The evening Drake's Mom birthday celebration event.
The evening air was warm and lively, the soft sound of music and chatter spilling out from the grand celebration hall. Decorative lights twinkled across the entrance, and the place was filled with laughter, warmth, and familiar faces.
Drake stepped out of his car, dressed in a dark suit that matched the night sky, his presence sharp and commanding even without effort. He adjusted his sleeves slightly and began walking towards the hall with his usual composed stride.
Before he could even reach the entrance, Ryle appeared beside him, walking in step.
Ryle: "Wow, you actually came. I was betting you'd show up halfway through the cake cutting."
Drake didn't respond right away, just glanced at him with a deadpan expression.
Drake: "It's her birthday. I'm not that heartless."
Ryle: "Mmm, debatable," he teased with a grin. "Come on, everyone's inside. She'll be shocked to see you."
Drake sighed lightly, hands in pockets as they neared the entrance, bracing himself—not just for the party, but for the familiar stares, small talk, and memories he didn't want to face tonight.
Drake's eyes locked onto his mom across the room—she was laughing, surrounded by guests, her smile wide and genuine. For a second, he just stood there, quietly watching. Despite everything, there was still something grounding about seeing her like that.
She noticed him almost instantly, her laughter faltering as her eyes softened with surprise. She excused herself from the group and walked toward him, her expression unreadable.
Mom: "I didn't expect you."
She paused, then added with a touch of emotion,
"Anyway, thanks for showing up yourself. Forget the past and talk to your dad, okay?"
Drake didn't say anything back. He just gave her a small nod—enough to acknowledge her words, but not enough to reveal what he was feeling.
Without another word, he turned and walked toward his father, who was in the middle of a conversation with some old colleagues, laughing, talking, business stuff.
Drake: "Dad."
Slowly, Mr. Damon turned toward the voice. His expression shifted—caught somewhere between pride, guilt, and hesitation. He excused himself from the group he was with and walked up to Drake. For a moment, the air between them felt heavy, and neither said a word.
Mr. Damon: "After a long time… Why did you run from me, Drake? Did I do anything to you?"
Drake's jaw tightened. His voice was calm but firm.
Drake: "Dad, didn't you say you don't want to see me?"
Mr. Damon sighed, running a hand through his greying hair.
Mr. Damon: "Drake… that was a long time ago. You were eighteen. I was angry—furious, even. I didn't mean it like that. I just…"
Drake cut him off gently, not wanting to dig too deep—not here, not now.
Drake: "Dad… it's Mom's birthday. We're here to celebrate, okay?"
Mr. Damon nodded slowly, guilt still lingering in his eyes.
Both stood there in silence again, the past resting quietly between them—for now.
The lights dimmed gently, and a soft melody began playing in the background. A giant white and gold cake stood at the center of the room, elegantly decorated with fresh roses and glittering candles. Everyone gathered around it, smiling, clapping, phones ready for pictures.
Mrs. Damon stood at the front, beaming with joy as guests wished her and the family surrounded her warmly. Laughter and soft conversations echoed through the hall.
Drake stood a little away from the crowd, just beside the group, but not really part of it. His posture was straight, hands tucked into his pockets, wearing a polite smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He looked like a guest, not a son. Like someone watching from the outside, trying to belong but not knowing how.
His eyes flicked between his mom, his dad, his brother, and the cheerful guests—he didn't move forward, didn't clap too much, didn't say anything. Just watched quietly, like a memory standing still in a moving crowd.
The cake cutting had ended, laughter fading as guests slowly began to leave, thanking Mrs. Damon and Mr. Damon for the lovely evening. The hall started to grow quieter, footsteps echoing softly as people made their way out, hugging, smiling, and exchanging goodbyes.
Drake, without a word to anyone, had already walked out. His footsteps were steady, his face unreadable. He got into his car, started the engine, and drove off into the night. No one stopped him. No one called after him. Just like always, he left silently.
Back in the hall, Mrs. Damon stood near the entrance, graciously seeing off the remaining guests, a calm smile on her face. She waved politely, shared a few kind words, then turned and looked around.
She spotted her younger son nearby. "Ryle, where is your brother?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes searching.
Ryle scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Actually, Mom… I don't know. I didn't even see him during the cake cutting."
Mrs. Damon let out a soft breath, her smile tightening. "Of course he left," she said quietly, half to herself. "I know him."
She turned away slowly, her expression unreadable now—something between disappointment and acceptance lingering in
Her eyes.
Drake was driving through the quiet city streets, lost in his thoughts, the faint hum of the engine the only sound in the car. The night air was calm, streetlights casting long golden streaks across the windshield. His mind still lingered on the celebration, the awkward smiles, and unspoken words.
Then suddenly—his eyes caught something. Someone.
He pressed the brake slowly, the car coming to a halt. Squinting through the window, he saw a familiar figure walking along the pavement, heading towards a nearby hotel. Caleb.
And Caleb wasn't alone. A girl was beside him, her steps light, head slightly tilted as if listening to him speak. Drake's brows furrowed. Curiosity sparked.
He quickly pulled into the hotel parking lot, stepping out without turning off the engine. As he entered the lobby, the cool air-conditioned breeze brushed against his face. He scanned the space quietly.
There—Caleb, standing near the reception, phone in hand, talking to someone. His expression serious.
On the couch beside him sat the girl.
But her back was to Drake. He couldn't see her face.
His steps slowed.
Drake took a deep breath and walked toward Caleb, trying to appear casual.
Drake: "Heyy, Caleb?"
Caleb turned around mid-call, his phone pressed to his ear. But when he saw who it was, his eyes lit up in surprise. Without a word, he slipped the phone into his pocket and stepped forward.
Caleb: "Oh hey, man! After a long time, right?"
They pulled into a friendly hug, a mix of relief and nostalgia in their gestures.
Caleb: "I tried a lot to contact you, but you're always so busy. And that one day I finally got through—you rejected the call."
Drake: (a little sheepish) "Oh, sorry... I didn't know it was you, real—"
Caleb: (cutting him off with a grin) "It's okay. We've met now—that's what matters."
He glanced back over his shoulder.
Caleb: "Ah, right. I need to introduce you to someone."
He turned toward the girl sitting on the couch.
Caleb: "Hey, come on—I'll introduce my friend."
The girl stood and turned around, a soft smile on her lips.
And Drake froze.