Chapter 8
Olivia blankly stared at the diamond solitaire in Clayton's hand.
Everything made sense now, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place. Her parents opening up the topic of marriage at dinner and their unexpected decision to attend a birthday party, all of it hadn’t been random at all. They had planned this whole thing.
Her throat felt tight, as if a hand were squeezing it. She couldn't think properly. Couldn't speak.
Clayton kneeling on one knee, Caleb watching in shock behind her, the expectant guests, and her adoptive parents glaring because she was taking so long to answer—all hit her at once. She couldn't take the pressure, and she felt the room spin.
"Olivia? Are you okay?" Clayton's face swam in and out of focus. He got up, his voice sounding far away, as if he were calling to her from underwater. She tried to draw in air, but her lungs wouldn't cooperate.
"Olivia, oh my God, you're paperwhite!" Caleb's concerned voice reached her ears, but she couldn't bring herself to respond.
She pressed her hands against her temples, trying to steady herself.
But the faces around her blurred into indistinct shapes.
It was all too much for her. The last thing she heard was the sound of hurried footsteps rushing in her direction.
She fell into someone's arms before darkness closed in around her.
—
Olivia's eyelids fluttered open to unfamiliar surroundings, her vision gradually adjusting to the warm ceiling light. The unmistakable manly scent hit her nostrils. The picture frame on the wall, showing Clayton in his military uniform, confirmed this was his room.
The soft click of heels against the floor drew her attention. Olivia lifted her head and blinked rapidly at the woman standing at the side of the room. She was beautiful. Breathtakingly beautiful.
The woman approached the bed with effortless elegance, her midnight hair falling in perfect waves around her gentle face. "Thank goodness you're awake," she spoke, giving her a glass of water. "We were all so worried. The doctor who checked you said you collapsed from exhaustion."
Olivia accepted the water gratefully and immediately emptied her glass; the water had never tasted this good as it slid down her throat.
"Thank you," she managed, studying the woman's features. The resemblance was striking, with the same high cheekbones and naturally red cupid’s lips.
She looked so much like Clayton, but it was her eyes—one green and one brown—that caught Olivia's attention.
"I'm sorry, but... are you Clayton's sister?" The words slipped out before she could stop herself.
The woman's lips curved into a smile. Color crept to her cheeks. "I'm Lily Bradford, Clayton's mother. Though I must admit, being mistaken for his sister is quite flattering."
The glass nearly slipped from Olivia's grasp. This elegant woman is Clayton's mother? She looked barely forty. She must have found the fountain of youth.
"You’ve exhausted yourself too much. The doctor said you need to have a long rest.” The concern in the woman's voice was genuine.
“It's been really stressful at work,” Olivia admitted.
With this woman, she felt like she could share the stupidest and craziest things and still be understood.
“There are patients left and right who need surgery. We can rest after a long, exhausting day at work, but for the patients, they are running out of time, so we have to prioritize them.”
Lily carefully took the water glass and set it aside. "Oh, sweetheart.” She pulled Olivia into a hug, and in that moment, Olivia realized just how badly she needed that motherly love. For the first time in her life, she tasted that heaven and would remember it for the rest of her life.
The gentle stroke of Lily's hand on her back reminded Olivia of all the times she'd watched other girls with their mothers, being hugged and cared for by them. She had always craved that affection.
She rested her head against the woman's shoulder and closed her eyes. For once, she didn't feel the need to be strong or put up walls. She could just be herself.
The sound of knuckles against wood broke through their moment. Olivia opened her eyes and turned to the door. Clayton appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His eyes were soft with concern as they landed on her.
Lily pulled back slowly. She cupped Olivia's face in her hands, the gesture so maternal that it made Olivia's heart squeeze. "You're going to be okay, sweetheart," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"I'll leave you two to talk," she said, rising gracefully from the bed. As she passed Clayton, she touched his arm gently.
The door clicked shut, leaving the two of them alone, unsure of how or who would break the silence.
Clayton finally crossed the distance between them. The mattress dipped slightly when he sat down. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Better,” she managed to reply. Olivia looked down at her lap, embarrassed to meet his gaze after she had ruined his proposal and birthday party. "I'm sorry about what happened,” she murmured under her breath.
"You didn't ruin anything,” he replied. “The blame is on me. It's my fault for not telling you in advance about the plan.”
Olivia kept her eyes down, distracting herself by studying her nails while the silence stretched unbearably. She waited for him to leave now that they had nothing to talk about, but that didn't happen. Contrary to that, he said something that made her snap her head at him.
"Happy birthday, Olivia."
Her whole body went rigid. It took her a moment to find her voice and respond, "What... what did you say?”
"Today is your birthday. We have the same birthday.”
Olivia's fingers clutched the blanket so tightly that her knuckles turned white. The memories she'd locked away came flooding back.
She was fifteen when Mrs. Hilton told her that her birth date would be changed on her birth certificate. "Your old birthday doesn't matter anymore. We are your new family and this is your new life," those were her exact words.
"If we find out you're celebrating your real birthday, well... there's always room back at the orphanage," Mr. Hilton had added, planting the seed of fear and abandonment in her young mind.
Olivia learned to forget. She pushed her real birthday from her mind to celebrate somebody else's birthday—Caroline's birthday, to be exact. She smiled and laughed, even though it wasn't her special day.
She became so good at pretending that sometimes she almost believed herself. All these years, she'd kept that secret buried so deep that she'd almost convinced herself it didn't matter anymore.
"H-how did you know?"
Clayton took her hand and gently slid the diamond ring onto her finger.
"I just knew it," he said with that smile—that devastating smile that made her heart skip every time she saw it.
The one that reached his eyes and created little crinkles at the corners.
The one that made it impossible not to love him.
“You should get some rest. I’ll go back to the party now.” He stood up, releasing her hand.
The door opened before Clayton could reach it, revealing a woman around Olivia's age, wearing a crimson dress that perfectly complemented her smooth porcelain skin and midnight black hair.
She looked like she stepped out of a Da Vinci’s painting. Her presence commanded attention, an epitome of what Olivia called a perfect woman.
"Clayton, everyone's looking for you." She had a melodic voice that could make anyone close their eyes while listening. Her eyes briefly flickered to Olivia before returning to Clayton.
Without hesitation, she wrapped her perfectly manicured hand around Clayton's arm, the gesture both intimate and possessive.
Olivia had never seen any woman touch Clayton so casually before. He usually maintained a careful distance with everyone. Yet here he stood, completely at ease with her touch.
He turned to the woman, a gentle smile gracing his lips, and without hesitation, he reached out to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. The gesture was tender, casual, and it sent a jolt of surprise through Olivia, who couldn't tear her gaze away from them.
"Let's go, Isa." Clayton said. The two then walked to the door and disappeared behind it.
Olivia lay back against the soft pillows. The room felt colder, and she pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders like a shield. Both the pillow and the blanket smelled like Clayton
She closed her heavy eyelids, allowing herself to drift off to Dreamland, a place where she could forget everything: the hurt, the pain, and even her love for him, if only for a brief moment.