“You’re really gonna walk out on me like that?” Dorian’s voice was low, dangerous. “After everything we’ve been through?”

Naima wiped away her tears, her chin trembling as she tried to maintain her composure. “You’ve already walked out, Dorian. Maybe not physically, but you’re not here anymore. You haven’t been for a long time.”

His anger flared, the memories of his own father and mother’s fights flashing behind his eyes. The shouting, the venom in his father’s words, the way his mother would cry in silence afterward. He’d always promised himself he wouldn’t become that man, but here he was, standing on the edge of the same cliff.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Dorian’s voice rose. “I’m doing this for us. For this family. You act like I’m just wasting my time out there, but I’m trying to build something, something that’ll last!”

Naima shook her head, her voice breaking. “I don’t care about that damn machine, Dorian! Kaelen doesn’t need your inventions—he needs you. I need you! But you’re too caught up in your own world to see what’s right in front of you.”

Dorian slammed his fist against the wall, the sound of drywall cracking under the force echoed through the room. Naima jumped, her eyes widening in fear. For a brief second, the kitchen felt like a battleground from his childhood, and he saw his father in himself, saw the way his father’s anger had consumed him, leaving nothing but ruins in its wake.

“I’m not him,” Dorian muttered through clenched teeth, his voice shaking. “I’m not my father.”

Naima’s eyes filled with fresh tears, and she whispered, “But you are, Dorian. You’re turning into him.”

Before he could respond, there was a sound from the hallway. Kaelen stood there, his face tight with a mixture of confusion and anger. He had heard everything. Without hesitation, Kaelen stepped into the room, his posture stiff, protective.

“Yo, you need to back off,” Kaelen said, his voice steady, though his body was tense, every muscle in him coiled. He wasn’t afraid of Dorian. Not like Dorian had been afraid of his own father.

Dorian turned to him, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration. “This ain’t got nothin’ to do with you, Kaelen. Stay out of it.”

But Kaelen didn’t back down. He stepped closer, standing between Naima and Dorian, his eyes locked onto Dorian’s with a fire that Dorian hadn’t expected. “Nah, it’s got everything to do with me. You ain’t about to talk to her like that.”

The room felt charged, like something was about to break, and for a second, Dorian saw a reflection of himself in Kaelen—the anger, the defensiveness. But Kaelen was different. He wasn’t standing in the corner, silent like Dorian had been at his age. He was confronting it, challenging the storm head-on.

Dorian was taken aback. He hadn’t expected Kaelen to step to him like that, hadn’t expected the boy to defend Naima with such intensity. His own father would’ve hit him, would’ve taught him a lesson in “respect” that left bruises. But Dorian wasn’t his father. He wouldn’t repeat that cycle.

He took a step back, lowering his fists, his breath heavy in his chest. “Kaelen, I wasn’t… I wasn’t gonna—”

“Don’t even try it,” Kaelen cut him off, his voice sharp. “You think you’re tough, slammin’ your fist into the wall like that? Tryin’ to scare her? That’s weak, man.”

Dorian’s eyes softened, his anger draining away as he stared at Kaelen. The kid was right. His anger, his outburst—it was weak. And he knew it. But hearing it from Kaelen, hearing the boy stand up to him like that—it was like being hit with a truth he’d been avoiding for years.

Before he could say anything, Naima was already moving, her body trembling as she brushed past both of them, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t stop as she grabbed her coat and keys from the hook by the door. “I’m done, Dorian,” she choked out between sobs. “It’s over.”

The front door slammed behind her, the sound reverberating through the house, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

Dorian stood frozen in place, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline. Kaelen was still watching him, his chest rising and falling rapidly, ready to defend Naima again if necessary. But Dorian wasn’t going to fight. He wasn’t going to push anymore.

He collapsed into a chair at the table, burying his face in his hands. The weight of everything came crashing down at once—his past, his fears, his failures. He had tried so hard not to become his father, and yet here he was, standing in the same ruins, tearing apart the people he loved.

Kaelen stood there for a moment longer, his eyes still narrowed with suspicion. Then, with a quiet shake of his head, he turned and walked away, leaving Dorian alone in the silence.

The faint whirring sound from the machine drew Dorian’s attention, pulling him back to the present. His fingers brushed over the cold metal surface. This invention—the time machine—was supposed to be his redemption, a way to fix everything, to go back and change what couldn’t be undone. But as the truth gnawed at him, Dorian realized that even if he could manipulate time, there were some things that couldn’t be fixed. Some wounds that couldn’t be healed.

Still, a small spark of hope flickered inside him, even in the darkness of his doubts. His hands moved to tighten a few final bolts, making adjustments to the machine’s control panel. As he stood back, taking a deep breath, he wondered if the past truly held the answers he was searching for—or if the answers were still ahead, waiting for him in the uncertain future.

And as the hum of the machine grew louder, Dorian knew there was only one way to find out.