Return in the Quiet Season

Eight years ago, they said I was a monster. A drunk driver who killed dozens of people.
I tried to tell the truth, but my parents had already forged the evidence. They sacrificed me to protect my adoptive brother, Finn.
In the ensuing public outrage, every gallery canceled my contracts. I begged my fiance for help, but she refused to listen to a word of my explanation.
She called me a butcher. She stood by and watched as the victims' families severed the tendons in my right hand, ensuring I'd never hold a paintbrush again.
Then, she, my parents, and my brother conspired to send me to prison for eight years.
Now, I'm out. A ghost with a new name, working as a security guard in a quiet apartment complex. No one knows my past, and I've grown used to the calm.
Until she appeared again. My former fiance, Elara.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, her jaw tight with accusation.
"Noah, why did you disappear?"
"Don't you know your parents and I have been looking everywhere for you?"
...
I sat frozen in the security booth, my uniform a shield of anonymity. "Ma'am, I think you have the wrong person."
But Elara wouldn't be dismissed. She lunged forward, grabbing my hand, trying to drag me out into the open. "You're always so stubborn! It was your stubbornness eight years ago that got all those people killed! When are you going to stop?"
Her voice was loud, sharp enough to cut, but it died in her throat the moment she saw my right hand.
Her gaze dropped, fixing on the mangled limb. Her fingers trembled as she reached out to touch the grotesque, crisscrossing scars.
It's been eight years. The pain is long gone. But her touch felt like a blade, threatening to slice open the old wounds. A cold sweat soaked through my shirt. The terror of that day, of the tendons being torn from my flesh, rushed back, and I began to shake uncontrollably.
Elara's voice was a raw whisper. "Noah... did it hurt?"
"I'm sorry."
I didn't answer her, but her commotion had already attracted the attention of my captain, Dave. He came running over, his face etched with concern. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? Let go of him!"
Before Dave could reach us, a group of students from the nearby arts university swarmed around Elara. "You're Elara Vance, aren't you? The most famous artist in the country right now! Could I please get your autograph?"
Thanks to them, Elara let go of my hand. I scrambled back, putting as much distance between us as I could.
Dave, finally understanding the scene, turned to me, his face a mask of shock. "Noah... these kids are saying you're someone important. Who... who are you?"
Before I could answer, one of the students piped up again. "I heard you've been looking for your fianc, the one who went to prison. Don't tell me it's this security guard?"
The student shot me a look of pure disdain. "Your fianc was a genius painter. This guy is just some broken-down guard. A cripple. You must have the wrong person."
A bitter smile touched my lips. He was right. I couldn't even hold a paintbrush anymore. I was nothing but a shadow of my former self.
But Elara, who had been signing autographs, froze. Her face hardened. "Shut up," she snapped. "This is between me and Noah. It's none of your business."
She pushed through the crowd and walked back to me, holding out a gold-embossed invitation.
I looked down. The words burned my eyes.
Wedding Invitation: Finn & Elara
Of course. She was marrying my adoptive brother.
"Noah," Elaras face was a canvas of pain. "What you did eight years ago... it destroyed me. Finn was there for me through it all. He stayed by my side for eight years. I can't let him down."
"You always said you wanted to see me in a wedding dress. I hope you'll come." I took the invitation and placed it on the counter beside me, turning away from it.
I thought that would be the end of it. But that night, I got a call from the factory where I'd found a second job.
"Noah, son. You're a young man, a great painter once. This place is beneath you." The old factory manager's voice was trembling over the phone. "I'll pay you a full month's salary, three thousand. Just please... don't come back."
I was stunned, but before I could ask what was happening, he had already blocked my number.
A moment later, my phone rang again. It was Elara.
"Noah," her voice was heavy with exhaustion. "You shouldn't be working as a security guard. I spoke to the factory. Come back. Your parents and I will take care of you. I have ways to get you back into the art world, you don't have to..."
I hung up.
Who the hell did she think she was?
Eight years ago, she refused to listen, so certain of my guilt that she let them destroy my hand as punishment. Now, without asking, without a single shred of trust or a single question about the truth, she was bulldozing her way back into my life, shattering the peace I'd fought so hard to build.
Her words made me sick with anger. I sat on my dorm bed, breathing deeply, trying to calm the storm inside me.
Dave saw my distress and brought me a cup of hot water. "Kid, what the hell is going on?"
I knew he was bursting with questions. Dave had been good to me. When I first got out of prison, with nothing to my name and a useless hand, he'd taken pity on me and gotten me the security job. The pay was only a thousand a month, but it came with room and board. It was a lifeline.
I wasn't going to lie to him. I bought a rotisserie chicken and a bottle of cheap whiskey, and I told him everything.
He listened in silence for a long time, then clapped a hand on my shoulder and let out a heavy sigh. "Forget the job. We'll find another one. If you have nowhere to go, I've got a basement. It's not much, but you can stay there for now."
The next day, as I was packing my things to move out, I found them waiting for me. The families of the victims. I don't know how they found me, but they were blocking the entrance to the dorm.
The moment they saw me, their rage ignited.
"You animal! We finally found you!"
"Our families are dead because of you! Why are you still alive?"
They surged forward, surrounding me. I tried to speak, to explain, but a foot slammed into my stomach, knocking the wind out of me.
I curled into a ball on the ground, pain exploding through me as a storm of fists and clubs rained down. Warm blood seeped from my body, my few belongings scattering in the dirt.
A single drop of rain hit my face. The sky, a bruised gray, finally broke, and the heavens opened up.
Maybe they grew tired, or maybe it was the rain, but they eventually stopped. After a few final, spiteful kicks, they left.
I lay there alone, unable to move, as the downpour washed the blood from my skin. I tried to push myself up, again and again, but each time I collapsed back into the mud.
"Noah! Are you okay?"
It was Dave, running toward me with an old umbrella. He helped me to my feet and loaded me onto his beat-up scooter, taking me to the hospital.
But every clinic, every hospital, big or small, saw me and immediately refused to treat me.
Finally, an old doctor took pity on me. He secretly slipped me a bottle of antiseptic. "Son, someone important has made some calls," he whispered. "No one will dare treat you. Go home."
I laughed, a broken, bitter sound that turned into tears. Elara, is this your idea of helping me? It's a cruel kind of help.
Defeated, I returned to Dave's basement. I had just collapsed onto the cot when there was a knock at the door.
It was my parents, with Finn. He saw me and his eyes immediately welled up.
"Brother, why are you living in a place like this? I know you still love Elara. You must be doing this to protest. Fine... I won't marry her. I'll give her back to you..."
He trailed off, his voice catching in a sob, as if he were enduring some terrible sacrifice. It was his signature move. Anytime he wanted something from me, he'd pull this act. Because his parents had died in the car crash that saved my own, my parents felt an endless debt to him. Whenever he cried, they automatically assumed I was the bully.
Sure enough, seeing his pitiful display, my father strode forward and slapped me across the face. "Stop embarrassing us! Do you think acting pathetic is going to make us feel sorry for you? Make Elara take you back? Dream on!"
My mother rushed to comfort Finn, her voice cold as she addressed me. "Alright, people have already found you. If you don't come home with us, it will look like we're mistreating you. We can't have anyone getting suspicious and looking into what happened back then. Let's go!"
When I didn't move, my father took it as a challenge to his authority. He kicked me, his foot landing squarely on one of my fresh wounds.
Blood soaked through my shirt. My father raised his hand to strike me again, but froze. He stared at the spreading stain, and slowly, his hand dropped.
My mother's voice softened with a hint of concern. "Noah, what happened? Where did you get these injuries?"
I clenched my jaw, my body trembling with pain.
Finn's eyes darted nervously. "Mom, Dad, he must have done it to himself! He's probably so angry he's self-harming, like in the movies!" He wiped away a fake tear and leaned close to me. "Brother, please don't make them worry. Don't hurt yourself like this."
His words were earnest, but then he leaned closer, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear.
"Why didn't they just beat you to death? Useless."
He pulled back, adding a few more words of feigned concern for our parents' benefit. They bought it, of course. My father snorted. "If he wants to hurt himself, let him. Finn, you're too kind. Let's go. Leave him."
They turned and left with Finn, never seeing the triumphant smirk he shot me over his shoulder.
After they were gone, I locked the door and, gritting my teeth against the pain, re-bandaged my wounds.
I had just finished when Dave knocked and came in. He was wringing his hands, his face a picture of misery. "Noah, kid..." He paused, struggling for words. "It's not that I don't want you here... it's just... some important people from the city... they came by. My kids are still young, I just can't..."
I knew what he was trying to say. I didn't blame him. He had done more than enough.
I thanked him again, and not wanting to cause him any more trouble, I packed my things and left that same night. The moment I stepped outside, Elara was there with a moving truck.
Seeing her confirmed my suspicions. I frowned. "Is this fun for you, Elara? Why are you threatening innocent people?"
She avoided my gaze, glancing at Dave's house. "I didn't want to, Noah. You forced my hand. Just come back with me peacefully. I will help you get out of this rut. Why are you fighting this?"
I didn't answer. The ride back to the city was silent and suffocating. She took me to a small apartment where my parents were already waiting on the sofa. The moment I saw them, my instinct was to turn and run, but Elara slammed the door shut behind me.
"Where do you think you're going?" my father snapped. "Haven't you caused enough shame?"
"A murderer like you should be grateful we're giving you a place to hide," my mother added coldly. "We know you're not over Elara marrying Finn, but look at yourself. Do you really think someone with your record deserves her? You will stay here until after the wedding. If you go out, you report to us first, and you wear a mask!"
Their words were so absurd I almost laughed. "Me? A murderer? A shame?" I began, "You of all people know what really happened..."
My mother's hand flew out, cutting me off with a sharp slap.
My father shot to his feet, his face contorted with panic and rage. "Shut your mouth! If you dare say another word, I will tear it off your face!"
Elara looked confused, but just then, my father's phone rang. It was the butler. "Sir, it's terrible! The young master has a fever, he's collapsed!"
That was all it took. Elara's confusion vanished, replaced by alarm. She and my parents rushed out, slamming the door behind them. As I watched their retreating backs, a familiar ache spread through my chest, but it was mixed with a profound sense of relief.
My phone buzzed. A text from Finn.
See, brother? All I have to do is say the word, and they all come running back to me.
Attached was a photo: Elara in the kitchen making soup, my parents gently tending to him with a hot drink.
I didn't reply. I turned off my phone and lay back on the bed. I had given up on them long ago. I no longer cared who held the higher place in their hearts.
I hadn't had a proper night's sleep since Elara had reappeared in my life. I was asleep almost instantly.
The next day, I woke up to a searing pain.
My mother was dragging me out of bed by my hair. Before I could even cry out, she was screaming. "Noah, what the hell is wrong with you? Why did you post about your return online?!"
I was bewildered. "What? I was asleep all day! I didn't do anything!"
My father threw his phone at my face. I picked it up. An account, claiming to be me, had posted a new status:
I'm back, but my fiance is about to marry someone else.
The post had exploded. The comments were a torrent of hate.
A murderer thinks he has the right to a good woman like her?
Take a look in the mirror, you piece of scum!
Just die already! Why didn't you pay for your crimes with your life? Murderer!
"You're still lying!" my father seethed. "You can't stand to see your brother happy, can you? He's getting married tomorrow! After everything he's done for you, why have you always been like this?"
Elara's face was a mask of disappointment. "Eight years, Noah, and you haven't changed one bit. You disgust me."
Without another word, she grabbed my arm and dragged me into a small, dark storage closet.
The door slammed shut, and I heard the lock click into place.
[Paywall]
"Noah, Finn has been crying all day, saying he's sorry for hurting you," Elara's voice came from the other side of the door. "To make sure you don't ruin the wedding, you're going to stay in here. You're not going anywhere."
I pounded on the door, my voice raw with panic. "No! No! I won't go out tomorrow, I swear! Please, let me out! I can't be in here!"
But there was no answer. I heard the front door close, and then the apartment was silent, filled only with the echoing sound of my own desperate pleas.
The closet was tiny, windowless, and pitch black.
In prison, I'd been bullied, locked in a toilet stall for three days without food or water until I passed out. Ever since, I've had severe claustrophobia.
I curled into a tight ball, the wounds on my body beginning to seep blood again. Pain, fear, and the suffocating darkness swam together, my consciousness starting to fade. But my survival instinct was a cruel master, refusing to let me slip away completely.
I don't know how much time passed. It might have been the next day. I could hear the faint, festive sound of a wedding procession outside. It must be time. Elara and Finn were getting married.
I felt like I couldn't hold on any longer. But just then, a thick, acrid smoke began to seep under the door.
Fire.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "307430" to read the entire book.