Chapter 7
The crunch of loose gravel under their shoes was the only sound as Julian and Arthur reached the edge of the circular drive. A few luxury sedans idled near the curb, their exhaust pipes puffing faint white clouds into the crisp night air. Julian pulled his car keys from his trouser pocket, the metal ring cold against his thumb. He glanced down at his father, who was still clutching the half-eaten slice of plain white bread in his trembling hand like some fragile anchor to reality. "You okay, Dad?" Julian asked quietly, unlocking his old sedan parked a respectable distance from the imported sports cars near the entrance. Arthur nodded slowly, his gaze drifting toward the manicured boxwood hedges that bordered the property. " shouldn't have worn this old sweater, Jules," the old man mumbled, his voice raspy and cracked with genuine remorse. "Didn't want to embarrass you in front of your new friends." Julian stopped with his hand on the car door handle, a sharp pain striking his chest. He walked around the hood, closed the small physical distance between them, and gently took the crushed bread from his father’s fingers, letting it drop into a nearby trash receptacle. "You could never embarrass me, Dad," Julian said firmly, his voice steady. "The only people who should be embarrassed are inside that house." He opened the passenger door, helping Arthur slide carefully onto the worn cloth seat before closing it gently.
