Chapter 20 [IGNORANT]
The small bell above the bookstore door chimed softly as I stepped inside, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of paper and ink. The warmth of the store wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, momentarily soothing the nerves I knew would spike once I reached Greenwich.
Today wasn't going to be easy—facing my family never was—but I wanted to make it special for Sapphire.
The book I'd pre-ordered for her had arrived, a rare collector's edition of a fantasy novel she adored. As I approached the counter, a young attendant greeted me with a polite smile.
"Good morning! Are you here to pick up an order?"
"Yes," I replied, giving her my name.
"One moment, let me grab it for you." She disappeared into the backroom, leaving me alone at the counter.
My gaze wandered over the aisles, the soft hum of jazz playing in the background. I had time. Maybe I'd find something for myself.
I drifted through the shelves, trailing my fingers along the spines of the books. Titles ranged from the obscure to the beloved classics, each one holding a world waiting to be explored.
My hand paused on an old paperback with an alluring, slightly worn cover. I pulled it out and flipped it over to read the blurb.
Secrets of Midnight.
The name alone hinted at the steamy romance and forbidden encounters tucked away in its pages. My cheeks warmed, and I couldn't suppress a small grin.
It had been a long time since I indulged in something so...erotic and intriguing. Mischief bubbled up inside me, and for a fleeting moment, my mind replayed the kiss I'd shared with Alex.
The memory came unbidden, the warmth of his lips and the heat of his hand on my waist. My breath hitched, and I quickly shook my head to dispel the thought. Heat crept up my neck.
Snapping the book shut, I decided to take it with me. As I turned to head back to the counter, I collided with something solid—no, someone.
"Ah!" I squeaked, stumbling back a step.
"Careful," a familiar voice rumbled, smooth and low.
"Damian?" My pulse quickened as I looked up, startled. He stood there, close enough to block my path, his dark eyes trained on me with an intensity that sent a ripple of unease through my chest.
The suddenness of his presence was jarring, but what truly unsettled me was the look on his face. His nose was scrunched, as if he'd caught a whiff of something foul.
I instinctively glanced around, but nothing smelled off to me. When I looked back at him, his expression had already softened, his features smoothing into a calm mask.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, masking my nervousness with a curt tone.
For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze lingering on me in a way that felt... off. Then, finally, he spoke. "I could ask you the same thing."
The deflection grated on my nerves. "I'm here to pick up a book. Not that it's any of your business."
Damian tilted his head, studying me. "How are you doing, Ruby?"
There was a strange weight to his words, as if he were asking something deeper than the polite pleasantry suggested. I bristled under his scrutiny. "I'm fine," I said sharply. "If you'll excuse me—"
I moved to step past him, but his hand shot out, gently but firmly grasping my wrist. The contact sent a jolt through me, not of warmth, but something colder. Something sharp. I froze.
"Ruby," he murmured, leaning in close. His voice was low, almost a whisper, and his breath ghosted against my ear. "Be careful. He's not who you think he is."
The words sank into me like a stone dropped in still water, ripples of unease spreading outward. My heart pounded as a chill crept up my spine.
"What are you talking about?" I demanded, yanking my hand free from his grip. My voice was sharper now, edged with fear and irritation. "And while we're at it, stop doing this. Our sessions are over, Damian. You don't have a reason to keep following me. If you don't stay away, you'll leave me no choice but to act."
He didn't reply immediately, his gaze steady and unreadable. For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his expression—regret, maybe—but it was gone before I could be sure. He straightened, finally giving me space to walk away.
My hands were trembling by the time I made it back to the counter, where the attendant had just returned with my order.
"Here it is!" she said brightly, setting the book down.
"Thank you," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Morning, Damian," the attendant added with a cheerful wave.
I froze, glancing back over my shoulder to see that he had followed me. He stood a few feet away, his presence looming even at that distance.
"Morning," Damian replied, his tone easy and light, contrasting to the tension crackling between us moments earlier.
"Donating more books today?" the attendant asked, clearly familiar with him.
He nodded. "I've been sorting through the collection at my house. There's plenty left to share."
The attendant smiled. "You always bring such interesting finds. How do you have so many vintage books?"
Damian shrugged. "Old house."
I didn't wait to hear more. The attendant handed me my receipt and Sapphire's book. I placed the paperback I'd picked up on the counter, deciding I didn't need another reason to linger.
"Thanks again," I said curtly, turning on my heel and walking out without looking back.
I felt his gaze on me as I left, burning into the back of my neck. The unease didn't leave even as I climbed into my car and started the engine. My hands gripped the wheel tightly, knuckles whitening as I exhaled a shaky breath.
Shaking my head, I pushed the encounter from my mind and focused on the road ahead. I had more important things to worry about—like my family.
📚📚
The familiar white fence of my family home came into view as I parked my car along the curb. My heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.
I stepped out of the car, adjusting the strap of my bag, I knocked twice before pushing the door open.
Inside, the warmth of home wrapped around me. Mama was on the sofa, her embroidery hoop in hand, her fingers deftly weaving a colorful thread into an intricate design. The sight brought a small smile to my lips.
She glanced up, her face lighting up with a warm smile.
"Baby!" she exclaimed, setting her stitching aside and rising to her feet.
Before I could respond, a young woman stepped out of the kitchen carrying a plate of food and a glass of juice. She wore a crisp white uniform, her demeanor calm and professional.
"You must be Ruby," she said, her smile reaching her eyes. "I'm Nurse Colette. It's nice to finally meet you."
"Nice to meet you too," I replied, my tone polite but warm.
Mama appeared next to me, her movements deliberate but steady. "I'm so glad to see you again my dear."
I stepped into her open arms, and her embrace was just as grounding as I remembered. The scent of lavender clung to her, a familiar comfort that melted the tension from my shoulders.
The thudding of hurried footsteps down the stairs made me look up just in time to see Sapphire barreling toward me. I barely had time to brace myself before she flung herself into my arms.
"Ruby!" she squealed.
"Hey, Blue!" I laughed, spinning her around before setting her down. She hugged me fiercely, and I felt my heart swell with a familiar warmth.
Hugging Mama and Blue never got old; it was as if each embrace filled a piece of the void I hadn't realized was there.
"I'm so happy you're here!" Sapphire exclaimed.
"Me too," I replied, pulling back just enough to see her wide grin. From my bag, I pulled out the book and handed it to her. "Look what I got for you."
Her eyes widened as she grabbed it, running her fingers over the cover. "No way! A collector's edition? Ruby, thank you!"
Before she could hug me again, Mama's voice rang out.
"Ah-ah, young lady," Her tone firm but loving. "You'll read that after you've finished studying for your exams."
Blue whined, hugging the book to her chest. "But I've been studying all morning, Mama! I need a break."
"No 'buts,' young lady," Mama said, crossing her arms. "You can take a break to eat, and then back to studying."
I stepped in gently, placing a hand on Sapphire's shoulder. "Mama's right, Blue. Your exams are important. The book will still be here waiting for you when you're done."
Sapphire sighed, her pout firmly in place. "Fine," she muttered, dragging her feet as she headed toward the kitchen.
"And grab a plate of food while you're in there!" Mama called after her.
"Okay!" Sapphire shouted back.
Mama turned to me with a smile that quickly softened into something more thoughtful. "Come, Baby. Sit. How was your week?"
"It was good," I replied, offering her a small smile. "Busy, but good."
We fell into easy small talk, the kind that made me momentarily forget the tension that had weighed on me earlier. But as the minutes passed, I couldn't hold back the question that had been gnawing at me.
"Did Donald say anything?" I asked carefully.
Mama's smile faltered, a shadow passing over her features. She glanced at the nurse, who took the hint and quietly gathered her things. "I'll be in the backyard if you need me," she said before slipping out the back door.
Mama's attention shifted to Sapphire, who had just emerged from the kitchen with her plate. "Young lady, take your food upstairs."
Sapphire hesitated, her fingers lingering on the cover, but the look Mama gave her was enough.
"Leave it." Mama said firmly.
Blue pouted but obeyed, trudging up the stairs with a theatrical sigh. The house grew quiet, the hum of the ceiling fan the only sound.
Mama still wouldn't meet my eyes as she began, "You know, it hurts me very much. Seeing my children like this—fighting, not speaking to each other. I raised you to look out for each other, not... this."
Her voice trembled, and she set the embroidery aside.
I took a deep breath, keeping my voice steady.
"Mama, I've tried. I've tried to understand Donald's motives, but no matter how I look at it, nothing makes sense. Nothing justifies what he did."
Her shoulders slumped slightly as she looked down at her hands.
"Does Papa know about what Donald did?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly as I braced for her answer.
Mama's mouth opened as if to respond, but before a single word could escape, a deep, familiar voice carried down from above.
"Yes, Lily. I'm aware of what your brother has been up to."
My breath caught, and I instinctively turned toward the stairs.
There he was, standing at the top, his presence as commanding as ever. Slowly, he began his descent, each step deliberate, his hand brushing the bannister lightly.
He wore a grey t-shirt under a corduroy jacket, paired with denim pants and a sturdy belt. His receding hairline and grey-speckled beard gave him a distinguished look, though his slight belly betrayed his well-fed state.
Despite it all, he still carried himself with the air of someone who had spent a lifetime commanding respect.
"Papa," I whispered, rising to my feet as I took him in.
"Lily," he said, his voice steady, heavy with unspoken emotion.
Hearing him say my middle name sent a wave of conflicting feelings crashing over me. Memories of his strength, his guidance, and his pride in me mingled with the bitter echo of his last words the night I left.
I fought hard to suppress them, focusing instead on the warmth of seeing him again, standing here before me.
He stopped a few paces away, his gaze fixed on me. "Sit, Lily," he said, his tone softer than I expected.
I obeyed, perching on the edge of the sofa.
The sound of footsteps descending the staircase pulled my focus, my breath catching as Donald appeared.
His expression was unreadable, a mask that gave away nothing, and it only made my stomach tighten further.
Papa, ever the stoic presence, lowered himself into his armchair with deliberate precision, each movement heavy with unspoken thoughts. Donald, meanwhile, perched himself on the bay window sill behind him, his posture stiff, his face a blank slate.
Papa's sigh cut through the tension in the room like a blade, quiet but resonant, the kind of sound that carried years of weariness.
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the ceiling fan's rhythmic whir and the faint hum of life outside. I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it harder to speak. But I had to.
I cleared my throat, forcing the words out before I could second-guess myself.
"My visit today depended on what he did or didn't say," I began, my voice steady but strained. "That's why I had to inquire."
Papa's eyes sharpened as they settled on me, unwavering and searching. His voice, when it came, was calm but steeped in disappointment.
"Donald had a lot to say," he admitted, his words deliberate, cutting through me like ice. "And I don't know what breaks my heart more—whether it was the fact that it took seeing your mother break down in tears before he finally spoke up, or that when he told his whole ordeal, there wasn't a single show of remorse on his face."
The air thickened with the weight of his words. I felt it pressing down on me, making it harder to breathe. Papa's gaze lingered on mine for a moment before he stood, his movement slow and deliberate.
Every step he took toward me was a reminder of the authority he carried, of the depth of his disappointment. His face softened ever so slightly, but it only made the tension worse.
"The last time we saw each other," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant, "a lot of things were said. I know I said many things in the heat of the moment. And while my reaction was valid—considering I've always tried to be a good role model for you and your siblings—I need you to understand something."
He stopped a few steps away, his gaze locking onto mine. His words felt heavier now, his tone softer but no less stern. "I had the right to discipline you. But Lily, even with all my anger, I don't remember ever telling you to leave this house."
My breath hitched, my heart sinking under the weight of his words. I had to look away, my eyes burning with unshed tears.
He continued, his voice steady but laced with pain. "No matter how angry I get, I would never find it in my heart to tell my own children to leave their family. Yet you made that decision so easily."
I felt the sting of those words deep in my chest, my defenses crumbling.
He took another step closer, his presence commanding, and pointed toward Donald, who sat stiffly on the sill, his jaw tight, his eyes avoiding mine.
"What hurt me even more," Papa continued, his voice rising slightly, "was why you would take his words—his lies—and let them dictate your actions."
He turned back to me, his expression hardening. "Why would you think he had any authority to tell you to leave, or to prevent you from coming back home? Even despite his lies, what stopped you from barging through that door, demanding to know why you weren't allowed in your own home?"
I couldn't answer.
Shame curled around me like a noose, choking the words before they could form.
My gaze dropped to the floor, and I felt the heat rise to my face.
He was right. Every word he said was right.
I had let my emotions control me, let my pain cloud my judgment. I'd been too proud, too afraid to fight for my place in this family. The power to bring us back together had been in my hands all along, and I'd done nothing.
Mama's voice cut through the tension, her tone firm but gentle. "Julian, that's enough," she said, using his name in that rare way she did when she meant business. "You've made your point. Stop blaming her."
Papa turned slightly, holding up a hand to silence her. His voice remained resolute. "Anne," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "I have a right as a responsible parent to discipline my children when I see them going astray."
He hesitated then, his voice faltering slightly before he continued.
Turning back to me, his eyes softened, though his expression remained serious. "Whenever I corrected you, Ruby, it was out of love—not because of what anybody else thought or said. I saw my daughter walking a path that would lead to her sacrificing her soul for material things. And instead of staying with her family, where she'd be looked after, she left. That decision broke my heart."
The tears I'd been holding back threatened to spill over. My chest felt tight, my breaths shallow as the full weight of his words settled over me. The guilt, the shame, the regret—it all came crashing down at once.
I had hurt them both so deeply, had made them carry this heartache for so long. And now, faced with the truth, all I could do was stare at the floor in shame.
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