The year 2019
Hmm.
This is the day when we leave for our summer vacation. It's been a hell of a ride this year since I was preparing for my architecture entrance exam. Ass on the chair sixteen hours of the day, hands on the pencil and T-scale for eighteen hours of the day, and eye bags for twenty-four hours of the day.
Architecture is no joke. You have to return your sleep to the goddess Nyx in order to be the architect. Mortgage your fun, laughs, and time to Satan until you're an architect, or else you won't be one.
I guess I am ready to sell my body to architecture; it has been my dream after all. So, before I finally tie myself to a portfolio, T-scale, and sheets... I'll use this fucking vacation to relax.
A long, fun, and relaxing vacation.
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Every single summer, the Volkovs spend their vacations with family and friends. Family as in Chens, and Friends as in Ascherbergs and Harpers.
Since Mom and her friends miss each other's company so much, they officially made this rule, a rule that says, 'Reunion once in every year, even if the apocalypse kills us all.'
And no one dares to cross what these women say. Especially their men. Their wishes are men's commands. No arguments on that.
Even if kids or men somehow couldn't make it to the vacation, Mom and her friends would cross the oceans just to meet for some hours.
I remember Mom flying to Edinburgh for a few hours because Aunt Bridget was bored in her royal meeting and needed a coffee break and gossip. Mom had forgotten to tell Dad, and he freaked out badly after not finding Mom in the house when he returned. He was this close to running out of the house barefoot before I told him where she went.
Dad just can't calm down when it comes to Mom.
.
"Niko, sweetie, are you ready?" Mom shouts from the outside, and I take a look at my room. Clean, sorted, and disciplined. The way I like it. Room or life, I like it on the right track. I slowly slid my hand on the bedsheet for the last time, picked up Sofia's wooden box, and walked out of the room with my luggage.
We're going to Eldorra this summer.
Eldorra. The country of Ascherbergs. Aunt Bridget and Uncle Rhys have arranged our vacation at their castle this time. We've been to Eldorra many times, but it's always hard to deny Aunt Bridget's request and Uncle Rhys's threat.
.
Last summer,
The Chens have arranged our vacation to their favorite place. New Zealand. We went on jungle safaris, hiking, and swimming. It was exciting and adventurous for most of us while exhausting for the rest of us.
Mom and Aunt Stella are not fond of adventures. They like their vacations to be lazy by the pool or beaches.
On the other side, Aunt Jules and Aunt Bridget will set the ground on fire since both of them are equally fond of something new. They like their vacations to be full of fun, adventure, and memories.
But this summer,
All of them want to 'just chill by the pool, have the vintage wine by the lake, and relax.' And what could be more relaxing than living in a vintage castle?
.
"Niko? Got what Sofia wanted?" Mom asked while grabbing the luggage, but Dad picked it up before she did. His plain polo flexed on his tall body as he picked up another bag effortlessly.
"Do you mean the box of scrap?" I stared at the small wooden box of Sofia, where she kept all her scribbled pages. Mom said Sofia keeps her feelings inside that box, all written on those pages. Even though I know her writings aren't scrap, it's my internal responsibility to roast her.
"Those aren't scarps, Niko. Stop teasing your sister." Mom shuts me up with her squinted eyes and locks the door of our urban house. Her yellow dress shone under the morning sun and almost matched her sunshiny personality. "Those are her writings."
"Scrap you mean?" I pecked on Mom's head when I picked up another bag by the door, and she pinched my cheek with a warning.
"You need a good beating, Niko." Mom pulled my ear as I walked her down the two stairs in front of our house, and Dad attended her a second later.
I put the luggage in the car trunk while Dad and I stared at each other with a familiar crook of the brow. Both of us knew that Mom had almost taken half of the house with her, and none of us could dare comment on that.
Especially when Mom is excited to meet her friends almost after six or seven months. Dad and I would dare to tell the devil about his mistakes but not comment too much on Mom's too much luggage.
"Sofia will join us with Chens." Mom said as Dad opened the door for her, and she sat inside the car.
"I'm glad I'll be seeing my Little Sunshine tonight." Dad took the driver's seat while I took the back. Well yes, Dad, it's obvious Dad is excited to see Sofia even though he saw her three days ago. He'd see her for a second and miss her the moment she leaves. Dad's world pretty much revolves around his sunshine and the little one.
"She's almost close to settling down with Josh and Jules. I bet she won't return home till the holidays are over." Mom laughed, nodding her head. "That uncle and niece duo is getting inseparable!"
.
Well,
My little sister practically has two houses. Chen and the Volkov. Every weekend, every holiday, and every vacation is just another reason for her to meet her beloved 'J', aka Uncle Josh.
Why wouldn't she? Uncle Josh practically raised her. Not like a parent, but both of them have that unbreakable bond where Sofi shares her things or emotions with Uncle Josh, and Uncle Josh loves her like she is the only child in the world.
I can't argue with that. Rather, Mom loves it when Sofia laughs with Dad and Uncle Josh and shares her thoughts at least with them. Sofia isn't the extroverted kid. She needs the deep comfort from the person before she finally opens up. Plus, because of Sofia's health issues, she has always been taken care of a little more. No one talks about it, and no one takes it as an issue.
"Miss your sister, Niko?" Dad glanced at me from the rearview mirror. His green eyes are always icy, but they melt when he looks at us. I looked away from his stare, as I had no answer for that in words.
Sofia is not a talkative person. She likes to keep her feelings or things a secret and barely shows her emotions to any of us. She inherited Dad's nature perfectly. Cold vibes. Quiet nature. Grumpiness. She is a mini-dad when it comes to her personality. But somehow, that makes her not be able to open up or confess her love to me or anyone of us.
She has never said 'I love you' to me. Maybe because I once beat up the boy from her school who called her a robot. Also, I was scared of her boyfriend, whom I thought had a crush on her. Maybe because I and my best friend used to annoy her. Maybe—
.
"Would Jerry be there?" I changed the subject skillfully. I am good at changing subjects. Another advantage extroverts have from their nature: "It's been long. I saw him at the Alexander sculpture exhibition last month; since then, I have had no contact."
"Of course he will be there. Everyone will be there this year." Mom said in excitement. "Even Camilla, she returned from London last month."
"Camilla is here?!" My heart did a flip. Camilla is here. After a long five fucking years. Five fucking years. Five. Fucking. Years.
"I can't wait to see my girl," Mom adores her; rather, she adores every child of her friends like her own. "My baby girl has finally returned."
"Right." I swallowed the lump of saliva; my heart feels the heaviness of something I don't think has any right to appear out of nowhere. She has returned after leaving all of us for five fucking years.
.
Yes,
It's been five years since I've seen Camilla. It's been five years since I have connected with Camilla in any way. Social media, she has none; voice calls, she didn't pick any of my calls. Messages, she didn't reply to one. Since the last incident five years ago, our contact vanished like a fog at dawn.
But I remember her perfectly. Grey eyes, blonde hair, a baby face, and delicacy. I remember her face with every inch. I remember her voice, and I remember her scent. Her voice melted caramel on the cake. Her scent, fresh roses.
Not just her, but I remember the incident with every detail like I'm watching a film. I remember it all. I'd give up anything to vanish that memory from my head, but, damn, I can't. Call it a curse or boon, but I have this photographic memory like Dad. I can't forget something, even if I want to.
.
"Good that she has returned," I said as I rested my head back on the headrest when Dad started the car. My head filled with thoughts of Camilla, repeating the time we used to spend together when we were kids.
"Why? Were you bored without Camilla?" Mom looked back at me as her sunshiny smile turned into a teasing smirk, and I rolled my eyes.
I don't know why, but she thinks Camilla and I are more than friends. Not that she says that out loud, but she had asked me about it last year. She asked me if I like Camilla. Well, it was a simple and friendly question, but I had no answer for that. I still don't have an answer for that.
I don't know about being anything more than friends. I just know that five years ago, Camilla and I were the closest friends, rather, best friends. Now, I don't know what we are. Our contact is equal to zero.
.
"Bored and me? I'm the charm of these vacations, Mom. How could I be bored if I'm the fun part there?" I praised myself for being one of the most active people in our family and friends. The other active people include Aunt Jules, Lia, Uncle Josh, and Aunt Bridget.
"You sound like Josh." Dad adjusted the mirror and glanced at me once again. "I should keep my children away from him."
"Well, you should thank him for making me be like him. All the other men on our vacation look like they walked straight out of the opera museum. Bored and annoyed." I laughed, teasing Dad. "Especially you, Uncle Christian, Uncle Rhys, and Sofia. All of you look like someone made you have fun with a gun on your head."
"Oh, I miss the time when you could barely speak the word 'Dad.'. Now look at you, answering him back." Mom pretended to wipe her tears, being dramatic as if it's going to work on me. I'm her son; I know her as much as Dad knows her.
"Dad knows how much I love him. He wouldn't mind me being sarcastic with him." I offered Dad a fist clash, and he returned it with a smile. Smiling Dad is a rare sight even for us. "Right, Dad?"
Most of the boys have a complicated relationship with their father, but not me. My relationship with Dad is friendly and transparent. Since Dad has always been supportive and open, our bond has become more like friends than father and son. Thanks to the mom blood I have in my body, it's easier to open up Dad.
Though there are some things I have kept a secret from him, some things that are not related to me but need to be told to everyone. Some things I want to scream out to our parents but can't since I've promised someone to keep it secret. And I don't break my promises.
"You and your dad!" Mom laughed. Her sunshiny aura put a spell on Dad, and he couldn't resist but to kiss her. If he wasn't driving, I bet I'd have to close my eyes at least for three minutes, because Dad can't get enough.
I turned my face away with rolling eyes but adored how much Mom and Dad love each other, even after nineteen years of marriage. They're evergreen and still deep in love.
I don't particularly believe in lifelong love, but sometimes Mom and Dad make me rethink my thoughts.
....................................................................................................................
We reached Eldorra. The country is as beautiful as paradise. The tradition here looks all royal and straight from some historical book with castles and dragons. The monuments, the buildings, the sculptures, and the roads. I love this country with all my eyes.
Why with eyes? Well, because,
I'm fond of architecture. I'm fond of places, and I'm fond of what people create with logic and math. I fell in love with the architecture because it is something people have visualized and turned into reality. Architecture is almost the same as art, as you visualize things and turn them into reality.
Like a sculptor thinks of a human figure and creates it in the mud, architects visualize the buildings and create them on the ground. With logic.
.
"Bridget!!!" Mom almost jumped out of the car when she saw Aunt Bridget. Mom's yellow dress flared with air as she ran towards her with excitement. Dad escaped to hold Mom so quickly that he could beat Flash in his speed. "Oh my god, I missed you!!!"
"Oh my god! I'll cry now!" Aunt Bridget and Mom embraced each other like they'd just returned from death and were going to die once again if they didn't hug. Well, the other aunts aren't here yet. Once the four of them unite, the walls of the castle will be filled with happy cries!
Dad and I escaped the car and—
"Volkov." Uncle Rhys nodded once. His face was stern as always. Gunmetal eyes. The tall figure of 6'5 with muscles that could crush the rock inside. He is still as scary as he always was.
"Larsen," Dad said. Typical greetings for masculine men. I almost believed that they would punch each other if they stared at each other more.
"Little Volkov." Uncle Rhys gave me a handshake after Dad moved his stare back to Mom, and I thank God for not letting my bones break after Uncle Rhys squeezed my hand. "Not so little anymore, I see." I wonder if Aunt Bridget would be the only one who managed to draw out the gentleness out of Uncle Rhys.
"Niko!!!" The warmest hug caught me between Aunt Bridget's arms, and her lips kissed my cheeks three times in a row. She still treats me as if I'm five years old, but that's fine. I know how much she loves the kids of her best friends.
Not just Aunt Bridget, but every other aunt and mom treats each other's kids as their own. Rather, they spoil each other's kids more than their own.
.
Why only moms?
The dads, who claim not to melt over anything, melt like a fucking ice cream when it comes to the princesses of our family. Sofia, Camilla, and Dahlia. They are the apples of their eyes, and dads will do anything to complete their demands and wishes.
For me and Jeremy, well, boys don't get loved like princesses by their dads. They get treated like knights.
"Look at you, Nik. You're growing taller and taller every year." Aunt Bridget kissed my cheeks once again while pulling my head down to her to match my height with hers. "And help me, you look handsome!"
"Don't be jealous, Uncle Rhys. I won't steal Aunt Bridget from you." I smirked and winked at Uncle Rhys, and he strangled my neck to return the favor. Oh god! I'll fucking die by those hands one day.
"I thought you'd grow up to be Alex Volkov, but you inherited Josh Chen perfectly." Uncle Rhys pulled me inside the house while describing his concern. Uncle Rhys's hands felt like rocks on my neck.
"Sorry, Uncle Rhys," I giggled as Uncle Rhys's hand strangled around my neck more. I know he smiled too but hid it the next second when I saw him. Smiling is a forbidden thing for these men. "I'll stay away from Aunt Bridget."
"Good for you, not-so-little Volkov." He led me to the huge living room with a tall ceiling that almost touched the sky. Big stone walls, chandeliers, paintings, and luxurious stuff are placed all over the room. Indeed, it was a castle.
"Your room will be upstairs; get fresh and come down for the refreshments. I can't wait to have a bunch of talks with you, Nik." Aunt Bridget was excited and pointed at the long, beautiful stairs that connected the two ends of the floor.
"I'll be there, Aunt Bridget. Thank you." I successfully escaped Uncle Rhys's death grip and earned myself another grin. His death stare warned me again to stop fooling around with his wife. But I enjoy making him go mad. That's what Aunt Jules and I do most of the time on our vacation.
We make these men go mad and crazy.
.
I dashed upstairs the way that Aunt Bridget told me to go on. The expensive smell of leather filled the alley. Big windows, beautiful carvings on the ceiling, and vintage lamps placed around the way. All of this looks mythical. As I said, the castle is straight out of a fairytale book. All vintage and magical.
I reached the passage in front of the row of five rooms. Which one is mine? I forgot to ask. I walked further while exploring the beautiful paintings hanging on the wall, vintage vases, and sculptures placed in the alley. I stopped at the third room and entered it by pulling the double-height door of the chamber-like room. The scent of roses filled my nostrils as soon as I stepped into the third room.
A huge room, the corner lamp with golden light shone bright even in the morning. The circular bed is placed in the middle of the room, with curtains down on the bed and all windows closed.
On the other side of the room, there were ribbons and ballet shoes placed on the table, a bouquet of roses dried on the chair, and the huge mirror that was covered with a cloth.
.
Ballet shoes. Roses. Covered mirror.
This is Camilla's room.
.
But where is she? She wasn't downstairs, nor did she come to greet us when we arrived. I, I, I'm eager to see her now that both of us are finally here. I was always this eager to see her for all these years of no contact.
I put my bag aside and walked to the tiny stairs connected to the wardrobe. The scent of roses covered every corner of the room, and I could only imagine how many flowers Uncle Rhys must have brought home for Camilla every day.
.
Pink Roses. Camilla's favorite. I should have brought something for her. She loves cheeseburgers from where I live; she also loves pistachio croissants. I thought, walking upstairs and slamming the small door open only to-
Blonde hair. Pale skin. Pink... pink nipples.
What?!
.
"Oh?!" A sweet but panicked shout made me clench my eyes close on the spot. The moment was so sudden that it took me a second to realize my ears had heard a scream and my eyes had just seen something I shouldn't have.
Did I just see—
I guess I did.
Fuck.
"Get out!" A requesting yet frustrated voice left her mouth as she covered herself with pink clothes in her hands. Her blondes fell on her face when she clenched her eyes close and froze on the spot. "Please!" Right. She is still standing here, half-naked.
"I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't know." I am buffering, aren't I? Seriously? Niko Chen Volkov. Get yourself together and walk out. Move the damn legs.
"Please get out!" Another plea, and I turned back. I turned my body with closed eyes and dashed out of that tiny room to downstairs, out of the room, and to the freaking living room before I could see anything else I wasn't supposed to see.
My heart beat faster, and breathing became heavier from how fast I ran downstairs from that room, and my mouth parted with a surprise. Was she Camilla?
Blonde hair. Grey eyes. Delicacy.
She was Camilla.
.
Fuck. Fuck. And fuck.
Did I just see Camilla?!
It must be her. Who else looks like the walking Disney princess?! All beautiful and magical.
.
It was definitely her.
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