Another Perfect Spring

Three years after being cast out of the Hawke family, Eleanor Hawke walked into my shop for a pair of custom shoes. As it happened, I was the one assigned to her.
I knelt reflexively, ready to help her with her shoes, but she stopped me, her hand on my arm.
Julian, she said, her voice laced with surprise. "What are you doing working a job like this?"
It seemed she never imagined that her once-pampered heir would now be serving others with such practiced humility.
I used her grip to help myself up, and in the same smooth motion, talked her into putting $200,000 on a store card.
She did it without hesitation. As she was leaving, she asked, a little too carefully, "Julian, do you still hate me?"
I gave her a perfect, professional smile and saw her out the door.
The moment she was gone, I asked my manager for a transfer to another branch.
I didn't hate her anymore. But I never wanted anything to do with the Hawke family again.

1
It was pouring rain when I got off work.
Eleanor's Maybach was parked by the curb, its hazard lights blinking.
She rolled down the window and called out to me. "Julian, let me give you a ride home."
I glanced at the rideshare app on my phone. The wait was endless. I wisely accepted her offer.
Life has taught me one crucial lesson: never pass up an opportunity for comfort. Otherwise, your entire existence becomes a trial.
The driver was still Arthur. He grinned when he saw me. "Young Master Julian, you look different."
"More grounded," he continued. "A bit like your father."
"Arthur, just drive," Eleanor said sharply from the back.
My father's death was a wound that never healed for any of us. The slightest mention was enough to make it ache.
A soft classical piece began to play through the car's speakers. Eleanor had looked like she wanted to say something, but the mention of my father had silenced her. She leaned back against the leather, her expression weary and dark.
I took a pause in the music to speak. "Arthur, you can just call me Julian. I haven't been the 'Young Master' of the Hawke family for a long time."
Arthur just kept smiling, unfazed by Eleanor's mood. "It's just a title, son. A habit of many years."

2
Hearing Arthur's warm, steady voice, I couldn't help but smile.
When I was fourteen, at the peak of my rebellious phase, Eleanor brought home a boy she was sponsoring. His name was originally Caleb, but after learning he was an orphan, Eleanor had him take our name. She thought his given name was common, so she renamed him Caleb Hawke.
I was Julian Hawke, he was Caleb Hawke.
But everyone always said how polite and thoughtful Caleb was, how it was no wonder Eleanor doted on him. As for me, I was arrogant and spoiled, not nearly as composed as the boy from the mountains.
A rebellious teenager has his pride. I wouldn't let him outshine me. I berated every gossiping servant in the house until I was exhausted. I sat down to catch my breath, only to see Eleanor standing around the corner, her eyes filled with disgust.
And next to her stood Caleb, dressed in the latest designer clothes, looking smug.
I knew it was his doing. Ever since he arrived, everything I did was twisted to make me look like a bully. I had been friendly to him at first, but he would always act hesitant and wounded. Within days, rumors were flying that the Hawke heir looked down on commoners.
I swore to Eleanor, argued, collapsed into her arms in a desperate hug, and pleaded, "Mom, why don't you believe me?"
She just sighed. "Julian, when will you ever grow up?"
She always thought I was a lost cause. She seemed to forget that she once promised, "No matter what Julian does, Mommy will always have your back."
I wanted to rip the mask off Caleb's face and show her the ugliness underneath.
But what I said was, "What gives you the right to wear something like that?"
The clothes were from a new collection. He couldn't have worn them without her permission. Her favoritism had been there all along. I was just too stupid to see it, too desperate to win a game that was already lost.
The day after that, Caleb's name was legally changed. He became the sole heir of the Hawke family.
And I became a complete joke.

3
Only two people ever stood by my side: my father and Arthur.
My father was always busy with work and carried a deep guilt towards my mother. Even when he knew I was being wronged, his only solution was to give me more money. This only made Eleanor despise me more, believing I was a greedy manipulator.
Arthur was originally my father's driver. After hearing that Caleb was being "bullied," Eleanor assigned Arthur to drive him, a clear message that the entire household stood behind Caleb.
But no matter how Caleb tried to win him over, Arthur remained unmoved, never saying more than was necessary. With me, however, he was different.
"Young Master," he'd say, "it's getting cold. Make sure you wear a coat."
When he saw me withdrawn and miserable, he'd try to comfort me. "She's your mother, son. Deep down, she still loves you."
Did she? I had stopped believing that a long time ago. But I was still grateful for his kindness. A dark cloud of scorn hung over me, and Arthur was the only one who ever tried to let a little light through.
The car slowed. I knew we were close to my place.
"Arthur, you can just stop here. The alley ahead is a nightmare to get in and out of."
Eleanor seemed to wake from a trance, her eyes widening in shock as she took in the run-down neighborhood.
"Julian... you live here?"
I just smiled and gave a polite farewell. "Thank you for the ride, Mrs. Hawke. I won't take up any more of your time."
Pain flickered in her eyes. "Do you have to speak to me like that?"
I simply bowed my head. Then I opened my umbrella and walked alone into the heavy curtain of rain.

4
When I got home, I saw a new friend request on my phone. The name was simply "[Mom]".
My manager had told me Mrs. Hawke had specifically asked for my contact information. She'd praised my service and added two million dollars to her store card. "Keep this client happy, Julian," he'd said, "and you'll be our top salesman for the year."
I hesitated, but the thought of Leo's medical bills made me accept.
"Thank you for your support, Mrs. Hawke :) :)" I typed.
The status indicator showed she was typing for a long time. I waited, wondering what she could possibly be writing. Eventually, I gave up and went to take a shower.
When I came back, I saw a string of retracted messages.
Only one remained.
"Your father's memorial is the day after tomorrow. Will you come?"
The message triggered a night of relentless nightmares, replaying the events that had destroyed my life.
Caleb had been suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. He needed a bone marrow transplant, and I was the only match. But my own health was poor at the time, and I was undergoing treatment. I refused. I was ready to give up everything, to leave the Hawke family and never look back.
The night before I was set to leave, Eleanor sat me down for a talk.
She reminisced about my childhood. How I was a messy little boy, and she had dreamed of raising a perfect prince. How for her birthday, I had dressed up in a flamboyant suit to make her happy, only to be scolded for being too ostentatious. How I'd cried in the middle of the night, telling her, "I just wanted to make you happy, Mommy."
How in elementary school, I'd overheard other parents mocking her for being a bad mother because of my poor grades, and I'd studied relentlessly to get a perfect score, losing so much weight in the process that my chin was sharp against her shoulder. "It hurts my shoulder," she'd said, "but it hurts my heart more."
She looked at me with a misty, nostalgic gaze. "Julian, do you still love your mother like you did when you were a little boy?"
"Of course," I'd answered. "But Mom... do you still love me?"
"...Of course."
If only I had seen the flicker of evasion in her eyes through the dim light. If only I hadn't taken that glass of water she'd drugged.
I collapsed into her arms. I remember her soft fingers on my cheek, gently wiping away a tear.
But when I woke up, it was to an ice-cold reality.
My own mother had drugged me so they could take my bone marrow for Caleb. The procedure left me bedridden and weak for months.

5
Lying alone in that sterile hospital room, I had only one thought: revenge.
To hell with her. From that day on, she was no longer my mother. She was just... that woman.
I stormed back to the Hawke estate, weak and shivering in a thin hospital gown. They were celebrating Caleb's birthday.
I took a baseball bat and demolished the entire ground floor of the mansion. If security hadn't stopped me, I would have caved their heads in. I screamed until my throat was raw, the rage in my eyes making that woman shrink back in fear, right into Caleb's waiting arms.
Their solution was to have me committed to a psychiatric hospital.
If my father hadn't returned when he did, I would have ended up either a mindless vegetable or a corpse.
He returned with the truth. The leukemia, the transplantit was all a lie, a scheme cooked up by Caleb.
His real target was my fiance.
My engagement to Isabella Vance had been arranged since we were children. The Vance family's new energy enterprise had made them far more powerful than the Hawkes. No matter how hard that woman tried to push Caleb into high society, she could never find him a better match. So, Caleb had been secretly corresponding with Isabella for months.
And I had worked tirelessly to earn the approval of Isabella's parents, finally securing my place in their family.

6
Now, with the truth revealed, that woman just held Caleb and wept.
"In that case," she declared, "Caleb should marry Isabella."
"What else can we do? We can't lose our connection to the Vance family."
"As for Julian..." She glanced at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before looking away. "You can have the villa in Northwood. You can move there today."
I had grown up in Southwood. She was banishing me to the other side of the city. I didn't want to stay in that house a moment longer, but I would not let them get away with this so easily.
My father flew into a rage, but she just sobbed. "What was I supposed to do? I finally have a son who loves me. Are you asking me to lose him too? It's because you were never here! I had to raise him alone!"
"If I can only have one son," she screamed, "it will be Caleb! If you make him leave, I'll go with him."
In the end, my father gave in.
The day I left, he said, "Wait for your mother to come to her senses. Don't hate her."
He didn't understand. I hated him too. For his weakness. I left without saying goodbye.
I became a snake, coiled in the darkness, waiting.
I watched as Caleb and Isabella got married. I watched that woman beam with joy at the wedding. I heard that Isabella had bought Caleb a yacht, and they threw extravagant parties. The media called Caleb a golden boy, the savior of the Hawke-Vance alliance.
One day, my father called me. "Isabella is pregnant. The morning sickness is hitting her hard." Then, after a pause, "Julian, it's been a while. Are you feeling better?"
I heard myself answer, my voice wooden. "No. The doctors say the damage is permanent."
Everything after that happened in slow motion.
I drove to the hospital. I saw that woman helping Isabella out of a car, laughing and chatting. I saw my father and Caleb walking side-by-side, a perfect picture of father and son.
I pressed my foot on the accelerator.
Faster. Faster.
I was going to kill him at the peak of his happiness.
I was innocent. Why did he deserve a life of joy?
Their faces turned to masks of horror. My father shoved Caleb out of the way. He hit the windshield, blood blooming across the spiderweb of cracks before he fell away.
I slammed on the brakes, my chest colliding with the steering wheel, a tearing pain ripping through me.
The car door was wrenched open. I was dragged out. That woman beat me over the head with her handbag. Something sharp cut my face. A flurry of slaps.
The police came. They took me away.
My father's last words were: "Don't blame Julian."
But that woman and the Vance family hired the best lawyers. They pushed for the maximum sentence.
The day I was sent to prison, they told me Isabella had lost the baby due to the shock. I smiled.
"You monster," they screamed. "How can you still smile?"

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