🎧 "Heaven and Back" – Chase Atlantic
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They said moving in with my mother's new husband would be a fresh start.
They just forgot to mention his son.
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Saturday mornings were supposed to feel peaceful,
but in our house, they were always too loud.
The blender was screaming, Mom was humming along to something romantic on the radio,
and the sunlight through the kitchen window looked like it was mocking me for being awake.
I stirred my cereal, half listening as Mom chatted on the phone.
Her voice had that soft, hopeful tone that only meant one thing—
she was talking to someone important.
> "Uh-huh," she said, twirling the phone cord like a teenager.
"Yes, I'll bring her tonight… She'll love you, I promise."
My spoon froze midair.
She'll love you?
When she finally hung up, she turned toward me
with that guilty-but-excited look.
> "Elira, sweetheart," she began carefully,
"I want you to get dressed. We're going to meet someone special tonight."
I blinked. "Special as in another one of this one's different kind of guy?"
She sighed but smiled anyway. "You're too cynical for eighteen."
"Experience built it," I muttered. "Just trying to save you from another heartbreak."
She didn't answer, just smiled softly—
the kind of smile people wear when they've already fallen too deep.
Maybe she deserved to feel that again.
Still, I rolled my eyes.
"Fine. But if he tries to sell you a car halfway through dinner, I'm leaving."
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By the time evening rolled around,
I'd given up on pretending not to care.
Mom picked a black dress for me—simple, fitted,
with sleeves that felt too mature for my taste.
She said it made me look graceful.
I said it made me look like I was going to a funeral.
We drove through Los Angeles
just as the sun was bleeding out behind the skyline.
The city shimmered—restless, golden, alive—
but I felt miles away from it.
When the car finally pulled up in front of Ciel Rouge,
my stomach tightened.
It was the kind of place that whispered wealth—
glass walls, velvet curtains, chandeliers dripping gold.
The name glowed in red cursive above the door.
Ciel Rouge. Red Sky.
Fitting, since the sunset behind it looked exactly like that.
Mom fixed her lipstick in the reflection of her phone.
Her hands trembled slightly.
> "Be nice, okay?" she said softly.
"He means a lot to me."
I nodded, though something in my chest felt uneasy.
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The moment we walked in, I felt eyes on us.
Not the curious kind—
the kind that stripped and judged.
And that's when I saw him.
He was seated beside an older man,
both facing our direction like they'd been waiting.
The older man stood first—tall, sharply dressed,
his smile warm and deliberate.
> "You must be Elira," he said with a faint accent.
"I've heard so much about you."
But I barely heard him.
My gaze had already found the son.
He didn't smile. Didn't move. Just stared.
Those eyes—ocean blue, glacial and endless—met mine and stayed there.
His jaw tightened
like even breathing near me was a nuisance.
> "Dante," the older man prompted. "Say hello."
He finally did.
> "Hi."
One word. Clipped. Dismissive.
Mom elbowed me lightly, forcing me to reply.
> "Hi."
Silence settled between us like fog.
---
Dinner was slow, suffocating.
The adults made small talk, pretending the tension didn't exist,
while Dante sat there like a storm waiting for an excuse to break.
> "So, Dante," Mom said at one point, her tone bright.
"College must be keeping you busy. What are you studying?"
He didn't look up.
> "Business. Nothing special."
The way he said it carried the weight of don't ask again.
Alejandro—his father—jumped in quickly, smoothing the mood.
> "My son takes after his mother. Quiet. Observant."
> "Dead mothers are a good excuse for bad manners,"
Dante muttered under his breath.
I froze.
Mom didn't catch it, but his father did.
The flicker in Alejandro's eyes told me this wasn't new.
I should've looked away.
I didn't.
There was something about him—
the cold, steady arrogance,
the way he filled silence like it was his throne.
When dessert came, his gaze met mine again.
Unflinching.
It wasn't curiosity.
It was a warning.
And I didn't understand
why I felt my pulse race anyway.
> "Everything okay?" Alejandro asked.
> "Perfect," Dante replied, eyes still locked on me.
"Just fine."
---
By the end of dinner, I couldn't get out fast enough.
Mom, of course, was glowing.
> "Isn't Alejandro wonderful?" she gushed as soon as we were inside the car.
"He's kind, gentle—he makes me feel safe."
I forced a smile, still replaying every glance,
every silence at the table.
Then Mom dropped the real bomb.
> "Alejandro asked me to marry him," she said softly.
"And I said yes."
The words hit like ice.
> "You're kidding."
She laughed nervously.
> "I know it's fast, but… I'm tired of waiting for the perfect moment, Elira.
I deserve to be happy."
I wanted to argue—
but she looked so fragile, so certain—
that I couldn't.
Instead, I stared out the window as Ciel Rouge faded behind us,
the city bleeding red and gold.
---
That night, I couldn't sleep.
The rain had started—soft at first, then steady,
drumming against the windows like a warning.
I lay there in the dark,
still in that black dress,
still feeling his eyes on me.
Ocean eyes.
Cold.
Relentless.
Beautiful.
I reached for my phone, scrolling mindlessly
until a notification slid across the screen.
Unknown Number.
> Next time, try not to stare so much.
— D.
My heart stopped.
I stared at the message for what felt like forever.
I should've deleted it. Blocked it. Laughed.
But I didn't.
Because beneath the irritation—
beneath the sharp, electric fear—
there was something else.
A spark.
A flicker I shouldn't feel.
And for one terrifying second, I wondered…
if hell had ocean eyes.
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