A GOD'S WAY OF JUDGEMENT

The car slowed to a stop in front of Alex’s house, the upscale neighborhood basking in the glow of streetlights. Ronan’s sharp gaze took in the details—the tall trees lining the road, the sprawling lawns, the grand entrance of Alex’s home. It wasn’t just an ordinary house; it was the kind of place that signaled wealth.

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "You live here?" he asked, a note of curiosity in his voice.

Alex shifted in his seat; his tone casual but a little restrained. "Yeah. My dad... well, my parents are divorced. He lives in Country S, and I stay here with my mom."

Ronan said nothing, but his mind was already piecing things together. Alex came from wealth—something he hadn’t initially guessed. It added another layer to the young man who had been so brave and confident around him.

As the car hummed softly, Alex turned to Ronan. "Do you want to come inside?"

Ronan hesitated, considering the implications. "Are you sure? My identity might trouble your mother."

Alex smiled, brushing off the concern. "Nah, it won’t. My mom doesn’t get rattled easily."

Ronan looked at Alex for a moment, assessing the sincerity of his words. Finally, he nodded. "Alright."

They stepped out of the car and walked towards the grand entrance. The door swung open as soon as they approached, and there stood Alex’s mother, waiting patiently for her son.

“Mom!” Alex said, his voice lighting up as he stepped forward to embrace her.

The scene before Ronan triggered something deep inside him. Alex’s hug—so natural, so warm—brought a flood of memories. It reminded him of the last time he had seen his own mother. Except he hadn’t been able to hug her. He hadn’t even said goodbye properly. The memory twisted like a blade in his chest, and for a brief moment, a flicker of sadness crossed his face.

Pushing the thought aside, Ronan straightened up and stepped forward. "Good evening, aunty," he said with a small nod, his voice respectful but slightly detached. "I’m Ronan."

Alex’s mother looked at him, her eyes soft and warm, entirely unperturbed by the reputation that surrounded him. Her smile was gentle, kind, as though Ronan were just another guest. "It’s nice to meet you, Ronan. Please, come in."

There was no fear in her eyes, no trembling in her voice. She greeted him with the same kindness she had for Alex, treating him not as the feared figure he had become in the world’s eyes, but as a person—someone worthy of care. Ronan was momentarily taken aback by the genuine warmth of her hospitality. It reminded him of something he had lost long ago.

He stepped inside, his usual guard softening just slightly as the warmth of the home washed over him.

After introducing himself, Ronan followed Alex and his mother into the living room. The warmth of the home seemed to embrace him, a far cry from the cold, calculated world he usually navigated. The cozy room was filled with soft lighting, family pictures on the walls, and the inviting scent of something freshly baked. They settled down on the plush sofas, and Alex’s mom, radiating kindness, sat across from Ronan with a welcoming smile.

"So, you’ll be joining Alex at college soon?" Alex’s mom asked, her tone warm and curious.

Ronan nodded with a polite smile. "Yes, I’ve already taken care of the admission formalities. I’ll be starting very soon."

"That’s exciting!" she replied, beaming. "I’m sure it will be good for Alex to have you there. It’s always nice to have a friend nearby."

Alex chimed in with a playful grin. "Well, if you can handle the stress of world domination, I’m sure a few classes will be a breeze for you, right?"

Ronan chuckled lightly. "Maybe I’ll finally face my greatest challenge—group projects," he said with a smirk.

Alex’s mom laughed softly. "Oh, don’t worry, Ronan. College isn’t all that bad. It’s more about finding your rhythm." She paused, glancing at her son with fondness. "I think Alex could use someone like you—someone who knows what it means to go after what they want, but also has a heart under all that seriousness."

Ronan’s smile deepened slightly, the warmth of their words touching him more than he expected. "I’ll do my best," he replied.

"How was school for you before?" Alex’s mom asked, genuinely curious. "I bet you were a star student, weren’t you?"

Ronan’s gaze softened as he thought back. "Not exactly. I’ve been through a lot that took me away from the usual school experience. But… I did learn plenty. Maybe not in the typical classroom," he added, his tone tinged with reflection.

Alex’s mother nodded, understanding without prying. "Life has its own ways of teaching us, doesn’t it? But you’re here now, and that’s what matters. I’m sure the two of you will make a great team at college."

The light-hearted conversation carried on, with Alex’s mother telling Ronan stories about Alex when he was younger—how he used to hate homework and sneak out to play soccer with his friends. Ronan listened attentively, occasionally glancing at Alex, who groaned in playful embarrassment at his mother’s stories.

"Mom, come on, you’re making me sound like a rebel," Alex laughed, covering his face.

"You were!" she teased with a laugh. "But it’s okay. Every kid needs a bit of rebellion. Even you, Ronan," she added, looking at him with a smile that was both kind and understanding.

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Rebellion? I think I might’ve gone a little overboard on that front."

The room erupted in laughter, the tension of their earlier conversations completely forgotten in the warmth and joy of the moment. It was a rare occasion for Ronan, being surrounded by such ease and care. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he wasn’t being judged or feared but simply accepted.

As the conversation continued, Alex’s mom refilled their drinks and passed around a plate of cookies, offering them to Ronan with a smile. "I baked these earlier. You should try one."

Ronan hesitated for a moment, then took a cookie, surprised by how good it tasted. "These are excellent," he said, a small note of surprise in his voice.

"See, I’m not just good at embarrassing Alex!" she replied, beaming.

They shared more laughs, more light conversation, and for a moment, Ronan forgot about the weight of the world outside. In this small, cozy living room, he was just Ronan—sharing moments with people who weren’t afraid of him.

As they reached the door, the warmth of the house lingered in the air, a stark contrast to the weight of the world that Ronan often felt on his shoulders. Alex opened the door, revealing the cool night air outside.

Ronan paused, turning to Alex. “I had a really good time tonight,” he said, his voice genuine.

Alex smiled back, a hint of unease in his eyes. “Me too. It was nice to just... relax for once.”

Ronan stepped outside, looking up at the starry sky for a moment before meeting Alex’s gaze again. “I want you to know something, Alex. No matter what happens in the future, please trust me.”

Alex furrowed his brow, but Ronan continued, “You’re someone who is my friend now. That means something to me.”

The sincerity in Ronan’s voice struck a chord within Alex. “I... I appreciate that, Ronan. I really do.”

Ronan nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Just remember that, okay? Even when things get complicated.”

“Yeah, I will,” Alex replied, feeling the weight of the moment.

With a final nod, Ronan turned to leave, a sense of determination in his stride. Behind him, Alex watched, a mix of hope and uncertainty swirling in his heart, wishing he could hold onto the warmth of their friendship as tightly as he could.

As Ronan disappeared into the night, the world felt just a little less heavy for both of them.

As Ronan settled into the plush leather seats of his car, the familiar hum of the engine enveloped him. He pulled away from Alex's house, the warmth of their conversation still lingering in his mind. But the comfort was short-lived; the weight of his thoughts pressed heavily on him.

His phone buzzed, interrupting his contemplation. It was Gerald. With a sigh, Ronan answered, knowing this conversation would likely tread on familiar ground.

“Hey, Ronan,” Gerald’s voice was steady, but there was an edge of concern. “I know it’s too much to pry, but what are you actually planning? The path you’re walking on—this revenge—it might hurt your relationship with Celia.”

Ronan tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his jaw clenching. “I know what path I’m walking,” he replied, his voice low but firm. “And I want to keep Celia out of it.”

There was a pause on the line, the silence heavy with unspoken worry. Gerald broke it gently. “But what about returning to heaven in ten years when you go to kill Draven? Are you sure you want to take Celia with you?”

“No,” Ronan said sharply, a spark of anger flaring in his chest. “I’ll go alone. Celia is someone I love—the last connection I have to living. What kind of idiot takes the daughter of the person he’s going to kill as a teammate?”

His words hung in the air, a mix of defensiveness and vulnerability. Gerald’s voice softened. “Ronan…”

“It’s been four days since I woke up,” Ronan interrupted, emotion spilling over. “And do you know how many nights I’ve slept properly?” He swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in his throat. “None. I haven’t slept a single night. Every time I close my eyes, I see that scene—”

Ronan's voice faltered, and he took a deep breath, the memories crashing over him like waves. The anguish, the loss—it all came rushing back, raw and unfiltered. He could almost feel the heat of the fire, the screams echoing in his ears, the faces of those he couldn’t save.

After a long drive, Ronan finally arrived at his mansion, the sprawling structure looming like a fortress in the night. As he stepped inside, the silence enveloped him, amplifying the weight of his thoughts. The grand hall, adorned with dark wood and sleek metal, felt cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the warmth he had just experienced at Alex’s home.

He walked through the dimly lit corridors; the shadows seeming to stretch and contort as he moved. Every step felt heavier, the memories of his past weighing down on him. Eventually, he reached his bedroom, the sanctuary he had created amidst the chaos of his life.

Once inside, he turned on a single lamp, casting a soft glow that barely penetrated the darkness. The bed looked inviting, yet he knew that sleep wouldn’t come easily. He moved to his nightstand and opened the drawer, revealing a small bottle of sleeping pills—specially modified just for him. They were designed to silence the storm in his mind, to lull him into the oblivion he so desperately craved.

Ronan hesitated for a moment; the internal struggle evident on his face. Would this really help? Would it push away the memories that haunted him? He unscrewed the cap, the sound echoing in the quiet room, and poured a couple of pills into his palm. They felt foreign, like a last resort, but he had reached a breaking point.

With a resigned sigh, he washed the pills down with a glass of water, feeling them slip down his throat like the weight of his burdens. He climbed into bed, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the warmth of his thoughts. As he settled into the pillows, he closed his eyes, willing himself to find peace.

But as soon as he did, the darkness came rushing back. The images of flames, screams, and faces filled with terror danced behind his eyelids, relentless in their pursuit. He gritted his teeth, trying to push them away, but they clung to him like shadows.

Eventually, the exhaustion overwhelmed him, and he drifted into a restless sleep, the pills slowly easing the grip of reality. The nightmares were still there, lurking just beneath the surface, but for now, he was too tired to fight them.

In the solitude of his room, Ronan sought solace in the hope that, one day, he would wake up free from the chains of his past.