9. Selena
SELENA
For one whole minute the kitchen goes quiet.
Then Mom’s voice comes out quiet and broken.
“How long?”
“A month,” Soren answers. His head remains bowed. Neither of us can look her in the eyes.
Mom’s face falls in stages, the color draining out of it until she looks almost gray.
She covers her mouth with both hands as if she can push the sound back inside, but the tears still come fast and hard, spilling over her fingers and down her wrists.
Her shoulders start shaking so violently that the rest of her body follows.
“Oh God… oh God…”
She keeps saying it under her breath, over and over. Her eyes move from the ruined apron hanging off my body to the milk still dripping down my stomach, then to Soren trying to zip up his jeans with hands that aren’t steady.
I try to pull the apron up higher. It doesn’t help. The thin fabric is soaked and twisted and does nothing to cover me.
My own eyes start burning the second I feel her staring at me. Guilt hits so hard it feels physical, like someone just reached into my chest and squeezed. I wrap my arms around myself, pressing the ruined apron tighter against my breasts.
I can’t stop the tears once they start. They fall hot and silent down my cheeks while I stand there half-naked in front of my stepmother.
Soren steps toward her. He doesn’t say anything. He just reaches out like he wants to steady her, or apologize, or both.
Mom pulls back as if his hands burn. Then she starts hitting him. Fast, open-handed slaps across both sides of his face while she’s still crying. The sounds land sharp and ugly in the quiet kitchen.
He doesn’t raise his hands. He doesn’t step away. He just takes it until her arms give out.
She slides down the wall and sits there with her face buried in her hands, sobbing so hard the sound doesn’t even form words anymore.
Soren stays standing between us, quiet now.
He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t look at her. He just stands there like he’s waiting for the next blow.
I wipe my face with the back of my hand, but it doesn’t do much.
Mom is on the floor crying because of what we did.
No one speaks for a long time.
The silence is worse than the shouting that will come later.
Early in the evening, after waiting for Dad to come home, the four of us sit at the dining table.
Mom sits to my left. Dad stands behind his chair at the head of the table. Soren sits across from me. I’m in the chair closest to the kitchen doorway.
Two flower bouquets sit in the middle of the table.
Both have small cards with my name written in Soren’s handwriting.
One is half-wilted. The other is still fresh.
Because of those cards we can’t deny it.
Just like we can’t pretend this isn’t happening anymore.
Not with Mom walking in on us this morning.
Not with the housekeeper standing right there as a witness.
Rosa stands near the sideboard, hands folded. She won’t look at any of us for long.
Dad hasn’t said a word yet. He hasn’t sat down for twenty minutes. He keeps pacing behind his chair. The look in his eyes tells me exactly how angry he is.
Mom’s eyes are swollen. She stares at the flowers like they’re the only safe place to look. Every few seconds her shoulders tremble and she presses her fingers harder against her mouth, as if she’s trying to keep the sound of her crying inside.
Dad stops pacing. He points at Rosa.
“Tell them what you told me.”
Rosa clears her throat and takes one step closer to the table.
“It was a month ago. The day I went upstairs to get Selena for breakfast. I knocked on her door. Told her to come down. She said she would. Then I went to Mr. Soren’s room to call him also.
He wasn’t there. Bed was made. Room was empty.
I came back downstairs and when I reached the second floor landing, I saw Mr. Soren coming out of Miss Selena’s room.
He closed the door quiet. He didn’t see me and went straight down for breakfast too. ”
She pauses.
“I shrugged it off at the time. Thought maybe he was just checking on her.”
Silence settles over the table. I can feel my pulse in my throat. The memory of that morning—the shower, the milk, the way he looked at me—flashes through my mind and makes the guilt sit even heavier in my chest.
Dad signals Rosa to leave. She nods once, then quietly steps out of the room and closes the door behind her.
Dad finally pulls out his chair and sits. He looks straight at Soren.
“You were in her room that day?”
Soren answers, eyes looking away. “Yes.”
Dad rubs the back of his neck and lets out a heavy sigh. The sound is tired and furious at the same time.
“Didn’t you know better? You’re way older than her. She’s barely an adult. You fucking took advantage of her.”
Soren stays quiet. He doesn’t defend himself. He just sits there with his jaw tight and his eyes on the table.
Dad looks between the two of us. His voice rises.
“I doubt you weren’t aware of the consequences. You should’ve stopped this before it started. You had every chance to walk away. Instead, you kept going. Under my roof. While I sat at this same table and trusted both of you.”
Still nothing from Soren. He stays locked in place across the table, jaw tight, eyes fixed on the wood like the grain might give him an answer.
Mom makes a small, broken sound beside me. She won’t look at either of us. Tears keep sliding down her face in thin, endless lines. I want to reach for her hand, but I don’t. My fingers stay curled in my lap because I know if I touch her right now she’ll pull away. And I understand that.
Dad’s tone drops lower, colder.
“I can take this to court. Statutory issues. Anything. I’ll do whatever I have to. You think you can just walk in here, put your hands on my daughter, and walk away clean? You’re wrong.”
He starts looking around the table for his phone.
Mom reaches across and grabs his arm, tears already falling harder.
“Rick, please. Don’t. Not like this.”
He pulls his arm free from her grip. Mom can’t stop him. She sinks back into her seat, shoulders shaking, and covers her face with both hands.
Soren finally speaks up just as Dad is about to dial his phone.
“I love her. I love your daughter, Rick.”
Dad stares at him across the table.
“How dare you say that. You never even tried to treat me like a father. Barely call me your dad.”
Soren keeps his tone even.
“How was I supposed to? You never treated me like a son. From the beginning you made it clear I didn’t belong here. You wanted me gone.”
Dad’s face hardens.
“So that’s what this is? You go after my daughter to get back at me?”
I push my chair back and stand up.
My hands are shaking. I’ve never talked back like this in this house. Not once.
“He didn’t take advantage of me.”
Dad turns his head toward me.
“Sit down, Selena!”
“No.” I force the words out. “I had a hormonal problem for months. My breasts were leaking every day and it hurt. I waited forever to see a doctor, but when I finally couldn’t take it anymore and did he called it an imbalance.
I never told anyone because I was scared.
I was scared that you’ll look at me differently.
You only cared about having a perfect daughter. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Mom’s face crumples. She looks up at me like she doesn’t recognize me.
Dad stands and steps around the corner of the table toward me.
“He poisoned your mind. He took advantage of your innocence. Can’t you see that?”
“No, Dad.” My voice comes out clearer than I expect. “Everything was consensual. I fell in love with him too. It was the first time I felt safe. The first time someone actually paid attention to me. The first time somebody truly cared.”
Soren speaks again, still seated.
“She’s telling the truth.”
I look at Mom. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying.
“We’re so sorry. I never wanted you to find out like this. Dad, I know this is the last thing you ever expected from me. I’m sorry for lying. And I’m sorry for hurting the both of you. Especially you, Mom. I know how much this must hurt you.”
I step closer to Soren’s chair and put my hand around his arm. My fingers are still trembling, but I don’t let go.
“But in the end, I will still choose him. And that’s my choice, Dad. It won’t change anymore. No matter what you threaten. I’m not walking away from him.”
Dad’s face twists. He raises his hand toward me. I close my eyes, ready to receive the powerful slap.
Soren is already on his feet. He catches Dad’s wrist before it can land.
“Don’t touch her.”
Dad yanks his arm free and shoves Soren hard in the chest.
Soren shoves him back.
Mom jumps up from her seat, crying, and tries to push between them.
“Stop—please, both of you, stop?—”
I move too. My legs feel unsteady but I still reach for Soren’s arm, then for Dad’s shoulder, trying to pull them apart.
“Dad, stop—Soren, please?—”
Neither of them listens. My hands are useless against them.
Dad lands a solid hit on Soren’s ribs. The sound is dull and heavy.
Soren answers with a punch that catches Dad across the mouth and splits his lip.
Blood sprays in a thin arc and hits the floor near the flower bouquets, dark against the light wood.
Mom and I are both grabbing at them now, both of us crying, both of us failing to stop anything.
“Rick—Soren—please, you’re going to kill each other?—”
They ignore her.
They end up slammed against the wall, still trading short, brutal hits. Another chair scrapes. Something on the table tips and rolls.
Mom’s voice breaks into raw, helpless crying as she keeps trying to pull them apart and fails.
Finally, Soren gets enough space to shove Dad off him hard. Dad staggers back, breathing heavily, blood running down his chin. Soren stays where he is, chest rising and falling, the red mark on his cheek already darkening into a bruise.
Dad wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Blood smears across his knuckles.
“Get the fuck out of my house!”
Soren looks at me once, then turns and walks toward the front door. He doesn’t run. He doesn’t look back at Rick. He just leaves.
I start to follow him.
Dad grabs my arm from behind, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.
“You’re not going with him.”
“Let go of me, Dad.”
“I said you’re not going.” His voice is shaking with rage. “You are my daughter. You are not walking out of this house with that bastard.”
I twist hard and yank my arm free. The sudden release makes me stumble, but I don’t stop. I run after Soren. Behind me Mom is crying openly now, calling my name over and over.
“Selena—please—don’t go—Selena!”
I don’t look back. If I look back I might not keep walking.
We reach the car parked in the driveway. I climb into the front passenger seat on shaking legs.
Soren walks around to the driver’s side. He pauses with his hand on the door handle and looks back at the house one last time.
Mom is standing in the open doorway, both hands pressed to her mouth, still crying.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” he says, just loud enough for the wind to carry it.
Then he gets in, starts the engine, and we pull away.
The house shrinks in the side mirror. The front door is still open. Mom is still standing there. I watch until we turn the corner and I can’t see her anymore.
The car is quiet except for the low hum of the engine. I stare at my hands in my lap. They’re still trembling. There is a faint red mark on my arm where Dad grabbed me. My eyes burn, but the tears won’t fall now. They just sit there, heavy and useless.
“They’re never going to forgive us,” I say, voice small. “What if we just ruined everything? What if this is the last time we ever see them? What if Mom never speaks to us again?”
Soren keeps his eyes on the road. He drives for a few seconds before he answers.
“We’ll start over.”
I look at him. The bruise on his cheek is already darkening. There’s a small cut near his lip from one of Dad’s punches.
“I’m scared, Soren.” My voice cracks. “I’m scared of what happens next. I’m scared we’re going to lose each other over this.”
He reaches over and takes my hand without looking away from the road. His grip is steady and warm.
“You’re not losing me. Not ever. Do you hear me?”
I swallow hard. “What happens now?”
Soren is quiet for a moment. His thumb brushes once over my knuckles. Then he says it plainly.
“Tomorrow, we're done hiding. I'm telling all of them straight. You're mine. I'm yours. No matter what it takes."
He removes his hand from mine and puts it back on the steering wheel.
"No matter what it takes,” he repeats, but voice low, only he can hear.