I woke up on the couch at five in the morning, the pale gray light of dawn barely slipping through the curtains. My neck hurt from sleeping in an awkward position, and the throw blanket had somehow twisted around my legs. I was still half-dreaming when I felt someone shaking my shoulder insistently.
"Aaron. Aaron. Wake up."
I groaned softly and forced my eyes open. Caroline's blonde hair was tied in a messy ponytail, and she looked far too energetic for that hour. I blinked at her with sleepy eyes, trying to understand what was happening.
Caroline grinned. "Get up, sleepyhead. You slept on the couch yesterday. We are planning a surprise. So you have to let go of this couch. We need to move it and decorate this room."
Her excitement was almost blinding. I pushed myself up slowly and glanced over her shoulder. Steven was standing behind her, holding a box of decorations. He gave me an apologetic look and mouthed, "I'm sorry. I tried to stop her from waking you."
I let out a quiet chuckle despite my exhaustion.
Caroline crossed her arms. "Since you're laughing, that means your sleep is done. So let go of the couch, baby brother."
I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Okay."
Reluctantly, I stood up and stepped aside. Caroline and Steven immediately started pushing the couch toward the wall, their movements hurried but coordinated. The early morning silence of the house was replaced with the sound of furniture scraping lightly across the floor and Caroline's constant instructions.
"Careful with the corner!" she whispered sharply. "Steven, move it a little more to the left. No, my left!"
I rubbed my eyes and leaned against the doorway, watching them work.
"Wait," I said, my voice still thick with sleep. "What is the occasion?"
Steven shyly smiled at the question, his cheeks faintly pink.
Caroline answered before he could. "Steven is planning their first meeting anniversary. Though I did say we should celebrate the anniversary where you met your partner outside or somewhere meaningful, but he insisted on doing it at home."
Steven scratched the back of his neck, looking both nervous and proud.
"Cool," I said. "If you guys need my help, just tell me."
Caroline gave a quick nod. "K."
They began decorating the living room with soft fairy lights and pale flowers. Caroline placed candles on the coffee table with careful precision, adjusting each one until it was perfectly symmetrical. Steven hung a string of warm lights along the wall, stepping back every few seconds to examine his work.
I sat on one of the dining chairs, watching everything unfold. The house smelled faintly like vanilla from the candles Caroline had already lit for "testing the vibe," as she called it.
"Where is Dad?" I asked after a moment.
"In his study," Steven replied. "Sleeping."
Caroline froze mid-step. "Wait. Dad slept in the study?"
Steven nodded. "Yes. He was working and researching late."
"Researching what?" I asked casually.
Steven's hands paused for just a fraction of a second. It was small—almost unnoticeable—but I saw it. His posture stiffened, and a faint shadow crossed his expression.
"Some normal work," he said lightly. "You kids wouldn't understand."
Something about the way he said it felt off. Steven had known me since I was ten. He had never brushed off my questions before. My heart tightened with a strange feeling, like a quiet alarm ringing somewhere deep inside me.
While they were busy arranging flowers and arguing about where the balloons should go, I quietly stepped away. My footsteps were soft against the wooden floor as I made my way toward Dad's study.
Curiosity kills the cat.
But I couldn't help it.
The hallway felt colder than the living room. I stood in front of the study door for a second before slowly turning the knob. The door creaked faintly as I pushed it open.
Dad was asleep in his chair, his head tilted slightly to one side, glasses slipping down his nose. Papers were scattered across the desk, and the lamp cast a dim golden glow over everything.
I stepped closer, careful not to wake him.
That was when something caught my eye.
A journal lay open near his hand. It looked old—older than anything I had ever seen him use. The cover was worn and darkened with age, the edges frayed. Beside it sat a small glass bottle filled with some kind of liquid.
It wasn't water.
It wasn't beer.
It was darker. Thicker.
My heart began to pound.
I leaned in slightly, trying to peek at the pages of the journal. The handwriting looked unfamiliar—sharp and slanted. Symbols maybe. Or just messy notes.
Just as I reached a little closer, I felt someone behind me.
I jumped back, nearly knocking over a stack of papers.
Steven stood there.
"Aaron," he said quietly. "What are you doing?"
"Just… looking around," I replied.
He looked at me and then let out a slow sigh and gave me a gentle smile. "It's your dad's study. Don't come here without his permission. He might get sad."
I didn't say anything.
Steven had never stopped me from going anywhere in this house before. Not once. But this time, he was firm.
And that made the strange feeling in my chest grow stronger.
What was that liquid?
What was in that journal?
I left the study and went to my room, my thoughts restless.
Some time later, Dad woke up.
When he walked into the living room, his hair slightly messy and glasses properly adjusted now, he stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of the decorated room. The fairy lights glowed warmly, the candles flickered softly, and the flowers gave the whole place a gentle, romantic atmosphere.
Caroline was practically vibrating with excitement.
Dad's lips curved into a small smile as realization dawned on him.
Before he could say anything, Steven stepped forward and got down on one knee, holding a bouquet of flowers.
"On this day, six years ago, I met you—and I swear the world shifted in the smallest, most miraculous way…"
His voice was steady but filled with emotion. The entire room felt still, like even the air was listening.
"I did not hear music or see the sky split open; it was quieter than that. It was the way your eyes held mine as if I had always belonged there…"
I glanced at Caroline. She looked like she might cry from pride alone.
Steven continued, speaking about love in a way that felt almost unreal. About finding home in someone. About discovering a secret garden in his heart that only bloomed when Dad was near.
It was beautiful.
I could see tears forming in Dad's eyes.
When Steven finished, the silence lingered for a second before Dad stepped forward.
"Steven," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion, "that's the most beautiful speech I have ever heard. I love you too."
They kissed gently, and Caroline clapped quietly to herself, clearly proud of the decoration.
I'm pretty sure our stepdad just set Caroline's standards impossibly high.
.
.
Some time later, we decided to go out for breakfast to celebrate properly.
The restaurant was cozy and bright, filled with the comforting smell of coffee and fresh bread. We sat together, talking and laughing. Dad looked lighter somehow, happier.
After a while, I excused myself to go to the restroom.
The tiles were cool under my shoes, and the sink water ran cold against my hands as I washed them. As I reached for a paper towel, I noticed a wallet lying near the sink.
It must have fallen.
I picked it up quickly and hurried outside.
"Hey!" I called out. "Your wallet! You dropped your wallet!"
A boy a few steps ahead froze. He touched his pocket and realized it was empty. He turned around and walked toward me.
He looked about my age. Dark hair, sharp features, slightly confused expression.
As he reached for the wallet, our fingers brushed.
The moment our hands touched, he froze.
Completely.
He stared at me as if he had seen something impossible.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" I replied, taken aback.
He blinked rapidly, snapping out of whatever trance he had fallen into.
"Sorry," he said quickly. "That was extremely rude of me."
I simply nodded, unsure what to say.
He kept looking at me for a second longer than necessary, like he was trying to figure something out. Then he took the wallet and walked away without another word.
"So weird," I muttered under my breath.
I went back into the restroom, finished washing my hands properly, and returned to my seat.
But as I sat down with my family again, I couldn't shake the feeling that something strange was unfolding around me.
The journal.
The bottle.
Steven's reaction.
And now that boy.
Something was off.
And I had the unsettling feeling that whatever it was, it was the beginning.
Gosh care would definitely kill me if she heard me saying these words. She will mock me for acting like mini bonnie.