NADIA
As I scanned the familiar faces gathered at my father's funeral, a mix of emotions swirled inside me. Some people from my neighborhood were there, dressed in black, their faces etched with pity. I hated the somber atmosphere, the pitiful looks, and the fact that I'd never get to see my dad again. The reality of his passing hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt a lump form in my throat.
My mom's emotional display was a stark contrast to her usual stoicism. She was overcome with grief, her body shaking as she clung to my father's coffin. Zeke wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she cried. He didn't try to calm her down or tell her to get up; instead, he let her grieve, understanding her pain ran deeper than ours.
I stood there, frozen, hot tears streaming down my face without making a sound. The memory of the day we took my dad to the hospital, the white sheet covering his lifeless body, still haunted me. When the coffin was lowered, Zeke gently pulled my mom away, and I held her in my arms, just as she had comforted me during my childhood nightmares.
As Zeke, Alonzo, and two other men began shoveling sand over my father's coffin, I knew he was hurting. Despite their complicated relationship, Zeke had always cherished the moments they shared as a father and son. I remembered the first time I saw Zeke cry – it wasn't at the news of our father's passing, but when he saw our father's corpse at the hospital.
The ceremony soon ended, and people began to leave, offering their condolences. Just as I pulled away from a hug, I noticed two SUVs pulling up. My brow furrowed, and Alonzo seemed to have noticed too. He signaled to the men around us, and one of them took out his phone. My pulse quickened.
"What's going on?" I asked Alonzo, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Seems like we have to get ready for yet another battle," Zeke said, pulling out two guns and handing me one. My heart sank.
"What? Our neighbors are here for God's sake. What if they—"
"We won't shoot while they're here. Our men are working on it," Zeke said, his gaze fixed on the SUVs. If looks could kill, everyone in those cars would be dead by now. I hardly ever saw my brother this enraged.
The air was electric with tension, and I knew things were about to escalate. I gripped the gun tightly, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. What was happening? Who was in those SUVs? And what did they want?
As one of our men nodded to Alonzo, he swiftly took out a gun of his own. The coast was clear, and the doors to the SUVs swung open. My eyes locked onto a stranger's face, but my breath caught in my throat when I saw who emerged from the backseat.
Elijah, dressed in all black, stepped out with an air of confidence. Behind him, Vicky followed, her thick hair straightened, also clad in black. Considering her father's recent death, she looked very composed.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Zeke demanded, his voice low and menacing. Elijah scoffed, "Can't you see? I've just arrived from my own father's funeral. Although there wasn't much to bury, considering the way he was murdered." His eyes flickered towards my mother, whose tears had dried up, and she shot back, "It's nothing he didn't deserve."
The air was electric with tension as Elijah's men raised their guns, each one pointing at different people. My blood boiled, and I yelled, "Who the hell do you think you are?!" For the first time since his arrival, Elijah's gaze met mine, and I tried to brush off the familiar feeling of being under his intense stare.
"Do I really have to get into that?" he asked, his voice laced with boredom. I pushed him, but he hardly budged. "I don't care where you came from or who you are. Get out of my sight, and make sure I never see you again." Something flickered in his eyes, but before I could decipher it, he shifted his gaze elsewhere, only to lock eyes with me again. He chuckled, and I scoffed.
"You're just like him," I spat, my anger evident. Elijah's expression turned confused, and he stepped closer, his breath hot against my skin. "You're crazy and sick, just like your father." Before he could react, Zeke's voice cut through the tension, "Touch her, and this will turn into a bloodbath." Elijah's men lowered their guns, albeit reluctantly.
My mom's words dripped with venom as she patted Vicky's shoulder, "If I were you, sweetheart, I wouldn't even be attending Vincent's funeral, considering the fact that he isn't your father." Vicky's eyes widened, and she looked at her mom, who confirmed the truth with a single glance.
The atmosphere was explosive, and I yelled, "Don't you guys have any decency? We're at a damn funeral, not a war zone. Is respect too much to ask for? This absurd two-decade-long war has gotten us nowhere. Instead, there's more bloodshed, and more blood will be spilled if this is the way we act."
Vicky's mom looked at me with a familiar gaze, one that used to comfort me. "I've always known you were the most logical out of your family, but I won't let you fool me twice." I stood firm, "Unlike you guys, I'm not playing games with anyone."
The conversation turned to a potential truce, and I suggested, "How about we make a truce?" Vicky's mom laughed, "A truce?" Her tone was incredulous. "Yes, that's what I said. What's wrong with that?" She looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
"You never told her?" she said, glancing at my mom. The atmosphere turned even more tense. "Told me what?" I asked, my eyes locked on my mom. "Honey," she said, her voice gentle, but I didn't like the direction this was heading.
"What is it, Ma? Tell me!" I demanded. "If you want the feud to end, there are only two ways it can be achieved," she said, her words hanging in the air like a challenge. "Either your brother chooses to marry Victoria or... Elijah marries you." I looked at Elijah, who seemed unfazed, but I knew I wasn't. There had to be another way, but deep down, I knew there wasn't.