there, after all...Maybe Athens too. I don't like being in one place for too long."

At first, when he told us he would be leaving, one could imagine that my prone to overthinking mind had spiralled.

He has barely been here three months and now he's leaving?

He doesn't know when he will be back?

But then i realised that, so long as Zephaniah is out of the country, Damiano and others can no longer get to him, and i felt okay again.

My eldest brother is acting as he normally does, and it as if his near meltdown on his birthday never happened.

I had panicked, initially, thinking that he was fleeing the country because he was in danger, but, even if that was his reason for doing so, all seems to be well now.

After all, he would not be so relaxed if he was in serious danger. And he surely would have picked a destination by now.

Zephaniah is spontaneous but by no means indecisive.

And, to conclude, i am not so much hurt by his behaviour the other day as i am confused.

If i was hurt by every little thing Zephaniah said or did, i would spend most of my life feeling sorry for myself.

I think i have gotten better at not caring, as the months go by. There is a saying, i am sure, about developing thick skin...

The bell on the door chimes as i walk into Aunt Tosca's cafe.

Christian has chosen to sit at our usual table, at the back of the cafe, where the whirring of the coffee machine is not so piercing. While standing in the queue, i idly observe him. I then order myself a blueberry muffin, as well as a chai latte, and make my way over to the table.

Christian smiles at me as i take a seat, nodding in approval at the sight of my order.

He wears grey sweatpants and a navy blue, tight-fitting t-shirt which represents the Vancouver Canucks. His hair is slightly wet and tousled, and i glare at it.

"I, uh...had a hockey game this morning," he tells me, avoiding my gaze as though he is embarrassed to be seen like this.

I don't know why he's embarrassed. Though, i realise that i am sitting here in a white shirt and pinstripe pleated mini skirt and conclude that he must feel underdressed.

I have to say, his hair does look quite silly. He could have at least run a comb through it.

"I didn't realise you played in the NHL," i say, causing his eyebrows to furrow in confusion. "Your top..." i add, and he glances down, his expression morphing into one of realisation.