The humid air of the solicitor's office felt thick against Elias’s skin. He tugged at the collar of his shirt, the fabric suddenly feeling too tight. His sister, Clara, sat across from him, her face a mask of polite composure, which only served to irritate him further. He hadn't spoken to her in a week, not since their mother's passing. The lawyer, a thin man with a receding hairline, cleared his throat. "So, as per your mother's wishes…" He trailed off, then continued. "Elias, your portion includes the family home, and…" Elias felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He’d hoped, truly hoped, for something else, something… more.
Clara, however, got the vineyard. The sprawling, sun-drenched vineyard that had been their mother's passion. Elias’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests of his chair, the leather squeaking in protest. He mumbled something about needing to step outside.
The parking lot was scorching, and he leaned against his car, the metal searing his back. He ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated gesture that did nothing to quell the churning in his gut. He was left with the house, the memories, the weight of responsibility, and Clara… got the good life.