Un-intended

Luca

I hadn't slept in two nights. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face. How she cried for me to stay and how I left without saying a word.

I kept telling myself I did the right thing. That anyone in my position would've reacted the same way. The papers with her signature on them had to have meant something.

I ran a hand down my face and leaned back on the couch. All the money in the world, and I couldn't figure out how to fix what I broke. That was the real joke.

I kept thinking about the moment I found those damn papers. I could still hear Viola's voice in my head, smug and vindicated. I told you, Luca. I knew she was hiding something.

My sister—half-sister, really. Born from one of my father's mistakes. A woman he should've walked away from but didn't until it was too late. Viola's mother had sunk her claws in for the money and the name. She played the long game and lost, but not before leaving a legacy of bitterness behind.

My father never spoke about her unless forced to. And my mother? She only tolerated Viola for the sake of appearances. But I tried. I tried to make room for her in my life. Believed her when she said she wanted to protect me. Trusted her when I should've questioned everything.

But she didn't know Luna. Not like I did.

That was the part I couldn't shake.

I did know Luna. And I still chose to believe the worst of her. I let fear and family pressure cloud every instinct I had. I didn't give her a chance to explain. I didn't ask questions. I accused.

Now she was out there probably hating me and I was sitting here like a damn coward, drinking my way out of taking accountability. My father would be disappointed in me.

My phone buzzed again. I didn't even look. I already knew who it wasn't.

Not Luna.

She hadn't called. Hadn't texted. No angry voice message. No demand for an apology. Nothing.

I didn't blame her.

The silence was what I deserved.

I stood up, pacing the room. The walls felt too close, the air too thin. I walked into the kitchen, stared at the fridge, then back at the couch like I expected answers to appear out of nowhere.

I want to go her and  apologize. Tell her sorry for blowing and just sit and listen, but very time I got close to picking up my keys, something held me back. Maybe it was pride. Maybe fear. Or maybe I knew that facing her would mean facing the truth:

That I might've lost the only good thing I had left.

And this time, it was nobody's fault but my own.

A knock at the door broke through the silence. I froze. My heart leapt for a second, against my better judgment.

I didn't move.

Another knock. Firmer this time.

When I finally opened the door Jordan stood with his hands in the pockets of his coat. He scanned me before slowly walking in.

"Why are you in the manor?" Jordan looked around at the house frozen in time. It was still neatly kept.

"How'd you find me?" I asked, stepping aside to let him in.

"Enid," he said simply, walking past me. "She said you hadn't shown up to the office, and I knew you'd be hiding somewhere with a fully stocked liquor cabinet. I just didn't think it would've been here."

I shut the door and leaned against it. "You could've just texted."

"Would you have answered?"

No.

He looked around the place. "Man, this is... why are you here?"

I didn't answer. Just walked back over to the couch and sat down, letting the silence fall again. Jordan followed, dropping into the chair across from me.

"So," he said. "Want to tell me why you're hiding from the woman carrying your kids?"

My eyes narrowed. "I'm not hiding."

"This is what hiding looks like."

"I don't need a lecture. Who even told you? Enid?" I crossed my arms.

"Pierce. You know their good friends." He leaned back, arms crossed. "I'm just here to remind you that you're fucking three lives."

That stung more than I expected. Jordan didn't throw low blows often. But when he did, they landed.

He let the words hang, not rushing to fill the space. Eventually, I spoke.

"She had adoption papers, Jordan," I said, staring into the dim lighting. "Real ones. Signed. Ready to go. She was going to give them away."

Jordan didn't flinch. "Is she?"

"No."

"Did you ask her why?"

I looked away.

He sighed. "I figured."

"It's not that simple." I huffed.

"It's exactly that simple, Luca." His tone softened, but it didn't lose weight. "You've been carrying so much guilt about what happened with Mom and Dad and... E—" He paused, not saying our brother's name. He didn't have to. "And I get it. I really do. But you

"I don't need therapy talk right now," I muttered.

"I'm not a therapist. I'm your brother and I'm only saying this because I've watched you shut people out for years. But this time, it's not just about you."

I exhaled sharply, scrubbing my hands over my face.

"You know what messes me up?" I said quietly. "She's having twins, Jordan. Twins. And all I can think about is us. Me and him. How we used to sit right here on this couch and play video games. How we used to fight over cereal. How he made me feel like I was never really alone."

I grabbed the bottle of scotch before pouring a glass.

"Never got to have our first drink together, like we planned." I quickly said before tossing the drink back.

Jordan's expression shifted, something in his eyes went glassy, but he blinked it away. A thing I saw him do a lot since the accident. No matter the tough facade I put on, Jordan wore a real one. He was the man of the house from a young age. He had to be tough.

Jordan understood me in ways I hadn't even begun to understand myself. After we lost our family, I went through a long stretch of silence. Words felt too heavy, too impossible. But Jordan never left. He didn't need me to speak to know what I was feeling. He sat in the quiet with me, speaking volumes without saying a word.

I remember one night, I was 13 and he was 16, I curled up on the floor of our old bedroom, staring at the ceiling with my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. Everything in me felt like it was unraveling, but I couldn't find the strength to make a sound.

Jordan walked in and sat beside me. He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't try to drag words out of me or fix it like everyone else tried. He just sat there, cross-legged, flipping through a comic book like we weren't both drowning in a house that no longer had laughter in it.

Eventually, he nudged me with his shoulder and whispered, "You're not alone, you know."

That was all.

But that night, I cried. Not loud, not ugly. Just quiet, steady tears that ran down my cheeks and soaked into the carpet. And Jordan didn't say a word about it. He just stayed.

"I look at her, and I look at that belly, and I just come back here." I looked around the house.

"Then don't run from it," Jordan said. "Don't destroy something beautiful just because it scares you."

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.

"I need to figure out why Enid gives away my location so easily. She signed an NDA." I crossed arms.

"Because I'm your brother, who you love so much." Jordan smiled.

"I love you bro." I cracked a small smile.

"That's what I said." He laughed before ruffling my hair. "Get up. Let's go get your girl."