Chapter 14
Rafael
A few weeks after our wedding and the subsequent massage session with its mind-blowing intensity, I found myself sitting across from my new husband and his aunt Mara at an intimate table in a posh restaurant downtown. The atmosphere was tense, to say the least.
Mara had requested this dinner as a chance for us all to become acquainted with each other now that the marriage was official. However, based on the icy glare she kept shooting me over the rim of her wine glass, I suspected she simply wanted an excuse to grill Anan about his habits and routines in the hopes of catching him out in some misdeed. What she would gain from doing that, I had no idea.
"So tell me, dear nephew," Mara began as though nothing threatening was happening, but I could hear the underlying steel in her voice that signaled this was anything but a casual query. "How are you finding life married to Rafael? I know he has very particular needs and desires..." She trailed off, one sculpted brow arched as she looked at me.
She didn't know anything about me—the bitchy liar, I thought. Meanwhile, without showing it, I merely pretended we were friends.
Beside me, Anan shifted in his seat, the color rising in his cheeks as he ducked his head. I wanted to reach out and squeeze his hand in reassurance but knew that it would only make matters worse.
"He's been very generous with his time and consideration," Anan mumbled after a pause, clearly struggling for the right words. "I've never known someone so attentive or caring before." The pride and genuine affection in his tone made my chest swell with emotion even as Mara scoffed. She really thought so little of him.
"Yes, well, I'm sure that's all very touching," she said with an exaggerated eye roll. "But a man of Rafael's caliber has very specific... demands, shall we say." Her gaze flicked to me before returning to Anan. "Tell me, nephew, have his nocturnal habits begun to interfere with your own sleep cycles and recovery? It would not surprise me given the… intensity of his desires."
Anan paled visibly at that, squirming even more in his seat as he cast a desperate glance my way. I wished I could help without causing a scene.
I could see the mortification warring with confusion in his eyes, clearly unsure how much to reveal about our private activities to his aunt. There was nothing to be revealed, I thought.
"He hasn't mentioned anything like that to me," Anan hedged before adding, "Not that it's any of your business what goes on between us behind closed doors." The defiance in his voice surprised even him as he stood up to his aunt in a way I had never seen him do before.
Mara snorted at the challenge. "You forget yourself, young man," she snapped, leaning forward to jab a manicured finger at Anan's chest. "I'm still your aunt. His behavior is very much my concern if it impacts your well-being and health. I care about you, after all."
"And that's where you're wrong," I cut in, reaching across the table to catch Mara's wrist in an unbreakable grip as she was about to slap Anan. "Anan is a grown man now—married to me—and his personal life is none of your concern unless he invites it." Her eyes flashed with rage at my interference but I held her gaze, refusing to back down.
"The boy needs to learn discipline and control," Mara argued hotly even as she struggled to pull free of my grasp. "He has a terrible habit of indulging his whims without any thought for the consequences or propriety. It's time he was taken in hand-"
"I've had quite enough of this conversation," I interrupted, releasing her wrist.
Mara leaned back in her chair, schooling her features into a mask of calm serenity once more as she smoothed a non-existent wrinkle from her pristine dress. She was not used to being spoken to in such a manner, but she knew better than to push further when faced with an alpha like me.
"Very well," she conceded, her smile brittle yet determined. "If you insist on changing the topic, then let us discuss something far more pleasant—a trip down memory lane, perhaps?"
What the hell was she planning? I wondered.
Anan glanced between us, sensing the abrupt shift in tension while not voicing it. He was smart. Better not to make a move unless he was certain.
"My dear nephew," Mara continued, turning her attention fully onto Anan as if I wasn't there anymore. I wondered for how much longer she could keep pretending that. "Do you remember those lovely summers we spent together at our family estate when you were just a child?" She reached out to pat his hand, a gesture that made my hackles rise despite knowing she was putting on a show for her benefit.
"What a charming little boy you were," she reminisced, her eyes taking on a distant glow as if lost in a fond memory. "Always running around barefoot and full of energy, exploring every inch of the property while I watched over you with loving concern."
I groaned at that.
Anan nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he seemed to relax under her renewed affections. Hmm… what? Was he really falling for her lies and manipulations? I thought he knew better.
"Yes, I remember," he murmured more to himself than to her. "Those were happy times."
It was clear that he was too wrapped up in nostalgia to notice the subtle manipulation happening right before his eyes. I knew he could be nostalgic sometimes, but didn't think it was going to cloud his judgment like it was now.
Mara was painting herself as the doting aunt who had dedicated her life to raising him and nurturing him, leaving out the part where she neglected him until he ended up in my hands. Being with me was when he finally felt happy for the first time in his life.
"But do you also recall how often you would wake up in the middle of the night, crying and disoriented?" Mara asked, her expression turning serious as she fixed Anan with a concerned gaze. "The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with you, so they suspected it might be some sort of psychological trauma. I was so worried."
Anan paused, frowning as he tried to dig through his memories for any hint of what she was talking about. "No, I don't think I ever did that," he said after a few seconds of ponderation, shaking his head. "At least, not that I know of."
Mara sighed so loudly that other people stopped what they were doing just to glance at her, reaching up to press a hand to her forehead as if overcome by sudden exhaustion. "Oh, how I wish that were true," she lamented. "But unfortunately, it happened frequently enough that I started keeping a journal of all your strange behaviors and habits during your formative years. You were always such a sensitive soul, after all."
She reached into her clutch bag and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook, placing it on the tablecloth between them. Anan stared at it with wide-eyed disbelief, caught off guard by her revelation. I couldn't blame him.
"You kept a record of... of my nightmares?" He stammered, reaching out to trace the embossed letters on the cover. "Why would you do that? And why am I only hearing about this now?"
Mara shrugged, as if it was no big deal. "As your guardian, it was my duty to document any unusual occurrences that could impact your development or mental health," she explained as though there was nothing wrong with her behavior. "And as for why I'm sharing it with you now... Well, I suppose I wanted you to understand the lengths I went to ensure your well-being, even when you may not have been aware of it."
She shot me a pointed glance, daring me to contradict her. As if I would stoop to her level and argue about who cared for Anan more. That was beneath me. Plus, we both knew the answer.
"So, tell me, nephew," Mara pressed, leaning forward eagerly as she opened the journal to some random page filled with neat, precise notes written in her own handwriting. "What do you make of these observations here? Does anything jog your memory or shed new light on your past?"
I watched as Anan scanned the lines, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing moment. Whatever was written inside that book, it troubled him.
And in the meantime, I wished we could communicate using only our minds. I would be telling him everything that was going on, and how he was being manipulated.
"It doesn't say much really," he muttered, closing the journal before pushing it away across the table towards Mara. "Just dates and brief descriptions of dreams I supposedly had. Nothing concrete or specific." His voice wavered, betraying his unease.
"That's because your subconscious mind didn't want to reveal its secrets too easily," Mara replied, tucking the journal back into her bag. "But now that you're older and hopefully wiser, maybe you'll start to see patterns emerging from the chaos. Perhaps you'll begin to understand yourself on a deeper level."
Or maybe you'll realize just how fucked up your childhood truly was thanks to your neglectful aunt, I thought. But I kept my thoughts to myself, allowing Anan to grapple with whatever revelations he was having.
Anan sat back in his chair, his face pale and tense as he absorbed Mara's words. The mention of his supposed night terrors and the existence of the journal had clearly shaken him, leaving him looking almost haunted. I could see the way his stomach churned, making him appear a little green around the gills. It was like he was reliving something deeply unpleasant.
"Anan,"I began, reaching out to take his hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze."Are you alright? You look a bit pale."
He looked up at me with those large, grey eyes filled with turmoil, and I saw the flicker of gratitude pass through them at the break he was getting. At least he still trusted me despite his aunt's best efforts to sow doubt.
"I'm fine,"he murmured, trying to sound more convinced than he probably felt."It's just... unexpected, that's all. I never knew about this journal or my supposed nightmares. Why is she only bringing this up now?"
His aunt answered before I could."Well, dear, I thought it was important for you to understand your past better,"she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to spring something like this on someone during dinner."Especially now that you're married to Rafael. These insights might help you both navigate certain challenges that may arise in your future together."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her ridiculous explanation. She was grasping at straws to try and insert herself back into Anan's life, and I wouldn't stand for it.