Bound by Whispers

two

Ethan's POV

"Your daughter," my father began, his voice tinged with curiosity, "which college is she attending again?"

"It's Rutherford College, a highly regarded institution," the man replied, seemingly content with his response. But I, on the other hand, felt far from satisfied. I never desired to study here, in this place, in this country. All I yearned for was an opportunity to escape.

"I've been contemplating enrolling my son there as well. Perhaps your daughter can assist him in fitting in," father continued, his gaze now focused on me. Fit in? The issue at hand was not about fitting in; it was about the caliber of individuals present in this environment.

These so-called "cool and popular" individuals often behaved foolishly, lacking discipline and basic manners. Who had deemed bullying as an attribute of being "cool" and "famous"? Deep down, we all knew it originated from a place of insecurity and misguided judgement.

"You have a son?" the man inquired, his surprise evident. Naturally, my absence had rendered me an enigma to these people. A new place, new faces, and I found myself a stranger among strangers. "This is Ethan," my father introduced, placing his hand on my shoulder. "He is my beloved son."

Beloved.

Wow.

"Let's be honest," the man expressed, "your son appears exceptional, like a diamond."

I glanced down at my outfit, a simple yet sleek ensemble that my father had insisted I wear for the business party. A black shirt hugged my physique, emphasizing the hours spent at the gym to maintain a strong and fit body. The shirt was perfectly tailored, accentuating my broad shoulders and emphasizing my confident stance. Paired with black pants that clung to my legs, it created a polished and sophisticated look. But as I examined my reflection, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards the expectations that came with it.

With a small thank you, I stepped out of the conversation. I couldn't shake off the feeling of disinterest that washed over me. The room buzzed with conversations and laughter, yet they felt hollow and superficial. The air was heavy with the weight of business transactions and false pleasantries.

It was a world I was forced to navigate, tied to my father's role as the host. As I scanned the room, my gaze met the gazes of those who expected me to exude confidence and charm. But beneath the facade, I yearned for authenticity, for connections that ran deeper than social obligations and networking. Deep down, I longed for an escape, to break free from the confines of this artificial realm and discover a sense of purpose that resonated with my true self.

I couldn't help but wonder, why was all this necessary? Calling out business partners you know would backstab you anytime and pretending to be like the best buddies of all times. Everything here was a charade.

As I made my way towards the bartender, my eyes scanned the room, taking in the scene around me. And then, in an instant, my gaze landed on a sight that ignited a fire within me. There, amidst the crowd, stood the person I despised the most, shamelessly flirting with a girl who appeared visibly uncomfortable.

Anger surged through my veins as I watched their interaction unfold. The person I hated had always been a source of frustration, their actions embodying everything I found repulsive. Seeing them now, preying on someone's discomfort, intensified my disdain. It was a reminder of their disregard for others, their selfishness overshadowing any sense of decency or respect.

Though a part of me burned with the desire to confront them, I knew restraint was necessary. Engaging in a confrontation would only fuel their twisted satisfaction. So, with clenched fists and a resolve to protect the innocent, I redirected my focus, determined to find a way to ensure the girl's safety and put a scene here.

But what happened next caught me completely off guard. Despite her initial appearance of someone who might bottle up her emotions, she suddenly found the strength within to stand up for herself. The girl, in a display of unexpected courage, fiercely defended herself against the person I despised. In that moment, my admiration for her grew exponentially. I watched, enjoying the view, sipping on my wine.

Who was she?

The fight had ended, and she emerged victorious, bringing a sense of happiness to my heart. However, as she reentered the hall, I noticed a hint of fear in her eyes. It seemed like she was searching for someone, her gaze scanning the room with unease. Her arms were covered in goosebumps, as if she were watching a scary movie.

At that moment, my father approached her, accompanied by his furious business partner. The tension in the room grew, as if a storm was about to erupt. I braced myself for the clash of emotions and the consequences that would follow.

"Why would you beat him, August?" the man questioned with a stern voice, his eyes filled with disapproval. The daughter hesitated, her voice trembling as she tried to explain herself. "He... he was behaving inappropriately..."

"No matter what the reason was," the man interjected sharply, cutting her off. "Go and apologise." The weight of his command hung in the air, overshadowing any defense she might have had. I couldn't help but wonder why her own father seemed so quick to dismiss her side of the story.

At that moment, I decided to speak up, determined to bring some fairness to the situation. I looked directly at her father, hoping to convey my sincerity. "I don't believe an apology is necessary, Mr. Carter. I was right here, and I saw everything that transpired. It wasn't her fault that some random man was attempting to touch her without her consent. She was merely defending herself."

My words seemed to catch both fathers off guard, their expressions shifting from anger to curiosity as they turned their attention to me. Mr. Carter's gaze met mine, silently urging me to continue. "I witnessed the entire incident, and I can assure you, it was a clear case of self-defense. We shouldn't blame her for defending her own boundaries."

Upon hearing this, a mixture of fury and concern flickered in the fathers' eyes. "Mr. Carter, I want to apologise for this unfortunate incident occurring at the party I am hosting," my father spoke up, his voice filled with regret. "I assure you, I will take all necessary measures to ensure the man responsible is held accountable for his actions. Ethan, you know what to do."

My father's words were met with a solemn nod of agreement from Mr. Carter, acknowledging the severity of the situation. "While I share in the anger and frustration, considering it involves my daughter, but violence is never the answer, Mr. Zonas. Let us investigate this thoroughly."

As their conversation continued, a sense of relief washed over me, like a soothing balm on a wound. It was heartening to witness that my defence of her had been acknowledged and validated. Our fathers exchanged a few more words before they departed, setting off to confront the man responsible for the disturbance.

Left alone with her, a nervous energy filled the air. "Ethan," I greeted her, not forcing a smile. Her eyes met mine, but her expression remained stoic, revealing little of what lay beneath the surface. "August," she responded curtly, her tone tinged with detachment. It was clear that she wasn't interested in engaging in small talk or unnecessary pleasantries.

She turned her attention away from me, seemingly absorbed in the task of dusting off her clothes and wiping the blood off her knuckles. Her actions were confident, deliberate, as if cleansing herself of the altercation that had just occurred. I couldn't help but be captivated by her nonchalant demeanor, the way she effortlessly brushed off the intensity of the situation. "He was really weak. What a waste," she commented in a low voice, disappointment lacing her words. It was evident that she held herself to a high standard, expecting more from her adversaries.

Silence settled between us as she walked away, her strides purposeful and confident. I couldn't help but let my gaze linger, my curiosity piqued by her enigmatic nature. There was something about her, an alluring combination of strength and mystery, that drew me in. As she settled down and crossed her legs, her dress subtly sliding up, my thoughts threatened to wander into dangerous territory. But I quickly reined them in, reminding myself to remain focused on the situation at hand.

She had left an indelible impression on me.

Not just with her display of self-defense, but with her composed demeanor in the face of adversity. There was more to August than met the eye.

And I was so sure to uncover that.