9. Chapter Nine #2
It’s been five years since I set my eyes on my mother. And now that we’re standing face to face, I don’t know if I want to attack her with a hug and cry about how much I’ve secretly missed her or if I want to swear at her for siding with my father to treat me poorly.
Five empty years zoom past us in a mere second.
Then she finally smiles at me. A smile too wide that prevents me from taking any step closer to her.
“Hailey,” she says like she’s trying to remember how to pronounce the name she gave me. “Sweetheart, come in. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Hi mom.” I respond in a clipped tone as I step inside.
The interior of the house is exactly the same. High ceilings, large windows, and plush furniture arranged around a sleek fireplace with abstract art adorning the walls. A grand staircase with a polished railing leads to the upper floors.
“You used to slide down those railings when you were five and I used to scold you for it,” Mom chuckles faintly, standing beside me. “You’ve always been a rebel at heart.”
I try and fail to smile at her in response. I don’t know if she has a warped memory of our time together in this house or if she’s just saying things to strike up a conversation with me. Because I was never a rebel.
I did everything they asked me to. I attended every lesson. Abandoned many friends all because of them.
The first time I ever rebelled against them was when I fled the arranged marriage. Up until that morning, I was following their orders because I lived my life to please them.
I had ended things with Ethan because I was willing to be sold off to a much older man under the guise of marriage if it made my parents pleased with me.
I was willing to enter into a loveless marriage with a man not just old enough to be my father, but a man surrounded with rumors of a history of physical abuse.
And then I found out I was pregnant and Ethan – the one I fell in love with – was the only one I could call. And the two things he said changed my life forever.
‘Let’s run.’
Now here I am, five years later, listening to my mum refer to me as a rebel at heart all because of one stupid, childish slide down the railing.
“Dinner’s on the table,” Mom says. “You’re welcome to join us. We’ve all missed you.”
No, you haven’t.
Robotically, I follow her to the dining room and my presence shatters the lively chatter among the rest of my family.
The twins are seated across each other at the table. Blonde, disgustingly spoilt and uptight. We’re eight years apart, but they stare at me like I’m a weed, which is ironic considering the fact that I spent most of my teenage years babysitting them.
They’re the exact replica of my father who sits at the head of the table.
His dark eyes are blank as they watch me approach the table with his wife. There’s no single warmth in them. In fact, there’s no warmth in this house. It’s colder than the wind outside.
Mom disrupts the deafening silence between us with the screech of her chair as she takes a seat next to my father. “Have a seat, honey.”
I don’t know the first thing to say to these people. If anyone ever told me five years ago that I would feel like a stranger in my own family, I’d give them a penny for a good joke.
“Congrats on your anniversary,” I say as I sit next to Ella.
Mom smiles weakly. “It’s been 27 years, but it only feels like 27 days with your father.”
John rolls his eyes and Ella peeks at the tattoo on my wrist with a prick of jealousy. Mom and Dad hate tattoos, so her spite is understandable.
“You’re fat.” She says disdainfully. “Does having a child make you gain so much weight? If that’s the case, I never want to have children.”
I smoothen my dress and shoot her a grin. I’m not going to let my eighteen-year-old sister antagonize me.
“Kids should be the farthest thing from your mind right now, Ella.”
She laughs. “Like you weren’t my age when you let that mechanic boy impregnate you.”
“I was 21.”
“21, 18, same thing,” John says, siding with his sister. “That reminds me. Did you bring the poor kid?”
“His name is Leo,” I correct, my tone lethal enough to make him shrink back in surprise. “And you will call him Leo. Do you understand me, Jonathan?”
My brother scoffs, cheeks red with embarrassment as he looks away from me and glares at his food. It’s a little satisfactory to see that I still have the older sister's effect on him.
Mom clears her throat. “Ignore your brother, honey. He’s just high off his college acceptance. You know, he just got accepted to Berkeley to play football. Unfortunately, Ella was put on the waiting list, but we’re hopeful.” She turns to Ella who is fuming in her seat. “Right, sweetie?”
My father’s grunt silences the table. Mom shifts uncomfortably on her seat and gestures for me to eat.
The table falls silent again, save for the light clanking of cutlery. The air amongst us is thick with unspoken tension and mom is suffocating in it.
“So,” she beams pretentiously. “How have you been? I didn’t realize just how much I missed you until I read that letter. It was really moving.”
“I’ve been good,” I say, offering a half-truth. “Working hard and watching my son grow. It’s been wonderful. He’s been looking forward to knowing you.”
Her smile is dim. “And the father?”
Dad’s eyes snap towards me and I suddenly feel queasy.
“We’re not together anymore.”
“I knew it,” Ella scoffs under her breath.
“Good,” Dad says. It’s his first word to me since I got here. He abandons his rice and peas and dabs his mouth clean with a napkin. “I’m not one for small talk, so I’ll get right into it.”
Mom’s sudden attention to the food in front of her makes me realize that whatever will come out of Dad’s mouth next won’t be something I’d like to hear.
“Your mother and I read your letter and you said you wanted to fix things. You want to be a part of the family again. Not just you, but your son as well. I’m giving you a chance to do that, Hailey.”
I still remain in the chair.
“You and your son will be provided for,” he says coldly, his gaze steady and unrelenting. “But only if you fulfill the promise you broke five years ago. The arrangement still stands.”
Dad’s words echo in my ears like a broken record. My grip on my fork tightens to the point where my knuckles turn a ghostly white.
My chest tightens, the blood draining from my face as I look into the eyes of the man I call my father. “You mean…”
“Sebastian Clyne,” he interrupts, putting a stamp on his abominable condition. “His recent marriage just ended and oddly enough, he’s still interested in you. Marry him, and you’ll have a place here again. It will be like you never left.”
My throat burns as I try to swallow back the lump of despair. I’m not just shocked but disappointed. Disappointed to find out that all I’m worth to my father is nothing more than a bargaining chip.
Dad gets to his feet and glances at Mom. “I’ll be in my study.”
Mom’s stare scrambles from me to him. “You won’t wait for dessert?”
“No,” he says, casting one final look my way. “It appears I’ve lost my appetite.”