Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

The commotion drew glances from everyone nearby. Aaron cleared his throat a few times and looked over. "Simon, you seem out of it."

Simon kept his head down, staring at the blood on his palm where his fingernails had dug in. He masked the bitterness in his eyes.

“Just... family stuff getting to me,” he muttered.

The room fell silent again, everyone quietly focusing on their food.

After dinner, Walter called Dylan aside.

"Go check on your mother. Is your back any better?"

It still wasn't fully healed-just scabbed over.

"Yeah," Dylan replied.

He wheeled himself toward the family shrine. The chapel was a long way from the main hall, down several echoing corridors. Above the door, an ornate plaque read "Ferguson Family Chapel." Inside, a few golden prayer cushions were spread out. Mrs. Ferguson was already kneeling on one, her back straight and composed.

The incense burning here was a special blend-its scent was unique, impossible to find anywhere else.

"Mother," Dylan called softly.

her prayer beads. She opened her eyes slowly,

few days ago.

"I'm fine."

lit a stick of incense, and placed it in the burner. The smoke curled

say you'd be

to talk so

and she knelt

for what we did back then? Someone had to make a sacrifice so you could

the beads between her fingers, her voice softer,

it. He thought being sent away was a test, that if he just worked hard enough, someone would eventually come for him. I've never stopped feeling guilty about it. Sometimes I wonder if we made the right choice. Dylan, have you

back, lips pressed

he was chosen, he stopped being part of the Ferguson family. That was his fate. For his sake-and yours-you

glanced down at

hands resting quietly on the arms of his wheelchair, eyes lingering on the

Ferguson got to the real reason she'd

meant to

woman who caused your injury, you said she saved you overseas, so we let it go. But if you insist on marrying her, the people overseas

about him. It's been

it, alright? I'm sure he has a