As Frida stepped into the house, a wave of nostalgia swept over her.
Though the house was far grander and more opulent than the one she rembered, the interior décor was almost identical to their old ho. It was uncanny.
The familiar patterned rugs, the warm cream walls, even the faintly floral scent in the air, it all brought her back.
She could vividly recall playing with Laz in this very living room.
mories of their laughter echoed faintly in her mind: the forts they built from couch cushions, the argunts when Laz ssed with her dolls, and the quiet sniffles they shared when scolded for painting the walls with forbidden watercolors.
A small smile tugged at her lips, but her chest tightened.
It wasn’t the sa house, and yet Laurel, Laz’s stepmother,had preserved those mories as if they were frozen in ti.
The realization made Frida’s heart swell, bittersweet and aching.
Her eyes misted with unshed tears, and she turned away, pulling herself together.
She hadn’t co here expecting Laz to be around; after all, he hadn’t shown up for the past three years.
But what if he does co?
The thought made her stomach churn. How was she supposed to survive a whole week under the sa roof without losing her mind?
Desperate for a distraction, Frida wandered into the kitchen, where her mom, Evelyn, and Laurel were busy arranging ingredients. The tang of fresh herbs and a hint of lemon filled the air.
Frida cringed. "What are you doing?"
"Oh, just prepping for the chef," Laurel replied cheerfully. She looked stunning in a long, flowing backless peach dress that scread designer.
Her perfectly styled blonde hair bounced with each step, a surefire sign of an expensive salon visit.
Frida let out a breath of relief. "Oh, thank God. For a second, I thought you two were about to cook."
She chuckled nervously, rembering the one ti her mom had attempted pancakes. The results were so catastrophic that even her burnt toast tasted better than Evelyn’s coffee.
"Ha ha, very funny," Evelyn said, feigning offense. "Go shower and change; you look like you’ve been hit by a bus."
Frida laughed, shaking her head. "I forgot how petty you are, Mom."
"What? In only six months? What do they call that, Laurel? Amnesia?" Evelyn quipped, grinning as Laurel joined her in laughter.
Rolling her eyes, Frida left the kitchen.
---
In the living room, Laz’s stepbrothers were sprawled on the couches, engrossed in a video ga.
They were older than Frida and had always been in and out of the house, so they weren’t particularly close. But they’d always treated her like a kid sister.
"Well, if it isn’t Dreamy," Leon said, leaping over the back of the couch to give her a quick hug.
"What’s up, Dreamy?" Mike asked, his eyes glued to the massive screen. He didn’t even glance her way, too absorbed in the ga.
Frida’s eyes flicked between Leon and Mike, their casual postures and banter a far cry from the intensity she associated with Laz.
They were good-looking in their own way, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and effortlessly charming in their matching gray shirts and jeans.
Yet, standing there, she couldn’t help but think about how different they were from Laz.
Among the three of them, Laz had taken all the looks. Not just the looks, though, there was sothing else about him. A sharpness, a presence, a pull that had always been impossible to ignore.
She tried to brush the thought away, but it lingered. No matter how hard she tried, Laz was always there, occupying space in her mind, uninvited and relentless.
Even after three years of silence, he was the shadow she couldn’t escape.
Shaking herself free of the thought, Frida forced a smile and excused herself, but her chest tightened as walked closer.
What are you doing to , Laz?
She had to get him off her mind for good, she thought shoving a frustrating strand of hair from her face.
Frida smiled. "I’m good. What ga are you playing?" she asked, curious. It had been years since she last played anything.
"Monster Hunter Wilds," Leon replied, gesturing at the screen. "It’s Laz’s ga, but we’re trying it for the first ti. Good shit, honestly."
Frida chuckled, watching the screen. The visuals were stunning.
Monster Hunter Wilds was an open-world action RPG where players took on the role of hunters tracking down mythical creatures in breathtaking landscapes.
Each mission required strategy, from crafting weapons to setting traps, and players could team up or go solo.
On-screen, a female character sprinted through a dense jungle, her armor glinting in the dappled sunlight. She wielded sleek dual swords, dodging the fire-breath of a massive dragon-like beast.
Frida tilted her head. Sothing about the character tugged at her attention. Her brow furrowed as she leaned closer.
There was sothing off, no, sothing familiar, about the ga. Her heart skipped a beat as realization dawned.
The female character looked exactly like her.
Frida straightened, her eyes glued to the screen as her pulse quickened. "Wait... who did you say owns this ga?"
Leon glanced up briefly from the controller. "Laz. He bought it forever ago. Why?"
Her gaze snapped back to the screen. The character wasn’t just a random design. The flowing brown hair, the sharp eyes, even the way she moved, it was unmistakably her.
"You’re telling Laz designed this character?" she asked, her voice quieter now.
Leon chuckled, still focused on the ga. "Yeah. That’s the whole point, customizing your hunter. He must’ve spent hours on this one. It’s crazy detailed."
Her stomach twisted. Why would Laz spend so much ti designing a character that looked like her? They hadn’t spoken in years, and yet here she was, pixelated and hunting monsters in his ga.
She forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow even to her. "No reason," she said, stepping away from the couch.
But her mind was racing.
Why, Laz? What are you playing at?
User Comments
0 comments from readers