Shadows of the Past

The news of Arthur's allergic reaction spread like wildfire, casting a dark shadow over Lou's restaurant. Despite the truth, rumors began swirling—accusations of food mishandling, neglect, and even intentional harm. The restaurant's reputation was at risk, and Lou was devastated. His dream was unraveling, and he wasn't sure how to salvage it.

In his office, Arthur was still feeling the effects of the allergy. The lingering discomfort was overshadowed, however, by the unannounced visit from his father, Richard Langston. Richard stormed in, looking every bit the powerful businessman he was known to be, yet his expression was tight with worry.

"Arthur, what on earth is going on?" his father demanded, his tone both concerned and accusatory. "The news is calling it negligence at a restaurant you frequent! And more importantly, why were you eating seafood? You know about your allergy."

Arthur sighed, weary of the questions. He had barely processed the strange events with Aelira, let alone the hospital visit, and now this.

"It was an accident, Dad. Someone… someone gave me the food without telling me it was seafood." He glanced away, trying to avoid his father's gaze.

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Richard's voice softened, but his frustration lingered. "Arthur, I know you're under a lot of pressure. But you can't keep acting like you're invincible." He took a step closer, his tone gentler. "When you put yourself in danger, I worry. Your brother worries."

Arthur stiffened, his jaw clenching slightly. "I don't need you to worry about me, Dad. I can handle myself."

"Arthur," his father began, but Arthur cut him off, his tone turning cold.

"Please, stop," he said quietly, his voice strained.

Richard paused, clearly uncertain how to proceed. After a long silence, he finally sighed. "Alright, Arthur. But if you ever need someone to talk to, you know I'm here."

Without another word, Richard left the office, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts.

As soon as his father left, Arthur slumped in his chair, feeling the weight of his past bearing down on him. The memories began to resurface, memories he usually kept locked away—flashes of the car crash that had taken his mother, the emptiness he'd felt in the days that followed.

In his mind, he saw her again—her smile, her warmth, and the sudden loss that had left a void in his life. She had been his guide, his greatest support, and her absence was a wound that had never healed. Since her death, Arthur had struggled with a deep-rooted trauma that affected his memory, especially during times of intense stress. It was a secret he kept close, known only to him and Dr. Keats, his lifelong friend and doctor.

His fingers gripped the edge of his desk, and his mind drifted further back, to the day his mother had told him, "Take care of your brother, Arthur. You're his anchor." The words had stayed with him, and after her death, he'd felt it his duty to look after Astron, to protect him. But who was there to protect Arthur?

The memories overwhelmed him until a sudden knock at the door snapped him back to the present.

"Arthur?" It was Edwin, his assistant, looking in cautiously. "Your next meeting is in five minutes. Are you alright?"

Arthur blinked, pushing away the weight of his thoughts. "Yes, I'm fine. Let's go."