Chapter 6
Gideon slammed the front door behind him, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned pale. He stormed into the living room where his younger brother, Jephta, sat cross-legged on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a blank expression, pretending like nothing had happened.
"You've got some nerve!" Gideon barked, striding toward him. "How dare you just sit there like you didn't ruin Cynthia's entire day? She called and told me everything and how you made it worse"
Jephta looked up, blinking. "What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about," Gideon growled. "You ran your mouth to Caleb about Cynthia's feelings! You exposed her vulnerability just for the fun of it, and guess what? His mother humiliated her in front of everyone. She slapped her! She threw her gift away like trash, Cynthia told me everything on the phone while she cried helplessly in her room, Jephta!"
Jephta stood, annoyed. "Look, I didn't tell Caleb anything she didn't already make obvious. I just gave him a little punch—"
"A punch?! You call that a punch? "
"You act like she's made of glass!"
Gideon lunged. "Say one more thing, and I swear—!"
Before Jephta could brace himself, Gideon shoved him hard in the chest. Jephta stumbled back, then charged forward, tackling Gideon as the two crashed into the coffee table, scattering popcorn everywhere.
"You're such a self-righteous jerk!" Jephta yelled.
"You're a reckless idiot who talks too much!" Gideon barked back.
Punches flew. Furniture scraped. Their father's voice bellowed from the hallway, but neither brother stopped.
It wasn't until a deep, thunderous "Enough!" shook the walls that both boys froze, breathing heavily, bruised, and panting.
Their father, tall and authoritative, stood between them with furious eyes and a disappointed frown. "Is this what I raised? Two grown boys fighting like street dogs? Over what?"
Cynthia stood quietly by the door, her eyes wide and red from the earlier humiliation. "It's not their fault," she said, her voice shaking but firm. "It's mine."
Gideon and Jephta looked at her, stunned.
"I need to explain," she continued, stepping forward.
She told them everything—how she had saved up for months to buy Caleb a gift he would actually treasure. How she felt hopeful when Caleb invited her, even though she suspected it might be a trap. How Caleb's mother, with venom in her voice, had slapped her, mocked her, and tossed her gift to the floor like filth. How the entire room had stared, and how Dreaster smirked like it was all entertainment.
"And Caleb…" she added softly, "he just stood there. He didn't say anything. He didn't stop his mum."
Gideon clenched his jaw. "That bastard."
Their father exhaled deeply, rubbing his temples. "I'm sorry you went through that, Cynthia. But fighting each other won't fix it. Jephta, you owe your sister an apology."
Jephta sighed, his ego still bruised, but his heart softened. "I'm sorry. I should've never said anything to Caleb. I didn't think it would go that far."
Cynthia nodded slowly, accepting. But her smile didn't return—not yet.
Later that evening, Gideon gently knocked on Cynthia's bedroom door. She was curled up on her bed, staring blankly at the wall.
"Hey," he said softly. "I thought I'd check on you."
She didn't answer, but she didn't turn him away either.
"You know," he said, sitting beside her, "you're strong. What Caleb's mum did was cruel. But it doesn't define who you are. You've always been better than people like them. And you've still got us."
Cynthia's lip trembled as tears welled in her eyes. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Thank you for defending me, even when I wasn't there to ask."
"I'll always defend you," Gideon replied. "That's what family's for."
Just then, her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen.
Caleb Andrews – Calling…
Again.
And again.
And again.
She turned the phone face down. "I'm not picking," she muttered.
Gideon chuckled. "That boy has guts."
"Or guilt," she said, bitterly.
The calls kept coming. The next morning, Cynthia ignored seven more missed calls from Caleb. She didn't want to hear excuses or apologies—not yet.
But by noon, a knock at the door shook the tension in the house.
Cynthia peeked from behind the curtain—and her heart skipped.
Caleb.
Before she could react, Jephta swung the door open.
"You've got some nerve showing up here," Jephta said, stepping out and blocking the doorway.
"I need to talk to Cynthia," Caleb said, looking worn and agitated.
"She doesn't want to talk to you."
"That's not your call."
"She's my sister. I'll protect her if I have to. Especially from a jerk like you and your toxic family"
"You're not protecting her—you're suffocating her!" Caleb snapped.
And just like that, fists flew again.
Cynthia rushed out as Caleb shoved Jephta back. "Stop it! Both of you!" she screamed, her voice cracking through the fight like lightning.
Jephta froze. Caleb lowered his fists, breathing hard.
She stepped between them, trembling with anger and exhaustion. "I am not a trophy you two need to fight over. I'm not some broken girl that needs rescuing. I've had enough!"
She turned to Caleb. "You want to talk? Talk. But no more drama. No more fights. I don't need another war at my doorstep."
Caleb looked genuinely hurt. "I didn't know what my mum planned. I was as shocked as you were."
"But you said nothing," Cynthia replied, her voice laced with hurt. "You watched her hit me. You watched her humiliate me."
"I froze, okay? I was scared of standing up to her. She controls everything. But I shouldn't have been silent—I know that now. What could I possibly have done? hit her back?"
Silence fell.
Cynthia sighed. "I'll listen. But not today. I need time to breathe."
Caleb nodded, eyes downcast. "Fair enough."
As he walked away, Cynthia turned to her brothers. "No more fights. I need peace, not pity."
And as the door closed again, Cynthia looked up at the sky, wondering what tomorrow would bring—justice, healing… or more heartbreak?