My brain still hadn't recovered from the shock of what unfolded a few minutes ago. My mind was still in denial.

No… I couldn't believe it.

I couldn't believe that my fingers would no longer feel the soft wood of a painting brush. Or that I would no longer be able to bask in the comforting scent of my oil paints.

I couldn't believe that I would never be able to paint again.

This had to be one of my nightmares. That was what I chose to believe. Nightmares couldn't last forever. Come morning, I would awake and everything would go back to normal—a different type of normal that I've always wanted.

You're not deceiving anyone but yourself Rachel. This is your reality! Normal now equals no painting, don't you get it?!

My inner voice was right. There was no waking up from this type of nightmare. It was a different one—very different.

It was my reality.

This realisation forced even more tears flooding my cheeks and pushed me to remember who exactly caused everything; the person who had placed me in such a dilemma—my very own Papa James.

How could he do this to me?

My stepfather understood me more than anyone else in the family. He knew just how important painting was to me. He was the only one who supported my passion; the person who would happily buy me art materials just so I could paint.

He was the only one I told about my dream to attend the prestigious New York School of Art. He knew that I was meant to create magic on the body of a canvas. That was the sole reason for my existence.

I slept, ate, and breathed art.

How in the world was I supposed give up something that made me feel so fufilled?

No…

My life would become meaningless— more meaningless than it already was.

How am I going to survive?

For as long as I could remember, Mum had always pushed me to study medicine, even though I never showed any interest towards it. I couldn't even bear the sight of blood and this woman wanted me to become a freaking doctor.

She was out of this world!

Although I knew just how adamant she was regarding my career choice, there’s always been this strong belief that one day, she would understand my love for art. One day she would be able to support my passion and encourage my efforts.

This hope had always remained strong in my heart. Nothing had managed to make it waver.

Until now…

Still sobbing profusely, I crawled from where I laid on the floor to a corner of the room between the bed and wall, attempting to make myself as small as possible while crying into my knees.

With swollen eyes as heavy as a truck and a massive headache, I was reminded that crying was not for people like me, but what could I do?

My tears refused to cease. I couldn't stop it even if I tried. Every time I felt like stopping, my brain would create a picture of myself in a doctor's coat and the tears would flood my eyes once again.

“Don't tell me you're still crying, Rachel?” My head lifted from where it was tucked between my knees and my swollen eyes opened with great difficulty to see the person who caused my dilemma.

“This is all your fault!” I cried harder. “You've destroyed everything!”

Papa James lifted me up from the ground and stirred me towards the bed, placing my trembling frame into a sitting position.

“You need to stop crying, Princess. Don't let me remind you how swollen your face looks right now.”

I kept my gaze on my thighs, not ready to acknowledge his presence. But that was impossible as his warm hand made contact with my forehead.

“I'm sure you already have a headache,” he mumbled underneath his breath, like he was talking to himself.

I slapped his hand away. “Who cares about a stupid headache? My life is ruined!”

Shaking my head, I clenched my hands to my face, concealing my features as raking sobs escaped my tightened chest.

Loud wails surrounded the air and—

Wait. Why has Papa James stopped talking? He couldn't have left just like that, could he?

Curiosity forced my hands away from my face, my gaze sliding up to see Papa James still in front of me. His lips were tugged into a beaming smile that rattled my emotions even further.

“Why are you smiling?” I hiccuped between sobs, letting the glare on my face express my displeasure over his reaction to the situation.

What’s there to smile about?!

“I almost forgot how overdramatic you are.” His smile morphed into a slight chuckle that flared up my irritation.

“This is no time for jokes, Papa James! Do you have any idea what you've done? We're talking about my life's purpose here! Because of you I'm gonna become a boring doctor and poke butts for a liv—”

“Calm down, okay? There’s no way you're giving up art. I can't just let your painting skills go to waste.”

“What?” My mouth fell open and I gawked at him.

Did I just hear that right or was he joking?

“No jokes this time, promise.” He lifted both hands in mock surrender and I started to wonder if he had actually heard my thoughts.

“You should know this by now baby, it's my dream just as much as it’s yours to see you doing what you love. Have you forgotten?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” I stammered, unable to contain my surprise. “What about the deal you just made with Mum?”

“Oh, come on, Rachel! Don't you trust me anymore? Remember I always have something up these sleeves of mine?”

“How—”

“It's not something I can explain with words. You have to see it for yourself.” His eyes had begun to gleam mischievously, sparking up my curiosity.

“I-I don't understand?”  My brows dropped into a frown, my face contorting with confusion.

“Just close your eyes for me, okay?” Papa James placed his hands over my eyes, blocking my view of him.

“But why? I don't want to!”

“Trust me. It's a surprise.”

Papa James kept one of his hands over my eyes as he led me out of what I guessed was my room.

My temporary loss of sight was starting to get uncomfortable. That was one of the reasons why I hated surprises. Almost instantly, a familiar surge of panic had started brewing in my veins, clogging my nerves even though I tried my best to push it back.

“Papa James, wait!” I called for us to stop moving and made him release my eyes.

My body shook with immediate relief as soon as the darkness before my eyes was dispersed.

“What's wrong?”

“Can't we just leave my eyes open?”

“But that would make the surprise incomplete!” The lean muscled man in his late thirties whined like a child and I started to feel agitated.

Surprises were the absolute worst. To me, it was just an irrelevant waste of time.

Why not just tell me what it is you want to show me since I'm still going to see it anyways?

Closing my eyes meant letting someone lead me, but I couldn't do that. A million scenarios of the worst things that could happen had already started playing in my mind.

What if you take a wrong step and slip down the stairs to your death?

A shudder coursed through my still form but I managed to conceal it before Papa James could notice.

“Please…” I begged, hoping that he would understand.

“Fine.” His reluctance wasn't hidden. “Let's just go.”

He led me down the stairs, doing nothing to contain the excitement radiating from his larger form in waves. My brain was already jumbled up in confusion.

We got outside, and he started a trek towards the backyard, making me more puzzled than ever.

“Where are you taking me, Papa James?” My question remained unanswered. At least until we got to his destination.

“Surprise!” he exclaimed, gesturing to an old, small, cottage-like structure in the middle of the garden behind the house. The walls were made of wood which looked very weak, and the roof looked rusty.

It looked like it might just collapse any second.

“What’s that?”

“It's your surprise, Princess. Don't you like it?”

I gave him my—are you actually being serious right now—look which he recognised perfectly.

“Come on dear, don't you understand?” He gestured once again towards the shack. “It's the perfect place for your art! I know it looks very old and dusty, but with little cleaning you could turn it into your very own workshop.”

Now I didn't know what to say. Why was the universe trying to play a sadistic joke on me? First Mum made me forfeit painting, so I could attend a normal school. And now Papa James was here, saying that I now have my very own art workshop right behind our house which— mind you, is occupied by the very person who has made painting forbidden in our family.

How is this even possible?

“Why so quiet, Princess? Aren't you excited to finally start painting again?”

“What about Mum?” The first question that came to mind tumbled out of my mouth. “What do I tell her when she sees my artworks in there?”

“Don't worry ‘bout that.” He waved his hands in a dismissal motion. “I told her I would be conducting an experiment on some rodent species there, and you know how much she hates rats. She won't come near here.”

I tried to consider what he said and it did click. Mum really did hate rats, and was seriously scared of them. There was no way she would come anywhere near here after what Papa James told her.

But what if she became suspicious? How would I explain why the shack was packed with paintings instead of dissected rodents?

Stop second-guessing everything you blockhead! The opportunity to finally do what you love has been brought on a silver platter! Papa James said you shouldn't worry. Trust him and forget about your Mum!

My argumentative inner voice managed to rid my mind of all worries, replacing it with nothing but sheer joy and excitement.

That's right. He said I shouldn't worry, so I'm not going to.

“Thank you so much Papa James!” I flung my arms around his neck in a tight embrace. “You truly are the best step-dad ever!”

“Yes, yes, I know.” His voice dripped with enough ego for me to know that he was feeling damn good about himself.

And I was feeling damn good myself.

Still wrapped up in his comforting arms, I couldn't help but wonder what selfless deed I must have committed in my previous life—a very great deed I’m sure—for fate to have blessed me with a step-father like my Papa James. My father figure and best friend—all in one body.

How can I get any luckier than this?!

I knew nothing about my biological father, not his name, age or even what he looked like.

Apparently, he abandoned his eighteen-year-old, pregnant girlfriend because he was too young to take on the responsibility of being a father.

Mum hated him to pieces and refused to talk about him to anyone. Even Papa James knew nothing about that man. If you ask me, I had no interest whatsoever in getting to know the person whose sperm contributed to my conception.

Why would I? I had Papa James; a great stepfather who would do anything to make me happy. He was more than enough.

With so much happiness exploding in my heart, I pulled away from Papa James still flashing an uncontrollable smile.

“Tell me what you want, Papa James. Anything, I'll do it.”  I stated with utmost seriousness to the best human in my life.

“Well…” He placed his forefinger on his chin in order to appear lost in thought. “If you're so grateful, then do one thing for me.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to stop calling me Papa James. I'm not even old enough to be your grandfather, so why call me Papa?”

I groaned. “Not gonna happen. Ask for something else… Anything except that.”

I’ve always called him Papa James since the first day Mum brought him home, saying he was going to be my new father.  How could I stop now?

“Please... Princess, that’s the only thing I want. Do you know how embarrassing it is when you call me that in public? I can't take it anymore!”

“Hmm…” I tapped my chin with my index finger. “I'll think about it… Papa James.”

“You brat!” He reached out to grab me, but I ducked with a loud laugh.

Running to the other side of the garden, I couldn't help but tease him. “Don't get too hostile, Papa!”

“I'll get you for that!” He rushed to where I was, but I fled before he could reach me.

We ran like that for a long time until Mum called us in for lunch.

The joy in my heart was ceaseless, and it made the food even more delicious.

“A happy heart and a happy stomach makes life easier and longer.”

Still not sure who said that quote but it was the best definition of how I felt. My life had been made easier and happier by my dear Papa James.

Nothing and no one could take his place.

Because I really did have the best step-dad ever!

***
Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did.

What do you think about Papa James? (Weird name, I know). It actually felt good writing about a stepdad that is not evil.

But I wanted to ask: What is your take on Papa James' decision to help Rachel fulfil her dream?

Do you think he did the right thing?
Or are you of the notion that he shouldn't have gone behind his wife's back like that?