Nathan And Ethan:Destined To Be

quarters, the beauty of Naples was nothing more than a distant illusion. Here, the aging buildings leaned over narrow, dimly lit alleys, their cracked facades bearing wi

s, while dust clung stubbornly to every surface. This was not a place w

as far away as another life. Now, his once-bright gaze had dulled to a weary haze, his thoughts muddled by years of loss and regret. Around him, the apartment was cluttered with remnants of a life that had come undone: stacks of unpaid bills, empty whiskey bottles scattered carelessly across the floor, an

e him something to hold onto, a brief escape from the heaviness that clung to him. In moments like these, when the world felt particularly hollow, the whi

ll but bright, resilient in a way that filled their early years with warmth and stability. Now, she was worn down, her patience stretched thin. She had stayed, through all the d

cus fixed on the bottle in his hand, fingers tracing the cool glass in a familiar rhythm. He took another slow, deliberate s

ven see what it's done to us? Or are you too far gone to care?" Her voice rose with each word, the years of pent-up frustration spilli

red, his tone defensive, his gaze fixed anywhere but on her. "You never did." His words hung

you think. I understand that this drinking has bled us dry. Every cent we had is gone because of you. Every ounce of tr

eet hers for the first time that night. "You think I wanted this?" he spat, his voice thick with a bitterness that ran deep. "You think I wanted to lose everything, to lose my mother like t

nyielding. "But I know what it's like to lose you. To watch you turn into a stranger, someone I barely recognize. I thought

hough it held some answer he couldn't find in her words. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. He knew, deep down,

g up the pieces. I can't do it anymore." Her hand darted out, fingers closing around the neck of the bottle, her eyes fierce with a determination that

nched. "Let go," he warned, his voice dangerously quiet, but she held on, matching his strength with her own. For a moment, it seemed like she might actually

here and watch." Her words hung in the air, the finality of them cutting through him like a blade. He didn't rep

pain she'd kept hidden for so long. At the door, she paused, casting one last look back at him. For a brief, silent moment, he almost turned, almos

aving a hollow silence in its wake. Raymond sat there, unmoving, his eyes fix

thin frame tense as he stood just beyond the threshold of his bedroom. He had heard every word, every argument, every moment of anger that had filled their home. He had h

er might look up, might see him standing there and say something to reassure him. But Raymond only slu

darkness pressing in around him, a stark contrast to the silence that now filled the apartment. He wrapped his arms arou

tside, the muffled hum of life carrying on beyond these walls. But for him, the worl