The Ruiz Brothers - Part 8

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「 ✦ Ongoing ✦ About me ✦ Table of Content✦ 」

Dim the lights and hold on tight—step into the chapter you didn’t know you needed and try not to get swallowed by their vortex. 
Rated MA - language, mild violence, mature themes

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This Changes Nothing

Lucian paced irritably across the living room as he swung his jacket on and fastened his dress shirt. The insistent drone of a call to Kachine echoed in the background. He huffed impatiently, distractingly adjusting his cufflinks. Not surprisingly, the woman didn't bother answering her phone. She was on her way over regardless of their prior agreement on a different co-parenting schedule for that week.

Doubling back on her word on his first date night in months was no coincidence, not after the tantrum she threw over finding his dating profile online.

'Tantrum'.

It was a fitting word for almost everything relating to her as of late—more than likely her twisted solution to keeping him from slipping away.

He came to understand how stubborn and manipulative she truly was, and willingly tolerated the chaos she had unleashed onto his life—for the sake of parental responsibility. However, using their son as a chess piece in an attempt to keep him from a social life was pushing things too far.

She may not have known what his plans were precisely for that Thursday, but it didn't matter. She wouldn't allow any of it.

She wouldn't stand for not being the center of his universe.

'Possessive'.

Yet another word that suited her to the core—when did she start caring so much?

It all seemed to stretch beyond a mere response to guilt.

He soon threw the door open onto her and Zeke.

Lucian briefly acknowledged the infant who was peacefully asleep, soothed by the car ride. He envied his son's innocence and obliviousness to the storm gathering around him.

"We agreed you would bring him tomorrow instead. What the hell, Kachine? I know you're doing this on purpose."

She barged in, confidently carrying herself through the space.

"Plans change. Zeke needs you, whether you like it or not."

She shrugged and gave him a piercing glance over her shoulder.

"Don't act like I’m the one messing things up here, Lucian."

She masterfully twisted the narrative, she had calculated every move. There was no doubt she had planned it all—every intention to sabotage this night for him, fueled by bitterness.

Anger fumed through his words as he realized boundaries may never have been the answer—how foolish of him. He was angry at himself for letting this charade go on so long, and for daring to dream of a peaceful coexistence with her.

"This is not working, Kachine," he uttered, barely holding the heat back.

"You dodging your responsibilities is not working." She echoed arrogantly.

The woman paused at the base of the staircase, briefly scanning his evening attire from head to toe. Just months ago, he would have dressed this elegantly and sharply for her—and only her. The thought of him even considering moving on stung, the pain written clearly on her face.

A frown formed as she mentally gathered ammunition to sting back with her next line.

"You think you can just shuffle Zeke around like a damn chess piece and still keep your precious little dating life intact? Grow up, Lucian."

He gave her a short, sarcastic laugh. "You've got to be kidding me!"

It was ironic to be accused of playing mind games by the mastermind herself.

"When was the last time you looked into a mirror?!"

Kachine shrugged dismissively, brushing his comment off, before moving up the stairs with Zeke.

He let out a snarl of frustration as he bit back a string of slurs. Although he maintained a semblance of control, a part of him internally screamed in exasperation. The truth was, she played him like a fiddle every chance she got, and there was nothing he could do about it—not without imposing harsher or even legal boundaries.

Everything he continued to tolerate was for the sake of his son. Even though the three of them could not become the unified front she so desperately wanted, he still wanted Zeke to grow up shielded from the toxicity swirling between his parents.

Lucian raked his hand through his hair in an attempt to calm his nerves.

He reached for his phone and dialed a number saved under 'Nadia'—the woman he was supposed to meet in the next hour, and waited for an answer. He was left with no other choice but to cancel his dinner plans.

Anger still thumped through his chest; he had to bend the knee to yet another one of her caprices—sending his son away was not an option.

Nadia's soft voice came through the line, enthusiastic—until he muttered a few apologetic words. She was already a few minutes away from the rendezvous point. Lucian would be lucky if she decided to grant him a second chance.

He kept the phone conversation brief, charming enough to ease the awkwardness. He was unaware that Kachine lingered at the top of the stairs after putting Zeke in his crib, listening.

Her hand squeezed the railing as her suspicions settled painfully.

She called out impulsively, her voice carrying deliberately over the phone.

"Lucian, babe," she said, heels clicking down the steps with conviction, fire raging in her eyes, "did I leave my bra here last time?”

Kachine waited, letting things hang in the air as Lucian choked in disbelief.

"What is WRONG with you?!" he snapped, barely catching himself before the mute button was mis-pressed.

Kachine came down, arms folded. Her tone was dripping with quiet challenge.

"Just making sure 'Nadia' knows what she’s walking into. Did you even tell her about Zeke—or me?!"

"I can't believe this!" His voice rose across the room, "Get a grip, for Christ's sake!"

He was exhausted by the constant tug of war between them.

Cussing, he realized the call was still connected—no doubt the woman had heard everything. He hung up, not caring to keep up appearances. He tossed the phone across the couch and paced the room, pointing toward the front door. His evening was supposed to be a new start, not another war zone.

"Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Kachine. You need to leave."

She stepped closer, face flushed, her tone was laced with venom. 

“Me? Jealous?!” she echoed, outraged, “please. You think I give a damn about whatever cookie-cutter girl you’re trying to impress with your pressed shirts and fake charm?”

Her voice lowered to a tense whisper as she continued to fuel chaos.

“Just admit it. No matter how far you try to pull apart, I still get under your skin.”

He looked straight at her, matching her intensity, voice steady and cutting.

He answered with the very first thing that came to mind, regardless of how raw.

"At least that 'cookie-cutter girl' wouldn't spread her legs for my brother."

Kachine’s mouth and eyes widened for half a second before her hand cracked uncontrollably and swiftly across his face.”

Hard.

Loud.

The silence that followed was deafening.

She stood there, chest rising, eyes locked on him, wild with fury yet glistening with tears because the words held the undeniable truth of their downfall.

Lucian felt the sting of his glasses’ frames biting into his skin. His cheek seared with the heat of the blow.

He scoffed lightly, almost unfazed, as he folded his glasses off. A faint smirk curled at the corner of his lips at the idea of having given her a taste of her own medicine, though the words were far from gracious.

He breathed out sharply, rubbing his jawline, he taunted in a low voice.

"Like I was saying," he paused, looking at her, he deliberately articulated a name meant to sting further,

"Nadia would never—"

Kachine’s hand shot out again before he could finish the sentence—'jealousy' was so predictable.

He caught her by the wrist before the second blow landed.

He held her there for a beat.

Lucian's grip trembled with nerves against the sheer force of her will and tenacity. His gaze was dangerously heated.

He pulled her in, barely letting go.

His voice rumbled deeply in the volatile space between them, "enough," he spelled out, decisively.

Tears started to quietly roll down her cheeks, but the stubborn woman did not waver. Her gaze remained electric.

He flinched lightly. He realized they had become so toxic that consciously hurting each other came dangerously easy.

His breath caught lightly at her vulnerability. The harsh words had landed as intended—painfully. Yet seeing her cry reminded him that somewhere, somehow, he still cared for her, as much as he hated to admit it.

Part of him still burned from everything she had put him through, but not enough to stop his grip from loosening.

Perhaps jealousy suited her chaos like a glove after all—because it also proved she cared, in her own twisted way. Maybe that was all they truly were: deranged solutions to their brokenness.

Leaning down into the fragile moment, he entertained the absurd idea that the only way out might be to give in…

Gazing into her eyes, he felt the raw pull between them bleed through their facade. Why would they continue to hide behind masks if they both apparently cared about each other? The toxic animosity of their dynamic had clouded any sense of reason.

He pulled back, blinking out of the fog, and stopped himself from spiraling further.

She slowly unraveled before him, without shying away.

"I'm so sorry, Lucian..." she whispered.

His chest tightened. She had said those words many times before, but now they felt genuine—maybe because she knew she had pushed too far. Perhaps he had too. He sighed deeply, letting go of her wrist.

"What a mess..." he whispered.

Their eyes remained on each other for a few seconds.

He might have unconsciously stolen a glance at her lips—or maybe it was the other way around. In any case, Kachine quickly closed the short gap between them, desperately driven by the fear of losing him, fueled by guilt, jealousy, and the raw proximity of his presence.

Lucian cracked under the surface, his heart skipped a beat as he jerked back without completely pushing her away—maybe because the kiss wasn't totally unexpected—or because he chose to allow it to happen.

She almost instantly stepped back, condemning her own impulse—whether it was genuine or not.

Kachine stuttered an apology, wiping her tears off.

Lucian hesitantly reached for her face, pulling her back in.

"Just shut up..." he breathed against her lips, "...you did this on purpose too."

Perhaps that kiss was a quiet apology—for his harsh words, for months of punishment, for still lacking the strength to give her the happy ending she longed for. 

Could it have been an escape into the eye of the storm itself? Whatever it represented still carried the sting of surrender—but that was simply his hubris talking— with the bittersweet hint of sadness from the saltiness of her tears.

It tasted familiar, almost comforting, but dangerous. It was like pacing the edge of an abyss, risking being swallowed whole by ghosts of the past at any given moment.

But it wasn't just a kiss.

Months of resentment, frustration, longing, loneliness, and guilt combusted in that moment, leaving no room for resistance. Only the growing crash of mouths colliding with every breath stolen remained.

Everything they had fought to control temporarily slipped through the cracks in their armor.

It was too late for him to stop the fire he had fanned, even if he wanted to. Her warmth erased reason.

And so, he took ownership of what he had unleashed.

🎬 (18+) Optional scene ahead, Viewer Discretion Advised. This scene is not necessary to the understanding of this chapter — click to continue reading on Simtales After Dark

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