Jayden drove the sleek BMW into the grandeur of the Walton mansion, the imposing gates a stark contrast to the cozy familiarity of Louisa's neighborhood. As he cut the engine, a uniformed attendant materialized to take the keys.
Stepping into the vast, marble-floored living room, the silence felt heavy despite the opulent surroundings. A nervous-looking servant approached him. "Master Jayden, your father is waiting for you in his study."
The study was a testament to Mr. Walton's power and wealth: floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes that likely remained untouched.
A massive mahogany desk dominated the room, cluttered with papers and expensive artifacts. The air hung thick with the scent of old money and cigar smoke.
As Jayden stepped inside, his father, his face a mask of cold fury, hurled a heavy crystal paperweight across the room.
It struck Jayden squarely on his left cheekbone, the sharp edge slicing through the skin, and blood immediately began to well up.
"A girl comes along, and you are suddenly distracted! You ranked tenth, Jayden! Tenth!" his father roared, his voice echoing off the wood-paneled walls.
Jayden touched the stinging cut, a small, almost sad smile playing on his lips. "'I checked your ranking, and you didn't do so bad. You ranked tenth. That's really good, considering there are a hundred students in our grade,'" he quoted Louisa's gentle words. "Why can't I hear that from my own father?"
"Nonsense! That girl is a bad influence on you. She's turning you soft!" Mr. Walton spat.
"Soft?" Jayden repeated, his voice low and strained. "I have been under a constant barrage of pressure from you my entire life. Your expectations are suffocating me… I am sick and tired of you ordering me around and demanding so much while I sacrifice any semblance of my own happiness."
"You are the heir to the Walton empire! I didn't raise you to be a simp for some… commoner!" his father countered, his face contorted with disdain.
"You wouldn't understand, though," Jayden continued, his gaze unwavering despite the blood trickling down his cheek, "because you haven't felt love before. All you understand is control and acquisition."
He paused, then added, the words heavy with resentment, "I'm even tired of bearing the Walton name."
Mr. Walton's face tightened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Don't say something you'll regret later, Jayden."
"Regret?" Jayden gave a bitter laugh. "I already regret being born into this loveless family."
A look of shock, raw and unguarded, flickered across Mr. Walton's face. He managed to stammer, "Where… where is Lily? Tell her to come home."
"If she doesn't want to come home, she must have her reasons," Jayden replied, his voice flat. "I will not be the brother who controls his sister's life, unlike someone else I know."
With that, he turned and walked towards the study door.
As he opened it, he was met by his mother, her face blotchy and wet with tears. She had been eavesdropping. Jayden simply stared at her, his expression unreadable, a strange mix of pain and detachment in his eyes. He walked past her, his movements stiff and zombie-like.
Outside, a heavy downpour had begun, the rain lashing against the windows. Jayden grabbed his car keys from the hall table and walked out into the storm, the cold rain instantly soaking his clothes, his mind a blank canvas of pain and frustration.
The first person who came to mind, a beacon of warmth in the sudden darkness, was Louisa. What was she doing right now?
Blinded by an overwhelming urge for her comfort, he instinctively headed towards the familiar streets of the Lower East Side.
He parked his BMW across from her building, the sleek black a stark contrast to the modest surroundings. He stepped out of the car, the rain plastering his hair to his forehead, the street deserted save for the relentless downpour and the dramatic flashes of lightning followed by booming thunder.
Jayden stood there, exposed to the elements, his gaze fixed on the dimly lit windows of her apartment, the sting from the cut on his cheek a dull throb beneath the cold rain.
Inside the small apartment, Louisa and her friends had retreated to her tiny bedroom, the remnants of their fashion sleepover scattered around them.
Mrs. Wren, after checking on the girls, was heading to her own room when she noticed the living room curtains weren't fully closed.
As she went to adjust them, she saw a sleek, dark car parked across the street and a figure leaning against it, the rain pouring down on him as he stared intently at their building.
A wave of fear washed over her. She quickly called Louisa.
Louisa, clad in a simple sleeveless nightgown, padded sleepily to her mother's side. "What is it, Mum? Shouldn't you be asleep?"
But when her eyes followed her mother's gaze to the figure outside, her breath hitched.
Without a word, she grabbed the umbrella by the door and ran out into the raging storm towards Jayden.
The cold rain plastered Louisa's hair to her scalp and soaked through her thin nightgown in seconds, but she barely registered the discomfort.
Her only focus was the figure leaning against the dark car across the street, his posture radiating a raw kind of despair that sent a jolt of fear through her.
"Jayden!" she called out, her voice barely audible above the drumming rain and the distant rumble of thunder.
He didn't seem to hear her at first, his gaze still fixed on her apartment building, his silhouette a dark, unmoving shape against the backdrop of the storm.
Louisa hurried across the street, the umbrella clutched tightly in her hand. As she drew closer, she saw the blood trickling down his cheek, mingling with the rain. Her heart lurched.
"Jayden, what happened?" she asked, her voice filled with alarm, reaching out to touch his arm.
He finally turned, his blue eyes, usually so vibrant, now clouded with a deep, unsettling pain. He looked at her, really looked at her, and a flicker of something akin to relief crossed his face.
"Wren," he murmured, his voice hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time. He reached out and gently touched her cheek, his fingers cold and wet.
"You're bleeding," Louisa said, her voice trembling. "What happened?"
He didn't answer immediately, his gaze searching hers, as if trying to find solace in her presence. The rain continued to pour down, creating a small, private world around them.
"My father," he finally said, the words clipped and filled with a raw anger. "He… he wasn't happy about my ranking."
Louisa's eyes widened in disbelief. "He hurt you? Over a school ranking?"
Jayden gave a short, bitter laugh. "It was never just about the ranking, Wren. It's about control. About expectations. About… everything." His voice broke slightly on the last word.
Without another word, Louisa reached out and gently took his hand, her small hand enveloping his larger, colder one.
"Come inside," she said softly but firmly, tugging him gently towards her building. "You're soaked, and you need to clean that cut."
Jayden didn't resist. He allowed her to lead him across the street, the rain washing over them, the storm mirroring the turmoil within him.
As they reached her front door, Mrs. Wren stood there, her face etched with concern, Ellie and Scarlett peering anxiously from behind her.
The sight of Jayden, bloodied and soaked, standing hand-in-hand with Louisa in the pouring rain, painted a stark picture of a world far removed from the gilded cages of the Hudson Yards.
The second term at Charterhouse had just begun, and the carefully constructed walls between their lives were beginning to crumble under the weight of unexpected emotions and harsh realities.
Mrs. Wren's eyes widened in surprise and concern as she took in Jayden's disheveled state, the blood still trickling down his cheekbone. Ellie and Scarlett gasped softly from behind her.
"Louisa, who...?" Mrs. Wren began, her voice a mixture of alarm and curiosity.
"Mum, this is Jayden," Louisa said quickly, her grip tightening on his hand. "He... he had a bit of an accident. Can he come in for a moment? It's freezing out here."
Without waiting for an answer, Louisa gently pulled Jayden into the small, warm apartment. The sudden contrast from the raging storm outside to the cozy interior, filled with the lingering scent of pizza and the faint aroma of Mrs. Wren's stew, seemed to momentarily disorient Jayden.
Ellie and Scarlett stared, wide-eyed, at the unexpected arrival. The image of the impeccably dressed "King" standing before them, soaked and bleeding, was jarring.
Mrs. Wren, ever the pragmatist, quickly took charge. "Come in, come in, child. You're drenched. Louisa, get him a towel. Ellie, Scarlett, clear some space in the living room." Her initial apprehension seemed to melt away, replaced by a motherly concern.
Louisa hurried to the small bathroom and returned with a fluffy towel. Jayden wordlessly took it, his gaze still fixed on her, a silent gratitude in his blue eyes. He began to awkwardly dab at the cut on his cheek.
"Here, let me," Louisa said softly, gently taking the towel from him. She carefully dabbed around the wound, her touch light and soothing.
The close proximity, the intimacy of the moment, seemed to create a small bubble of calm amidst the chaos.
Mrs. Wren watched them, her expression softening. She could see the genuine concern in her daughter's eyes, the unspoken connection between them.
Whatever had happened outside, it was clear that this young man meant something significant to Louisa.
"Come sit down, Jayden," Mrs. Wren said, gesturing towards the worn sofa. "Let me take a proper look at that cut."
As Jayden sat down, the three girls gathered around him, a silent circle of concern. The designer clothes from their earlier fashion show lay forgotten, the playful atmosphere replaced by a shared sense of worry.
"I apologize for the sudden intrusion, Mrs. Wren," Jayden said, his voice still a bit rough, his gaze sweeping over the modest but welcoming living room.
"And certainly not in this… state. I hadn't planned on meeting you like this."
Mrs. Wren offered a warm smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Nonsense, young man. I'm just happy to finally put a face to the person who puts that lovely smile on my daughter's face."
She gently pressed a brightly colored plaster onto his cleaned cheekbone.
"Have you eaten, dear?" she asked, her tone softening with concern.
Jayden shook his head sheepishly.
As Mrs. Wren headed towards the small kitchen, Ellie and Scarlett exchanged knowing glances with Louisa, a silent conversation passing between them.
"I'm right here, you know," Jayden said, catching their eye movements, a small, weary smile touching his lips. "Stop talking with your eyes."
"I just… I feel sorry for you," Ellie blurted out, her usual tact momentarily forgotten.
"Ellie!" Louisa snapped, a warning tone in her voice.
But Jayden simply chuckled, a genuine sound this time. "You three are acting just like my sister, Lily."
Mrs. Wren returned, carrying a tray laden with food. She placed it carefully beside Jayden on the small coffee table. "It's different from the grand cuisines you're used to, Jayden. But I hope you'll like it."
On the tray was a steaming bowl of seaweed soup, a generous portion of rice, some fried plantains, and a small plate of moi-moi.
As Jayden began to eat, a wave of emotion washed over him. The simple, home-cooked meal, offered with such genuine warmth, felt profoundly comforting.
Tears welled up in his eyes, unexpected and overwhelming. He savored each bite, the flavors so different from the meticulously prepared dishes he was accustomed to, yet somehow more nourishing.
He forced a smile, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.
"You cook really delicious meals, Mrs. Wren," he managed to say, his voice thick with emotion.
Mrs. Wren's gaze softened as she watched him. "Oh, is it? It tastes so nice it makes one cry, right?" she said gently, understanding dawning in her eyes.
Louisa sat beside him on the sofa, her own heart aching with a mixture of sympathy and a growing understanding of the emotional weight Jayden carried beneath his privileged exterior.
The storm raged on outside, but within the small apartment, amidst the simple meal and heartfelt gestures, a fragile bridge was being built between two vastly different worlds.
The warmth of the small apartment, the simple meal, and the genuine concern radiating from Louisa and her mother created a haven that Jayden hadn't realized he desperately needed.
As he finished the last spoonful of the seaweed soup, a profound sense of exhaustion washed over him, the emotional and physical toll of the day finally catching up.
"You look tired, Jayden," Mrs. Wren said gently, her eyes filled with a motherly understanding. "The storm isn't letting up. You're welcome to stay the night."
Jayden looked up, surprised by the offer. He glanced at Louisa, who offered him a small, reassuring smile.
"Thank you, Mrs. Wren," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "I… I don't want to impose."
"Nonsense," Mrs. Wren waved her hand dismissively. "It's no trouble at all. Louisa, get him some blankets."
Ellie and Scarlett exchanged excited glances. An unexpected sleepover with Jayden King was certainly not how they had envisioned their evening.
Louisa fetched some blankets and a pillow from the linen closet, her heart warming at her mother's unexpected kindness. She made a makeshift bed for Jayden on the living room sofa.
As the night wore on, the sound of the rain against the windows became a soothing lullaby. Ellie and Scarlett eventually drifted off to sleep on the floor in Louisa's room, while Louisa stayed up a little longer, sitting quietly on the armchair, watching Jayden sleep on the sofa.
His usually composed face looked vulnerable in slumber, the colored plaster a stark reminder of the pain he had endured.
Jayden stirred restlessly in his sleep, a soft groan escaping his lips. Louisa quietly got up and knelt beside the sofa. "Jayden?" she whispered softly.
His eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, he looked disoriented, his gaze unfocused.
Then, recognition dawned. "Wren," he murmured, reaching out to touch her hand.
"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
He squeezed her hand gently. "Yeah. Just… a bad dream." He paused, then his voice dropped. "Thank you, Wren. For everything. For your mum's kindness. For… being here."
Louisa squeezed his hand back. "We're here for you, Jayden."
A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the rhythmic drumming of the rain. In the small, humble living room, amidst the storm and the unspoken emotions, a fragile bond was strengthening, built on shared vulnerability and unexpected kindness.
The night held the promise of a new understanding, a quiet defiance against the rigid walls that had once separated their worlds.