“I can do anything,” I pleaded, the restlessness in me begging for release, because sitting idle felt unbearable.
His hand brushed my cheek. “I know.” His voice calmed, warm. “You could do anything.”
I knew my presence wasn’t much. This family had more help than they could need—staff running errands, managing clothes, documents, food, and everything else. My presence here was ornamental at best. Sometimes, I even felt like a burden.
Which was why I needed to do something.
Zioh said nothing more and gazed at me with a trembling smile. His hands slid to my back, and then he rested his head on my shoulder.
He drew a deep breath at the hollow of my neck, and I could feel the warm, damp sensation across my skin. I bit my lip to steady the emotion rushing through me. My eyes were heating up until all I could do was rest my head against his and rub slow circles on his back, offering what little comfort I could.
We stayed like that for nearly half an hour, until the ding of the lift broke the silence. Tsabinu appeared, carrying a box of drinks.
“Hot chocolate,” he said, handing us cups. Both Zioh and I thanked him, then fell back into quiet. Tsabinu sat beside Zioh, watching him carefully. Though I realised I was, too.
“How’s Mama Nadine?” Tsabinu asked, his voice trembling.
Zioh turned towards him. “She’s asleep again.” His voice was hoarse. “The medicine helps.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and I was sure there was an intensity I couldn’t explain there. I frowned, but before I could speak, Zioh looked back at me with another of his soft smiles.
“It’s New Year’s Eve tonight. Want to go down to the Thames?” His voice was gentle, almost coaxing. “We could watch the fireworks at the London Eye. Grandpa’s got ayacht moored there.” His fingers brushed my lips after I sipped the hot chocolate. “Would you like that?”
My heart skipped.
It was on my list. One of the wishes I had written down.
But now, it felt different. It felt wrong for us to go out and celebrate the new year when things were like this.
When Mama Nadine was lying sick in the room near us.
My smile slipped, and I lowered my head. I was about to shake it, to refuse Zioh’s offer, when his voice came again.
“You and Zeraiah have been gloomy lately,” he said. I lifted my gaze back to him. Truthfully, it wasn’t just us; we were all the same, weighed down and crushed by these days.
“Mum’s asleep. Likely until morning, after the medicine.” He gestured to either side of us. “And there are plenty of staff watching over her.” His tone was quiet, reassuring. “Maybe it’s best we let her rest peacefully tonight, right?”
He gave a slight shrug, still speaking in a warm voice. “You know… when I told Mum one of your wishes was to see New Year’s at the London Eye, she immediately suggested I take you on a yacht.” This time, his smile was warm, subdued. A calm that wrapped around me, making me return his smile, just as wide.
He was always thinking of us, when the one who needed care most was him. He was the one who hurt and suffered the most.
I hoped he found some peace and happiness, too, even for a moment, not only for us but for himself.
“Hm? You wanna go there?”
I held his gentle gaze and nodded. Then I turned to Tsabinu, who exhaled and nodded in agreement. “In that case,” Tsabinu murmured, “I’ll put these chocolates in the room and fetch Zeraiah.”
« -- * --»
We headed together to the private pier on Grandpa Ethan and Grandma Morag’s estate by the Thames. Zeraiah had brightened up already, chattering excitedly in the car. He told us his grandparents had spoken directly with the Port of London Authority and river operators, securing us a spot within the exclusion zone—the tightly controlled viewing area for the fireworks at the London Eye.
Zeraiah was thrilled. He told me he’d bribed someone to sneak wine and beer aboard. I shot him a sharp glare, warning him off.
This was not the time for his mischief.
Drinking? No. None of us needed that. We weren’t even of age! Zeraiah had first started tasting alcohol when he caught Zioh sipping vodka a year ago. And ever since, Zioh had carried the guilt and frustration of it, because whenever he tried to scold Zeraiah for drinking, his brother would turn that past incident into a shield. It became a vicious cycle—especially here in the UK.
Of course, neither of them would dare in Indonesia. Zeraiah always seemed to hold himself back at home, though he often failed. His antics and exhausting rebellious streak seemed to belong here, in England, where he felt… freer.
