Chapter 5 – Scarlett
The Uber driver dropped me off at the location and drove away soon after, leaving me standing by the sidewalk.
My heart pounded in my chest, my pulse quickening as I stared at the run-down building across from me. I had no idea what awaited me inside, no idea what I’d say to the man after all these years or how I’d even react when I saw him.
Confusion slithered in, making me question my resolve to honor his invitation. Maybe I should just turn back and leave before it was too late. I didn’t owe him anything, and I shouldn’t come running just because he asked to see me.
He had no right to demand anything from me. Not my respect, not my presence, nothing at all. I thought about all the pain his absence from my life had caused, and I suddenly grew bitter. My jaw tightened, accentuating the frown on my face as I felt my blood boil with anger.
Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to leave despite the pain and anger coursing through my veins. My chest was rising and falling, and my fingers had clenched into a fist.
You’re here already. You might as well just go in and see him, a voice whispered in my head. Let’s find out what he wants.
I was curious about why he wanted us to meet, so the voice was right.
My eyes roamed the surroundings, drinking in the serene atmosphere—quiet and peaceful. The sun was setting across the horizon, its golden glow draped over the neighborhood.
I clutched the handle of my handbag slung over my shoulder and let out a soft sigh. “Here goes nothing.” I put one foot in front of me, then another, and another until I found myself walking toward the building.
I headed inside, climbed the stairs, and strolled cautiously through the dimly lit hallway, lit by a single flickering bulb. My flats were soundless on the cracked, dusty floor as I searched for the room number on the address.
Not long after, I spotted the room nearby, and my heart began racing again as I approached it. I stood in front of the door, my hand in the air, knuckles hovering over the surface. After a moment of hesitation, I summoned the courage to knock.
To my surprise, the door creaked slightly open, a foul stench drifting into my nostrils. My brows knitted together in displeasure, my elbow rising to cover my nose.
Maybe this was my cue to turn back and leave, but my curiosity got the best of me. I looked both ways down the corridor before lowering my elbow and daring to step inside.
The air was thick with the smell of stale smoke and something I couldn’t quite place. The living room was a mess with dusty floors, peeling walls, and clothes scattered everywhere.
Judging by how dirty and disheveled the place was, I almost thought that nobody could possibly be living here. Then I heard movements from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of shattering ceramic—like a plate falling off a counter.
“Dang it,” a weary voice murmured.
With quiet footsteps, I stepped closer, craning my neck for a better view. And that was when I tripped over a slippery cloth on the floor. My arms flailed in the air, scrambling for support, an abrupt gasp tearing from my throat. Luckily for me, I managed to catch myself and didn’t hit the ground.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath.
“Who’s there?!” a deep voice thundered, weak but firm enough to scare the shit out of me.
Before I could speak, he emerged from the kitchen with a ceramic plate and a wipe in his hands. His hazel eyes widened in a mix of shock and surprise as he stood there in silence, watching me.
It was him.
He looked thinner than I remembered, weaker and more sickly. His lips were dry and cracked, with bags under his eyes. His bald head seemed to catch the soft light above, his gaze still fixed on me. He looked pale and hunched, the sickness wrapping around him like silk.
“You came,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Silence.
I couldn’t find the right words to say to him right now, and at the same time, I wasn’t sure how seeing him made me feel. I was angry and sympathetic about his current situation. From where I was standing, he looked like a man whose days on earth were numbered. He was dying—that’s for sure.
“Please, take a seat.” He gestured at the worn-out couch beside me.
I couldn’t help noticing the tinge of excitement in his tone when he spoke. And when he moved, it seemed to take a lot of strength to take a step forward.
“I’m sorry about the mess,” he said, referring to the chaotic space. “Just pretend you’re in a palace.” A soft chuckle escaped his lips.
I stared blankly, unimpressed by his dry joke.
“What can I get you?” he asked, standing at a reasonable distance from me.
I liked it—I didn’t want him coming close anyway.
“Nothing. I’m good,” came my reply.
A glint of disappointment flashed across his face, but I couldn’t care less. Quietly, I sat on the nearest couch, hands on my lap as I struggled to mask my irritation.
I could’ve sworn that I heard his bones crack as he sank into the sofa across from me.
What the hell happened to you? I thought, unable to reconcile the man I used to know with this shabby figure sitting in front of me.
“I heard you wrote your final exams yesterday,” he said, his voice laced with a hint of pride. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” I answered.
For the next few seconds, silence fell between us, and I noticed his inability to hold my gaze. It was almost like he was afraid to look me in the eyes, and that’s why his eyes were everywhere but on my face.
“How’s your grandmother?” he asked, his voice filling the awkward silence.
What came next was a cough—one so hoarse and dry it terrified me.
He covered his mouth with a brown handkerchief, his free hand tapping his fist against his chest. “Sorry about that.” He cleared his throat. “How is she?”
I hesitated, my gaze unwavering. “She’s fine.”
He nodded his head. “And you? How have you been?”
That question struck me like a dagger to the heart, forcing my expression to turn dark. “Like you care.”
He faltered, shoulders dropping in dismay. “I do care.”
I shook my head, my heart burning with fury. “You never did before. Why start now?” My voice was low and even but dripping with venom.
He let out an exasperated sigh, fingers rubbing his tired eyes. “I know you have a lot of questions—”
“Like hell I do,” I cut him off, my eyes blazing with fury. “But let’s start with the obvious: Why? Why did you abandon me all these years?”
Pain and regret flickered in his features, but I wasn’t going to back down now.
I continued, “Was I so terrible as a baby—so monstrous that you decided never to be a part of my life?” The words tumbled out of me in a rush. “Why did you hate me so much?” Tears stung my eyes.
“I didn’t hate you, Scar—never have—”
“Then why did you leave me!” I snapped, my voice ringing out louder than I intended.
He paused, his expression soft, eyes blinking as he managed to stare at me. “I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, Scar—horrible, horrible things.” He looked right at me, his voice dripping with regret. “And the worst of them still haunt me every single day.”
He didn’t have to explain further for me to understand what he meant by that. As his words hung in the air, I felt my anger slowly dissolving within me.
“I didn’t ask to see you because I wanted to fight,” he said quietly. “I just wanted to see you. To be with my daughter.”
My jaw locked, chest heaving with uneven breaths as I struggled to fight back the tears that welled in my eyes. His words, his tone, and the look in those eyes touched my spirit. I couldn’t bring myself to press on any longer—at least not yet anyway.
There were still many questions I needed answers to. But it didn’t seem like he was in the right frame of mind to provide me with what I so desperately craved.
He looked lost—confused and miserable.
With his head lowered, he coughed vigorously, his body shaking with the effort. I watched him in silence, a hollow ache swelling within me. Honestly, I hated being around him, especially because he left me with nothing but this lifelong pattern of half-truths and closed doors.
However, despite my pain and resentment, I could ignore the fact that he was in agony. Whether I admitted it or not, it broke my heart to see him like that—broken and alone.
Did he deserve it for what he did to me?
Maybe.
Maybe not.