In His Brother's Arms

Aria's POV The dining table had a scent of cinnamon and newly prepared coffee, but my stomach was too tangled to bother. I sat at my normal spot, back kept straight, arm placed beneath the table so no one could notice the red blemish still glowing across my skin.   Aaron was sitting beside me, a silent wall of calm. He hadn't uttered many words since last night-maybe cos words would only make the tempest bloom. But I knew he was there, like he's fixed. Every time I peeked at him, his utterance was unexplainable, sculpted from quiet steel.  Mr. D'Cruz sat at the head of the table, glasses sitting low on his nose as he studied the morning paper. His presence dominated the room, though he hadn't said any words since giving the order for breakfast. Mrs. Margaret is facing me, chin raised, her every movement accurate and intentional. She hadn't glanced at me once, but the air between us was thick with judgment. The clang of silverware was the only sound until footsteps echoed down the hall. Justin showed up, freshly showered, tie well knotted, the very image of a respected husband, except I knew better now.   His gaze brushed the table before resting on me. That smirk-the one that once pleased me-expanded across his lips. He flattened into the chair opposite mine as though Noting happened last night.  "Morning, family," he said softly. Aaron's jaw curved. Mr. D'Cruz dropped his papers, his eyes sharp. "You caused a scene last night, he said plainly." Justin's smirk wavered for a second before he coated it back on. "It was a misunderstanding. Aria got emotional-"  "I wasn't emotional," I cut in, my voice soft, balanced. "I was embarrassed." The entire table went hush. Mrs. Margaret's fork stopped dead midair. Justin's eyes flickered to me, blackening.  "Aria," he said with a forced chuckle, "This isn't the right place-"  "No," I said, my tone stronger this time. "This is the right place. I've signed the papers already. I'm not backing out."   Mr. D'Cruz's face stayed unreadable, but his eyes moved to Justin. "She says she has signed. Have you?" Justin slanted back in his chair, folding his arms. "Not yet. This is a family issue. I don't feel there is a need to rush. We can settle it out privately."  "Privately?" I let out a quick, sharp laugh. "You mean secretly. Silently. So you can keep your perfect public image while wrecking me behind closed doors?"  "Aria," Mrs. Magaret cut in sharply, her first words of the morning. "You're still a D'Cruz. This isn't the right way to air our grudges." I looked at her, my rage finally leaking over. "With due respect, Mrs. D'Cruz, your son aired his grudges in the kitchen with his secretary while I was busy upstairs organizing your husband's birthday party. I think the time for consideration has passed." Her lips weakened. Aaron moved beside me, and when I peeked at him, I caught the tiniest glimmer of pride in his eyes. Justin's smirk was completely ruined now, replaced by a scowl. "You think you can humiliate me like this? In front of everyone?" "You humiliate yourself," I struck back. "I'm done cleaning up after you." He shoved back from the table suddenly, his chair shrieking across the floor. "Okay," he yelled. "You want a divorce? "You'll get it. But I won't make it easy for you." He left angrily before anyone could utter a word, leaving the table in stillness. Mrs. Margaret's spoon rattled onto her plate. "What a disgrace," she murmured before rising and stomping off. Mr. D'Cruz stayed seated, gazing at me. The mass of his gaze was almost intolerable. Then he turned and said to Aaron.  "Make sure this doesn't escalate into a scandal." He said calmly, before leaving as well. The room suddenly became too quiet, too big. I sat there glued to my chair, my pulsing still battling.  "You did a good job," Aaron uttered finally, his voice calm. I looked at him, my throat dry. "Did I? Because I perceive that I just proclaimed war." He gave me a tiny stern smile. "Yes, you did. But it was a war that needed to be proclaimed." For a split moment, neither of us moved. The burden of what had just occurred rested over us like a dark cloud. Then Cathy appeared at the doorway, holding out my phone. "Ma'am." she said reluctantly, "you have a message." I picked the phone from her, my heart dropping when I saw the notification. From an Unsaved number: You've started a war you can't finish. Watch your back. My fingers became weak. Aaron slant in closer, reading over my shoulder. His utterance hardened immediately. I panicked. "What do we do?" His eyes closed on mine, fixed and determined. "We strike back," he said plainly.   And for the first time, despite the fright twisting in my chest, I believed him.