CHAPTER 413: CHAPTER 413 FEELING USELESS

Adrian, on the other hand, had quietly grown into someone Ruby could depend on. He had learned the ropes of her work so well that she no longer had to shoulder every task alone. He was steady, organized, and calm—able to take charge of projects with a quiet strength that gave her relief she didn’t realize she had been craving. Whenever she found herself overwhelmed, Adrian was the one who eased the load, offering not just help but genuine reliability.

And then there was Julian, the quiet support holding them all together. He didn’t chase the spotlight like Karl or Kaelan, nor did he lose himself completely in one pursuit like Milo. Instead, Julian became the grounding figure, the one who made sure the house never felt empty. He stayed home more often, waiting for the others to return, ready with a warm smile and a listening ear. His presence was soft but essential—the kind of comfort that reminded them all that no matter how chaotic the outside world became, they always had a place to come back to.

In their own ways, each of them was moving forward. And Ruby, watching it all unfold, felt both the weight of her responsibilities and the quiet warmth of pride.

***

Meanwhile, though Julian was quietly enjoying the growing intimacy he shared with Ruby, the outside world wasn’t so kind. In the village, whispers always carried fast, and the ones that reached his ears were never easy to swallow. People praised Karl for his charm and boldness, admired Adrian for his calm brilliance, and applauded Milo for his rising talent as an artist. But when they spoke of Julian... most only sighed or shrugged. Some even went as far as to call him useless, a ghost with no talent of his own.

He never said anything aloud, never let it show when Ruby or the others were around, but the words dug deep. On days when the house was empty and he was left alone, the silence pressed on him heavier than walls. He tried to fill it with something—anything—to prove to himself he wasn’t worthless. Once, he picked up brushes and paints, hoping to copy Milo’s passion, but the strokes came out uneven and lifeless, nothing close to Milo’s glowing canvases. Another time, he sat down with papers, trying to make sense of numbers the way Adrian did so easily, but the lines blurred together until frustration drove him to push the pages aside.

Even when he tried standing before a mirror to mimic Karl’s confident gestures, his voice faltered, his body stiff, and the reflection staring back at him only deepened his doubt. He couldn’t act. He couldn’t calculate. He couldn’t paint.

Each attempt only reminded him of what he wasn’t, and slowly, a heaviness began to grow in his chest. He told himself to be happy for his brothers—he was happy for them but at the same time, he couldn’t ignore the quiet ache that came from always being the one without a role, without work, without something to call his own.

And so, when evening came and the others returned with stories of progress, laughter, and new achievements, Julian smiled softly and listened. But deep inside, when no one else could see, he carried the fear that maybe the world was right about him that he was the only one who had nothing to offer.

It was afternoon, and the house was unusually silent. Milo was away at his master’s home, no doubt excitedly working on another painting; Ruby and Adrian were at the office, buried in deadlines and projects; Karl was on set, surrounded by lights, cameras, and people who admired him. And Julian... he was alone.

He sat on the couch, staring at nothing in particular, his back slouched, his hands resting limply on his knees. A heavy, pressing feeling lingered in his chest, one that seemed to tighten more the longer the silence stretched. The house, which usually felt warm when filled with laughter and voices, now felt suffocating. Every creak of the wooden beams, every faint sound from the street outside, only deepened the quiet inside him.

Julian rubbed his palms together restlessly, then pressed them against his chest as if he could push away the discomfort that was gnawing at him. He tried to distract himself—his eyes drifted toward the books stacked in the corner, the paints Milo had left on the shelf, the notes Ruby had scribbled across her coffee table but each thing only reminded him of what he wasn’t. Milo’s brushes whispered of talent he didn’t have. Ruby’s notes spoke of responsibilities he couldn’t shoulder. Adrian’s files showed numbers he couldn’t make sense of. And Karl’s scripts notes, carelessly tossed aside on the cabinet platform, seemed to mock him with the confidence and charisma he lacked.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers pressing hard against his temples. "What am I even doing..." he muttered under his breath, the words sounding too loud in the empty room.

The silence gave him no answer, only deepened the ache in his chest. He tried to think of something he could do, anything to prove to himself he wasn’t useless. He thought of painting, but the last time he tried, the canvas ended up smudged and pathetic compared to Milo’s glowing work. He thought of writing down numbers, but Adrian made it look effortless while he felt like a child fumbling through lessons. He even thought of acting, but whenever he tried to imitate Karl, his own reflection in the mirror had made him wince.

He dropped back against the couch, covering his face with his hands, a frustrated sound escaping his throat. The room felt colder, emptier, and he couldn’t shake the gnawing thought—everyone else has something... and I have nothing.

His chest tightened further, the uncomfortable weight pressing harder, like it wanted to crush him from the inside. He didn’t even realize his eyes were stinging until he blinked, and the tears blurred the ceiling above him. He quickly rubbed them away, angry at himself for even crying, but the feeling wouldn’t leave. It was loneliness, yes, but deeper than that—it was the fear that maybe he really was useless, the one person who didn’t belong in the shining lives of the people he loved.

And as the afternoon sun shifted, shadows stretching across the floor, Julian sat there unmoving, the silence wrapping around him like chains, the weight in his chest making it hard to breathe.

To be continued... 🪄