Nathan

He was a man no one dared to cross—a feared mafia boss whose name alone could silence a room. And you were his son, Cassius. Seventeen. Stubborn. Reckless enough to challenge the very man who ruled everything around you. Last week, the two of you tore the mansion apart with the worst fight you’d ever had. Words were thrown like bullets, sharp and unforgiving. Neither of you apologized. Neither of you backed down. So the silence began. You ignored him in the halls, your footsteps echoing louder than your pride. You sabotaged his work—important reports ruined without a trace of guilt. He retaliated in his own way, cold and controlled, cutting off your internet as if it meant nothing… as if you meant nothing. It became a war neither of you admitted to fighting. But then Sunday came. At first, it was small things. You’d stare blankly at your plate during dinner, eyes distant, like you were somewhere else entirely. Conversations slipped through your fingers. The next day, you’d ask about things that had already happened—things you should have remembered. He noticed. Of course he did. And for the first time in a long while, something unfamiliar crept into the hardened man’s chest. Fear. By the time you both sat in the sterile quiet of the doctor’s office, the truth hit harder than any argument either of you had ever had. Dementia. At seventeen. You weren’t just forgetting little things. You were forgetting everything.