Declared Dead By My Family, I Returned From Hell

I looked at Philip, then at Celeste.

My anger was already pushed to its breaking point. Still, deep inside, a foolish glimmer of hope remained. Maybe she had just been momentarily confused.

I reached out toward her.

“Come here,” I said hoarsely. “I’ll give you one last chance.”

She had barely taken a step when Philip suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her back behind him. This brother of mine, who had always spoken to me softly and once wore only warmth on his face, now looked at me with apparent disgust.

He stepped forward, facing me squarely, and spoke with deliberate calm. “Nathan, I’m sorry. But Celeste and I truly love each other.”

“Let go,” I said.

My fist swung before I could think.

It connected with his face, and blood immediately spilled from his nose.

Celeste screamed and slapped me hard across the cheek. The sound echoed sharply through the room. Even she froze afterward, staring at her own hand in shock.

My gaze dropped to the fresh hickey on her neck, and a bone-deep chill crept through me.

Philip wiped the blood from his face and sneered. “Nathan, is violence the only thing you’re good at? Wake up and face reality.”

He paused, then delivered the next blow, his voice colder than ever. “And she’s already pregnant. With my child.”

Something inside me snapped.

I lunged at him, and we crashed together, fists and bodies colliding in a violent struggle.

Celeste rushed forward, trying desperately to pull us apart.

In the turmoil, I pushed her away without realizing how forcefully I was pushing.

She slammed into the floor.

Almost immediately, blood began to spread beneath her.

She miscarried.

At the hospital, my mother sat wiping away her tears again and again. My father stood nearby, his face dark with anger.

Finally, he spoke, his voice heavy with reprimand. “Nathan, you were too impulsive. No matter how furious you were, you should never have laid a hand on a pregnant woman.”

I looked at them and felt only a bitter sense of absurdity. “She was carrying Philip’s child, a bastard with no blood ties to our family. And you still want it?”

“Enough!” my father roared.

His cane came down hard against my calf.

My legs gave out, and I collapsed to my knees.

His chest heaved as he pointed the cane at me. “You animal, listen carefully!”

Then, my father explained, “Philip’s father was my brother-in-arms. We exchanged our lives on the battlefield. He took a bullet for me. Before he died, he entrusted me with one thing, and it's taking care of his only son.”

He looked down at me, his eyes cold and merciless. “In your mother’s heart and mine, Philip is part of our family. If you dare touch him again, I will not wait for anyone else. I will break your legs myself.”

I knelt there, the pain in my legs insignificant compared to the icy dread spreading through my chest.

So that was it.

More than twenty years of our father-son relationship meant less than a promise made at the brink of death.

My father continued, his voice sharp with condemnation.

“And you still dare talk back? If you hadn’t neglected Celeste all these years, how could she have ended up with Philip? You’ve been willful since childhood. You’re nothing like him, who’s steady and sensible! Apologize to Philip!”

From the side, my sister added casually, “Nathan, since Philip and Celeste truly love each other, why don’t you just let them be?”

“Dad!” My voice shook as I spoke. "His feelings matter, but can my dignity—your own son—be trampled at will?"

I lifted my head just in time to catch the look Philip and Celeste exchanged.

The tenderness lingering in that shared gaze shattered my last remaining hope.

I sprang to my feet and rushed toward the hospital bed, grabbing Celeste’s wrist and trying to pull her with me.

“Come with me! Let’s leave! I won’t hold anything against you anymore!”

Celeste screamed as she fell, clawing for balance. She snatched a vase from the bedside table and smashed it violently against my head.

“Let go of me!”

Porcelain shattered against my scalp. Blood combined with cold water as it flowed down my face.

My father’s bodyguards burst into the room, wrenching my arms behind my back and forcing me to the floor.

“He’s gone mad! Completely mad!” my father shouted. “Send him to psychiatry. Lock him up and make him come to his senses!”

Pinned to the floor, my vision blurred.

The last thing I saw was Philip carefully pulling Celeste into his arms.

I was sent to a psychiatric hospital.

Under the effects of tranquilizers, time lost all meaning.

Each day, during the single hour I was allowed to watch television, the screen was filled with news of Philip and Celeste.

They were in the Maldives with my sister, smiling brightly, their happiness dazzling enough to blind me.