As a kid, I used to blithely look at the night sky, impressively dark, magnificently swarmed with countless scintillating stars, constellations or even nameless asterisms. I often envied them, for how bright and outlying they are.

The telescope still must be somewhere in the house, maybe in the junk room. It was a gift from dad on my 5th year's birthday. I was old and smart enough to understand the stellar designation, and there wasn't a day when I wasn't up till late to observe things happening up in the sky, with or without dad, and after a few years it didn't really matter, 'cause I was used to dad not being around the house.

He was the only one that I had ever known as my family. He never really talked about others except for my mother. When he spoke of her, his dark blue eyes used to show a brew of variety of emotions, including joy and blue at the same time, and even sometimes anger too. I knew, his mind was in an internal turmoil, and he tried hard to hide this, but not hard enough to deceive his own daughter.

But look at the irony! He'd already got me fooled, and so impeccably that had it not been for Eric, I would've always remained in the dark, probably resenting myself and my poor fate.

Growing up as an only child without a mother is never easy. Whenever I was caught up in an eerie hollowness, he dragged me out of it and tried to comfort me, so that I had no more bad dreams.

No matter how much of a shrewd and astute person he was in the business world, but to me, he will always remain as my savior, my friend, my teacher- all at the same time.

He taught me about the stars and how to see them using the scope, or maybe how to become one itself, and maybe that's why I started dreaming big.

Again he was the one who told me about the robots, and how they overpowered the entire world, little by little and got into the governing system. He embedded the nub of hatred, deep inside my heart, towards the social disparity brought about by the bots.

He has always been a rebel one. There's always been this fire in his eyes, which I always admired. His spitfire has influenced me at the very best way and I had always harbored them attentively, here deep inside me, and I'm proud of that.

As far as I knew, he had been a nimble activist for the 𝚁𝙴𝙳 𝚁𝙴𝙱𝙴𝙻𝚂 for years since his youth, before mother and before he got into business.
But what I don't understand, is how he got involved with 𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙾𝙽 and got himself killed.

I was fine with everything, even when he got married for the second time, tried to give out mother's place to another woman who already had two kids, even when I happened to know that she despised me to core...I was just fine, despite knowing everything.

I thought, at least, she loved dad for real, but she's Tiffany Princeton after all and she's no good.

She was the only heir to Princeton HighTech Corporation, a widower of former Senator, Frank Mills, who left his two daughters with her. She was still young, a sole owner of one of the biggest fortunes ever, so her family offered a contractual marriage with dad, to form an ally between two big companies to hike up the profit. Maybe that wasn't the least, but that's all I know.

Though the moment she set eyes on me, I knew right away that she was all pretentious, but I accepted, 'cause dad was happy, and he thought, I would be finally happy to have some mother figure in my life, but the fact is...I wasn't.

I was just fine with everything. But now when I get to know about everything, I just can't be okay with that. I can't sit back and play victim. I want to know why he again got involved with the rebel group, why he lied to me...even when I asked .....and everything, from the beginning.

So I can't just be fine now.

And the only person who can help me, is standing right in front of me, looking guilty, burning with conscience, for abandoning and leaving me clueless for so many years.

Without even knowing, a sob escapes my mouth inadvertently, and I realize, I was crying for a while, and then with an intense rush of adrenaline, I break into hysterics. Those loud sobs resonate all around the lonely hall, altogether releasing the pain of all those sufferings that I have ignored proudly for years.

I fall onto my knees, allowing my emotions and impulse to take over my body. I hide my face in both hands, as tears fall off adamantly.

I can't remember the last time, when I cried so loud. I didn't...even when dad died. I guess, it's because I was so angry with him and that anger turned into a huge self-esteem.

A dazzling source of light reaches out through the kitchen's glass wall, giving a cue to an ear-piercing thunder, which follows closely, and just like that it starts showering heavily.

My sob gets louder with the pitter-patter of the rain outside. And at that moment, it feels like...I was heaving all the burdens off my chest. I feel relieved. Of what....I don't even know. Neither do I care.

All of a sudden, two sturdy arms entrapped me into a tight embrace, asking for an impromptu surrender, and I give in reluctantly, clutching onto those arms firmly. One of them caresses my back lightly, and just like that, my hysterics get even more louder, matching with the thunder outside.

*****

I didn't get a hold on time, so I'm not sure, how long I stayed like that way. But then, when I open my eyes and look around, I find myself on the loungey couch in the living hall, and a warm trench coat all over me.

A few dim yellow lights are glowing softly in the distant ceiling of the hall; not too bright to cause any strain or pricking. A mild misty smell of espresso and milk fills in my smell buds, brewed with a little burn smell.

Putting the coat aside, I sit up slowly, swing my feet out to feel the glass beneath me and stare at the faint dancing figure on the wall.

"How childish!" I scoff at that. "Stupid punk!"

'One more cup of coffee' has been playing on the gramophone for all this while and someone is coarse singing along with the lyrics.

I put my hands up to cover my ears. "Jeez ! That guy still doesn't know how to sing!"

Standing up like that, I foot it fast over towards the kitchen, only to get bumped with the tray, Eric was carrying along over to me, with two cups of hot cappuccino on it. I flinch at once as the hot liquor gets a little spilled over my chest, then look pitifully at the huge stain, the liquor left on the front of my white tee and tug it away from my skin.

"Look what you did!" Eric screeches, before I could say anything. "You ruined my artwork!!"

Looking up at him, totally gobsmacked, I give out a little sneer and then scoff at how he turn the tables around.

"Artwork, my foot!" I remark scornfully.

"What!!!" He scoffs incredulously. "Listen here, girl! I spent 30 minutes, over making this stupidly complex thing. I couldn't have to put up with so much fuss, but I did. Carefully and patiently, so that I don't mess it up. Yet I feel like I don't even sense a quarter bit of gratitude for..."

I chuckle tightly, amazed by his stupidity. "What should I be thankful for?" I look at him mockingly. "Plus you must have burned down the whole kitchen by now."

"Hey!!!" He objects. "I only burned the milk...but only a bit, not the whole kitchen. You know, I always do that."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. But you certainly burned my skin and ruined my tee." I tug out the stained part, so that he can have a better view at it. "See?"

"Now tell me about gratitude."

He looks away, while scratching his nape, probably rummaging through to come up with some answer.

"That wasn't intentional. You came across like a crazy pug, out of nowhere and stomped on my foot. I'm the innocent one here," he relates.

I scoff off his explanation. "What did you say? Crazy pug, huh?" I stride closer to him.

"Do you have a death wish?" I step more into his space, but still he doesn't budge even an inch. Instead his dark eyes bore into mine, with some unfamiliar unsaid emotion, I'm having trouble to figure out.

I get a fistful of his collar in one hand, startling him and making the cappuccino spill a little bit more.

"But you know what? I'm too worn out to beat the hell outta you. Come next time, and I promise, I'll make sure, you at least spend a couple of weeks lying in shitty hospital gown, surrounded with the reek of pee and poop. You get it?"

"Woah, woah, girl! Easy there," he tries to reason, while making me loose my fist off his collar. "Okay, okay. All good. No prob."

"Glad to know," I reply hastily, before turning on my heels to leave.

"I made it..." His voice makes me to halt. "...because you loved it. You always have."

I turn around with a straight face. "Yes, right. I loved it. Past tense. Not anymore. You just made my work harder, and nothing else."

His face drops as soon as those words left my lips. "I guess, I wasted the milk too much.... And time too...over nothing."

"Yes ! Isn't that obvious?"

He forcibly puts on a smile and looks at me. "Don't worry. I'll just pour it down the sink."

God! That pretentious jerk!

"Wait!" My voice stops him on way. "Don't smile like that way. Someone might mistake you for a PBA patient. Ugh! It's annoying."

"An-and leave it there, over the desk." I points out towards the desk in front of the wall TV screen.

I look away immediately. Out of the corner of the eyes, I catch a glimpse of him smiling sheepishly and placing the tray over where I asked to.

"Let's talk after I clean it off," I finish off hastily before leaving him standing there alone.

*****

By the time, I came down the stairs, I find him staring at the Princetons' family photo, which he might have picked up from the desk in front of the TV. I can see him, half turned towards me, his eyes fixed on the photo in his hands. He mustn't have realized that I'm standing afar, watching him intently.

Using this interlude properly, I take a close note of him. He has grown so much. Everything about him screams vigor and sheer masculinity. I can't believe that the guy who's standing in front of me, is not a boy anymore, but a man. His physique, his face and even his attitude have evolved over all these years.

Three day old stubble has made his face more matured and manly. He has grown his hair much longer than before, though I must say it suits him. The crease in between his brows is still the same; weird yet firm. His charcoal eyes, sharp jawline, higher cheekbones--all have complimented his face to be more defined.

God! I missed this jerk !

Now that he's right in front of me, it feels too surreal to be true.

I clear my throat as I step down the last step of the glass stairs, making a cue for him to stop his scrutiny. He looks up at me, but the frown in between his brows remain intact.

"So they still treat you like shit?" he asks while putting the frame back to its place.

I shrug off. "When they hasn't? First it was shit, and now it's bullshit. Doesn't make any difference."

He growls at that, but says nothing.

"Besides, we are not here to chit-chat over the tedious household drama. Say the actual deal."

"Aren't you tired of all these? Hold on....you know what? Let's forget about revenge, plot and all. Let's just run away from everything and live together. I have connections..."

"Christhoff..."

"...hideouts, cover-ups..."

"Christhoff..."

"...And I'll make sure, nobody can get to..."

"Eric!!!"

My sudden outburst might have startled him to such an extent that he stops talking right away.

"You know," I start talking calmly. "I'm so tired and sick of everything right now on my plate. It's too much to handle."

Sneaking a glance at him, I sit on the couch comfortably, before speaking again.

"Five years ago, when dad died and you went off sight, it was like going through hell being alive all along. I suffered everyday and struggled to fit inside the situation I was put into. And I did what I could only do. Acceptance," I try to reason, while looking at him so that my eyes stay honest to my words.

"Honestly speaking, I didn't have much hope to see you again. Now it feels really good to have you around. And after knowing everything, I can feel the hunger again and I won't let it eat me up. Rather I will let it wreck those bastards!"

"Oh! You just not swore like a chic!"

"No kidding, jerk. You get me, right?"

After a quiet pause, he answers back, "Yes! Yes, I do, Elly. I promise, no matter whatever you do, you'll always have me by your side."

I fold my arms neatly and a notorious smirk tugs up to the corner of my lips, as I lean onto the couch. "Like a crazy pug?"

He scoffs. "You wish!"

"By the way, how come I heard a gramophone playing here, inside this house? I can't recall dad having any. And Princetons don't like vintage stuff. So mind to enlighten?"

"It's not a gramophone. It's dad's Vinyl. I carry it along wherever I go. Thanks to Quarker, I can shrink things up however I want," he explains nonchalantly.

"Ugh! Why people name things with stupid names?" I exasperates out of nowhere, as I recall certain someone calling me 'Quark'.

"Woah!" He sounds clueless. Damn! Me and my stupid temper!

"What's with the temper fit?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"No way," he reasons skeptically. "Tell me what's cooking up inside that pretty little head of yours?"

"How did you get in here? You never mentioned."

He sighs gravely before plopping himself down on the couch, facing me while resting his elbow on the headrest.

"You ain't gonna drop it, huh?"

I pretend to think deeply by changing my postures several times before finally giving him a straight no with a straight face. "No!!"

He sighs again.

What's with him and all these sighs!

"You know, it wasn't that piece of a cake to dupe the tight security and avoid the surveillance cams, drones and bot insects and all at each and every corner of this city. Contacting you was like giving in to death trap. But still I tried. All these times I failed due to bad timing. It was like launching a spacecraft," he pauses and laughs to himself.

"Then I decided to meet you in person. It was risky, but you see, it worth it." He gives me a small smile.

"I used Fullerene Dust to cover my tracks, scent and even any DNA prints of mine. You know, those bastard bot hounds, right? It wasn't easy to fool them. The dust only works for 21 minutes, so one miss of shot, and you are already...so dead." He scoffs at that point, which I don't bother to reciprocate.

"I guess, that's not what I asked."

"Geez! Why are you so impatient? Let me finish!" Eric growls.

"Yeah, whatever," I reply nonchalantly.

"Instead of talking, let me show you something. I guess this will explain."

He takes a small scrambled triangular Rubik's cube out of his bag.

Woah! I haven't noticed that before.

He rummage through his bag for something else. I take this chance to snatch the cube out of his grasp.

"Hey!!" He objects. "Why do you always touch people's things without permission?"

I look up to glare down at him while solving the cube. "You're telling me something?"

"I mean...I uh...use the screen. It'll be a lot easier to solve," he replies nervously.

"No need. I'm alone sufficient."

After a couple of minutes, I hand him down the solved cube, a victorious smile crosses my lips as I wiggle my brows at him. "Who keeps the scramble so simple?"

He scoffs and press the mid cube on the base of the biggest plane of the triangle. I guess, he gave his fingerprints there.

Straight away other pieces starts to dismantle by itself, revealing a small rectangular black shiny thing from inside. Eric takes it out discreetly.

Then without any notice, he grabs my hand firmly. "Hey!" I protest, and try to wriggle my hand out of his.

"Shh! Stay quiet," he growls and places it on my wrist.

"Ouch!" I groan as a sharp pin gets inserted right where Eric placed the thing.

"It's just analyzing your DNA, so stop complaining," Eric answers for the unsaid query of mine.

And just like that, it changes color in front of my eyes, turns into a cream colored band as both straps tie around my wrist firmly.

I guess, I know what it is. I have seen it before.

Eric presses a button on the head, and it again turns into black, reminiscing a simple smart watch.

Woah! That's quite of a show!

"It's called..."

"..Directioner." I finish off his lines, taking him by surprise. "But how did you get that?"

"How did you know that?"

"Know what?" I ask as I take my hand out of his hold.

"It's name."

"Dad had one. He showed me once how to use it. But never knew it can be posed as a smartwatch," I reply.

"No way!" He looks at me incredulously.

"By the way, isn't that illegal?"

"Do I look like a decent man to you?" Eric scoffs as he leans back on the couch.

"Pretty much."

He scoffs again. "I've always known you were crazy, but never knew that you already have lost the last piece of your sanity."

"What's the difference?" I roll my eyes at his stupidity.

"There's always a difference," Eric announces after clearing his throat.

"Ohhhhh! Really? Enlighten me."

"What's the time now?" He starts looking around him, and stops when his eyes fall on the screen-clock. "It's already 2. Don't you think we're running out of time?"

I roll my eyes again. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You and your dumb talks. BTW dumber! You have a watch right here on your hand, you know right? Why bother with all the neck exercises?"

"I don't understand what you get insulting me?"

"Pleasure!" I exclaim after straightening my back.

"Sure you do." he scoffs.

"Anyway, tell me 'bout the Directioner."

"Ah yes!"

Eric grabs his bag and takes out a small black box, as he asks, "Does it hurt anymore?"

"Huh?"

He goes on punching some password on the box. "The pin, that made you feel like the first time."

"Pervert! NO!"

"Glad to hear," he chuckles, while opening the box. He takes out a tiny-colorless-jelly-like device and out of nowhere, he put it in my ear.

"Woah! Woah! Hey! What do you think you are doing?"

"Just shut up already," he scowls. And that literally shut me up.

Taking my hand in his, he instructs, "Now think out something you wanna ask or do."

And then before I knew it, I punched Eric in the face so hard that even my hand hurts. "Ow!"

"Fuck!" He groans in pain, leaning against the couch and covering his nose. "What were you even thinking? It's not a child's play, that you can toy around."

I cover my face as well. I am indeed gobsmacked. I actually thought of punching him. But it literally happened. And my hand... Oh yes!!! It hurts bad.

"Do I look like a punching bag to you?" Eric growls, grimacing his face. "Did you really think of punching me?"

"Yeah," I answer giddily.

"Fuck!" Eric rolls down on the couch. "Fuck! Give me some ice. Damn it!"

"Yeah!! Wait." I fumble out of the couch and return with the ice blob jar in hand as fast as I can. "Yeah, take this." I hand him down one blob, opening the jar. He snatches it out of my hand and places it over his nose, that has been