Page 43 of Baran
Baran hesitated, unsure of how to respond. “You…don’t have to do that,” he mumbled.
“Nonsense,” Miss Charlotte replied, already bustling toward the kitchen. “You’ve had a long night, and it’s the least I can do. Besides, I stayed up waiting. You’re not getting off that easily.”
Darien gave Baran an encouraging nudge toward the sofa. “Better not argue with her. You won’t win.”
Baran sat stiffly, his hands clasped between his knees as Miss Charlotte returned with two steaming mugs. She handed one to him, her wrinkled hands steady despite the late hour. “Here,” she said, her tone gentle now. “Drink up. You’ve earned it.”
Baran took the mug, staring down at the frothy surface. “Thanks,” he said quietly, unsure how else to express the unfamiliar warmth spreading in his chest.
Miss Charlotte sat down beside him, watching him with a mother’s concern. “Darien told me about your work tonight. Sounds like you made quite the impression.”
Baran shrugged, the praise making him uncomfortable. “I just did what I always do.”
“And that’s exactly why you’re remarkable,” she said firmly. “You pour your heart into what you do, and it shows. Don’t let anyone, least of all yourself, tell you otherwise.”
Baran looked up at her, surprised by the conviction in her voice. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words. “I…I’ll try,” he finally said.
Miss Charlotte patted his knee with a small smile. “That’s all anyone can ask for.”
As the night deepened, Baran found himself relaxing in their company, the warmth of the hot chocolate mirroring the unfamiliar yet welcome warmth of being cared for. Miss Charlotte hadn’t mentioned Daddy Darien running after him when he discovered he was missing. She didn’t ask how he ended up in a Brooklyn hotel. He wondered if Daddy Darien had told her the entire story, or had she left out the serious part of the evening?
Chapter Twenty-one
Darien
Darien wasn’t sure whatmore he should say to Baran once they got upstairs. He followed him to the bedroom.
“Do you want to sleep in here with me?”
“No.”
“Follow me then.”
Darien led the way to the guest room down the hallway, and hesitated at the door, the words catching awkwardly in his throat. He glanced at Baran, who stood in the hallway withan expression that was hard to read, his eyes distant. Finally, Darien asked, “Are you sure you want to sleep in here tonight?”
Baran didn’t meet his gaze. “I think I need my own room,” he said, almost apologetically. “To think.”
The words landed like a blow Darien hadn’t braced for.His own room? For how long?Darien swallowed hard, unsure what to say or do. He felt a twinge of hurt, though he wasn’t sure if it was from Baran’s need for space or his own failure for messing things up for him. His hands fidgeted as he nodded, forcing a small smile. “Okay. You can stay in your room.”
The room was decorated for Christmas—a whimsical haven of holiday cheer. Strings of twinkling lights framed the window.
Darien stepped inside and turned on the lights on the Christmas tree. “The switch is here if you want to turn off the light,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended. He glanced at Baran, searching his face for some sign of what he was thinking. Did the room feel too cheerful? Too much, given the rawness that hung around Baran like a heavy shadow?
Baran nodded. “Thanks.” His tone was neutral, giving nothing away.
Darien’s chest tightened. He wanted to ask more, to press. He clenched his fists, anger sparking in his veins at trusting Mr. Aslan to do the right thing for Baran. How could someone hurt their own son so badly? The thought churned inside him, unresolved and infuriating. He wanted to protect Baran, but he wasn’t sure if Baran even wanted him anymore.
He forced himself to take a step back. “You’ll let me know if you need anything?”
Baran gave a small nod. “I will.”
After an awkward pause, Darien cleared his throat. “You…working tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Baran said simply, his voice flat but certain.
Darien nodded, though it made his heart ache. “Alright.”
He lingered a moment longer, hovering in the doorway as if he might find the right thing to say. But the words never came. Instead, he gave Baran one last look and turned away, leaving him alone in the soft glow of the Christmas lights.
