Second act

The sound of the ticking clock echoed faintly in the spacious living room as I got up from the couch, stretching my arms above my head to shake off the slight ache from sitting too long.

It was late, probably close to midnight, and the house was still eerily quiet. My parents hadn't returned yet, and part of me knew they probably wouldn't be back for another hour, maybe two.

They were always out, especially when Kael was with them, their perfect son, the one who could do no wrong.

I glanced over at my grandma, who was still seated on the couch, her frail frame resting against the cushions.

Her eyelids drooped slightly, but I knew she wouldn't go to bed until my parents came home. She never did. It was something she had always done waited up for them, no matter how late it got.

She used to do the same when I was younger, waiting up for me, no matter how late my shoots ran or how far I had traveled.

"Grandma," I said softly, walking over to her. "It's late. You should take your medicine and get some rest."

She waved a hand dismissively but didn't protest when I moved toward the kitchen to grab her pill bottle.

The kitchen, like the rest of the villa, was sleek and modern too perfect for my taste, really. Everything was marble and chrome, cold and impersonal, like living in a five-star hotel rather than a home.

But it was practical, at least. I found her medicine easily, poured a glass of water, and brought it back to her.

She smiled up at me, her eyes filled with warmth as she took the pill and the glass from my hands. "Thank you, my star."

I sat beside her as she swallowed the pill, her hand slightly trembling as she set the glass down on the table.

"You really don't need to wait for them, Grandma," I said softly, my voice almost pleading. "They're probably having dinner with Kael somewhere fancy. You can rest."

"I know, darling," she replied, patting my hand gently. "But I like to wait. Old habits, you know."

I couldn't argue with that. It was just the way she was always putting everyone else first. I sighed softly, leaning back on the couch. "At least let me help you get to bed. You'll be more comfortable."

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, but only if you promise to wake me if they come home soon."

I smiled at her persistence, but I knew I wouldn't be waking her up. She needed her rest, and there was no reason for her to stay up just to see my parents' brief appearance.

I helped her up from the couch, her small hand gripping mine as we walked slowly down the long hallway toward her bedroom.

Her room was cozy, a stark contrast to the rest of the villa. It was filled with little personal touches old photographs, knitted blankets, and the smell of lavender from her favorite candle.

It reminded me of simpler times, back when I was a child and she'd tuck me into bed at night, telling me stories about her own youth.

I pulled back the blankets on her bed, helping her settle in. "Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head, her eyes already closing as she rested against the pillows. "Just you being here is enough," she whispered, a tired smile tugging at her lips.

I stood by her side for a moment longer, watching as her breathing steadied and she drifted off to sleep.

My heart ached with affection for her she was the only one in this house who ever truly cared about me. The only one who saw me for more than just my career or what I could achieve.

Quietly, I slipped out of the room and headed back to the living room. The silence in the villa was oppressive now, wrapping around me like a thick blanket. I sank back onto the couch, the leather cool against my skin, and pulled out my phone.

Notifications flooded the screen mentions from tonight's awards ceremony, people tagging me in posts, articles congratulating me on the win.

I scrolled through them with mild interest but felt no real satisfaction. It wasn't like these things mattered in the grand scheme of things. 

Fame was fleeting. I knew that better than anyone.

I kept scrolling, my thumb moving automatically across the screen until I came across a post that caught my eye. It was Layla.

She had posted something from tonight, a picture of herself in that stunning gown, looking radiant with a wide smile on her face. But what really caught my attention were the pictures that followed her with her family, laughing and celebrating, surrounded by love and warmth.

There was something about the way they all looked at her, the genuine joy in their eyes, that made me pause.

Family. Real family.

I didn't even realize how long I had been staring at her profile, clicking through the pictures, taking in the snapshots of her life. Happy moments, candid smiles. It was the kind of life I had always wanted but never quite had.

Sure, I had success. I had money. I had recognition. But when was the last time I felt like I truly belonged? Like I was part of something bigger than myself?

A sharp pang of nostalgia hit me, though I wasn't entirely sure what I was nostalgic for. Something I never really had, maybe.

I let out a bitter laugh and tossed my phone onto the couch beside me, rubbing a hand over my face.

It was stupid to get caught up in these feelings. There was no point in dwelling on what couldn't be changed.

Time passed without me even noticing. The house remained silent until the unmistakable sound of the front door creaking open snapped me out of my thoughts.

I looked up, watching as my parents and Kael walked in, their conversation soft but clear enough for me to hear.

"Oh, Kael saved someone's life tonight," my mother's voice carried through the hall, filled with pride.

I glanced over at them from the living room, but neither of them looked my way. My father clapped Kael on the back, beaming with pride, while my mother hovered close to him, hanging on his every word as he explained what had happened.

They hadn't even acknowledged me.

Of course. Why would they? Kael was the hero, the doctor, the perfect son. They didn't care that I had just won an award, that I had achieved something huge in my own right. To them, I was just Zaya, their model daughter who wasn't quite as important as their doctor son.

I clenched my jaw, the familiar bitterness rising in my chest as I watched them disappear down the hallway, still talking about Kael's latest achievement. Not a single word to me. Not even a glance. 

"Your brother saved someone's life tonight," my father had said. As if that was all that mattered.

I stood up abruptly, unable to stand being in the same space as them any longer. The air felt thick, suffocating, and all I wanted was to escape it.

I made my way upstairs to my room, shutting the door behind me with more force than necessary. The familiar silence of my room greeted me, and for a moment, I just stood there, my chest heaving with frustration.

I needed to calm down. To shake off this feeling. 

I headed to the bathroom, stripping off my clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water pounded against my skin, washing away the tension in my muscles, but it did little to ease the knot in my chest.

I stayed under the spray longer than I needed to, letting the heat soak into me, trying to drown out the thoughts swirling in my mind.

When I finally stepped out, I felt numb emotionally drained. I wrapped a towel around myself and padded over to the bed, collapsing onto the soft mattress.

My phone buzzed again, probably more notifications from tonight, but I didn't bother checking it. 

I didn't care. Not anymore.

As I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, the only thought that kept echoing in my mind was how desperately I wished things were different. How I wished I could feel like I mattered to them.

But I knew that wish was a pointless one.