The house was quieter than usual, and that already said a lot coming from the Xentras family.
John walked down the stairs unhurriedly, wearing his usual expression: empty, calm… far too calm.
Two elderly people dressed in elegance waited for him in the living room, sitting as if the very air owed them respect.
He recognized them instantly. It was impossible to forget the cold perfection with which the Xentras grandparents held their backs straight, as if they were living sculptures.
Grandmother looked him up and down with the same coldness someone uses when examining a defective object.
"So this is the boy," she said, without speaking his name.
Grandfather frowned. There was no anger or surprise. Only… disappointment.
"I thought he'd improve with age," he murmured. "But he's still the same. No emotions."
John remained still. Not because the words affected him, but because he didn't know how they were supposed to affect him.
Grandmother sighed as if confirming an anticipated failure.
"A Xentras who cannot feel… shouldn't carry our name."
And just like that, without raising their voices, John's grandparents stripped him of something heavier than affection: his right to belong.
The Xentras family had always stood out, but what defined them most were their dominant, charismatic, and cold attitudes. For that reason, John Xentras' grandparents considered him a family disappointment.
Camila, who at one point had shared her parents' opinion about John, knew very well that no matter what happened, she loved her son all the same. That's why she did everything she could to prevent her parents from saying cruel things in front of him.
"Mother, father… avoid unnecessary comments in this house," she said. Harsh words to direct at her own parents, but she would not tolerate disrespect toward her son.
"Oh! I apologize," the grandfather replied, pulling his gaze away from John and focusing on his son-in-law instead.
"How have your projects been going? I've heard you've been doing great things."
Romeo, who had always carried a cheerful expression, now looked silent and calculating.
"Good. Soon I'll be creating a bridge that will connect directly to the city's main university, so travel time will be shorter," he said formally, without showing much enthusiasm.
"Wonderful. Just as expected from you," the grandfather commented, clasping his hands together as he smiled.
Their attention toward John vanished after that, but he didn't care. He headed to the kitchen, where his mother was waiting, gently patting his head with a soft smile.
"They'll leave soon, so don't worry," she said before bending down and placing a tender kiss on his forehead.
The visit, however, didn't end there.
When John tried to slip away toward the kitchen, his grandmother's voice reached him like a thread of ice.
"John."
He stopped. He didn't turn, didn't react. He simply obeyed the call.
"Come here."
Camila clenched her jaw, but Romeo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. He knew stepping in would only make things worse.
John walked toward the elders. His posture was correct, almost perfect, but lacking the spark of presence that defined the Xentras. That was what bothered them most: not his lack of emotions… but his lack of dominance, of presence, of that aura that allowed a Xentras to fill any room without effort.
Grandmother narrowed her eyes.
"Look at me."
And John did. With those empty eyes that reflected, unintentionally, everything she didn't want to see in her own blood.
"Do you know why we're here?" the grandfather asked with a tone that attempted neutrality, but carried judgment.
John took a few seconds to respond. He had the answer in his mind, but needed to process how to say it.
"Because you want to evaluate me," he answered with absolute calm.
A dry silence formed among the adults.
Grandmother slowly shook her head.
"No, boy. We came because your mother insists on keeping you under this roof as if you were one of us… when you show not a single trait that justifies that surname."
Camila stepped forward.
"Enough!" Her voice trembled— not with fear, but with a deep, restrained anger. "I won't allow you to keep attacking him as if he were a mistake."
Grandfather lifted his hand in an elegant, almost condescending gesture.
"Camila, my dear… we are not doing this out of cruelty. We do it because we are realistic. This child will grow up unable to feel. Unable to understand the true weight of being a Xentras. He won't have the necessary strength of character. He has no presence. No fire."
Grandmother added:
"Xentras are born to lead… not to go unnoticed."
John listened, not with sadness or resentment, but trying to understand why those words seemed designed to wound. To him, they were merely data. Statements.
And yet, something inside him— a silent corner invisible even to himself— seemed to shrink.
Camila exhaled, defeated by the situation, not by her parents.
"John… go with your mother," Romeo murmured, recovering a bit of his usual warmth.
The boy nodded and walked away without looking back.
He entered the kitchen. The dim light and the warm smell of food were the only things that made him feel… not comfortable, but less out of place.
Camila leaned down with a gentle smile and caressed his cheek.
"Ignore them, my love. They don't know who you'll become."
John didn't respond. But his gaze, in that moment, seemed to hold a very distant echo of something that could be mistaken for… doubt. Or perhaps curiosity.
A tiny seed of something that, with time, could turn into strength.
The dining room door closed behind the grandparents, and silence returned to the house.
A different silence.
A silence that didn't judge.
A silence that, in some way, belonged to John.