CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
ALEXANDRA JONES
THREE WEEKS LATER
LIFE ISN’T THE SAME ANYMORE.
It hasn’t been the same since he sat on the edge of my bed and made the decision to let me go.
‘I blame myself for not being more careful on the road. If I had, maybe none of this would have happened. And I wouldn’t be a stranger to you. I would be your husband. The love of your life.’
And I cried.
Day and night, I cried with regret.
Because I miss him, I miss him so much.
I miss the way he looks at me, the way his eyes softened, the way he smiles but tries to hide it…the way he touches my face and kisses my lips.
Nothing felt the same.
I haven’t seen him.
I haven’t heard from him…
He really let me go.
The leaves continued to fall from the trees, I found myself lost in a sea of emotions, unable to concentrate on anything other than the ache in my heart. I should be drawing, focusing on my art to distract myself, but my mind kept drifting back to Ares. I tried to push away the thoughts, to immerse myself in my art, but each stroke of the pencil felt empty, devoid of the passion and joy I once had. My sketchbook, meant to be filled with life and creativity, now felt like a reflection of my broken heart.
Mrs. Toffee’s deadline was approaching, and I knew I had to finish my sketches, but my mind was clouded with thoughts of Ares.
Why did I call him a stranger!
Why did I hurt him when all he tried to do was mend me?
I glance at my phone, hoping for a message or a call from him, but the screen remains silent. The lack of communication felt like a chasm widening between us, and I longed for the comfort of his presence, for his voice, for his touch. But I remember his goodbye to me, and the moment he left the room- I cried.
As I sat there lost in my memories, the sound of Mrs. Toffee’s voice pulls me back to the present. I look up to see her concerned gaze, and the tears welled up in my eyes once again, threatening to spill over.
“Alexandra, class was over fifteen minutes ago...” she began, but then she notices my tear-streaked face. Her expression softened, and without hesitation, she set her coffee aside and wraps her arms around me. “Oh, dear child,” she whispers soothingly, pulling me into a comforting embrace. “Let it out.”
Her warmth and understanding were a balm to my wounded heart, and I allowed myself to let go of the emotions I had been holding back. I bury my face in her shoulder, letting the tears flow freely, feeling safe and supported in her embrace.
Mrs. Toffee gently strokes my hair, offering me a comforting touch. She didn’t ask questions or push for explanations; she simply held space for me to release the pain that had been building up inside me.
I cried without restraint, letting all the emotions that had been bottling up pour out. It was embarrassing to break down in front of my teacher, but in that moment, I didn’t care. I needed to let it out, to feel the weight of my heartache lessen even just a little.
Mrs. Toffee’s caring presence felt like a lifeline in the midst of the storm that had engulfed my life. Her kind words and understanding embrace reminded me that I wasn’t alone, that there were people who cared for me and would be there for me in my time of need.
After a while, my tears began to subside, and I gently pull away from her embrace. Mrs. Toffee hands me a tissue, and I gratefully wipe my cheeks, offering a small smile of gratitude.
“Thank you.” My voice trembles. “Sorry-I don’t know what came over me.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” I shake my head. “I can see your heartbroken, you haven’t touched your sketchbook in two weeks. Remember, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Take all the time you need to heal.”
Her words were a gentle reminder that healing was a process, and it was okay to take it one step at a time. I nod, feeling a sense of comfort in her wisdom. I gather my things and exit the classroom, the echoes of Mrs. Toffee’s comforting words still lingering in my mind. As I walk down the busy hallway, my eyes catch sight of Catherine sitting under the tree. A mix of emotions rushes through me, but I know I need to face her. I need to forgive. To move on.
To do things right.
Her gaze lifts, and our eyes meet, locking in a moment of understanding. Catherine’s eyes widen, and she quickly stands up, a mixture of guilt and sadness evident on her face.
“Alexandra-” She begins, but I interrupt her gently.
“I forgive you,” I whisper, surprising both her and I with the weight of those words. Her brows furrow, and she looks at me with disbelief.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you-” She trails off.
“You weren’t,” I reply, a sense of clarity settling over me. “I understand now that you were just trying to protect me, even if it meant keeping the truth from me. We were both struggling with our own battles, and I can’t fault you for the choices you made.”
Catherine’s expression softens, and tears shimmer in her eyes. “Thank you,” she says, her voice choked with emotion.
“I know it won’t be easy, but we can find a way to move forward, to support each other as friends,” I continue. “We don’t have to pretend that everything is okay, but we can heal together.”
Holding onto anger and resentment would only weigh me down, and I didn’t want to carry that burden any longer. Forgiving Catherine was a step towards healing, not just for our friendship, but also for my own heart.
“Can I hug you?” I nod my head and she wraps her arms around me, I missed her so much. I missed my best friend. My neighbour. My balcony person.
After our conversation, Catherine offered to take me home. Grateful for the ride, I bid her farewell and walk up to my front door, I dig into my bag, looking for my keys but I just couldn’t find them. I squat down onto the ground, stretching my bag wider before finding the keys stuck inside my sketchbooks.
As I push my key inside and enter, I slide my shoes off and feel something-something off. To my surprise, when I come in the kitchen, I found my parents and Auntie Coraline seated at the dining table. Their stern expressions made me uneasy, and my heart started pounding in my chest.
“What’s going on?” I manage to ask, trying to appear composed despite the chaos in my mind.
My mother stood up abruptly and threw a shirt at me, and I recognised it instantly—it was Ares’ shirt. My eyes widen in shock, and I look up at them all, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.
“Why do you have a man’s shirt in your room, Alexandra Jones?” My mother’s voice was laced with anger, and I could see the disappointment in her eyes. My father didn’t even look at me, but I could feel the tension in the room, making me feel smaller than ever.
“I can explain-” I stammer, trying to find the right words to convey the truth.
“Explain! To whom does that belong to!” My mother’s voice rose, and her frustration was evident.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.
“Heavenly Father, you don’t answer me as of this minute-”
“What are you going to do?” My mother’s eyes widen at my remark, and she took a step closer to me, anger evident on her face. Without warning, she raises her hand and slaps me across the face. I gasp, holding onto my cheeks in shock, while Aunt Coraline immediately stood up from the table.
“Catalina!” Auntie Coraline’s voice was stern and disapproving.
My heart was pounding in my chest, and anger surged within me. “Who does it belong to?” My mother whispers through clenched teeth, her eyes flashing with an unsettling intensity.
“You already know who, don’t you, mother?” I retort, my voice laced with bitterness and betrayal.
“What are you talking about?” My father interjects, looking confused and concerned.
“It belongs to my husband,” I growl back at my mother, watching her eyes widen with surprise.
“Husband? You’re not married, you’re a child!” My father slams his fist onto the table in anger, causing everyone to look in our direction.
“Please, spare me the lies. I know everything,” I said, my voice trembling with emotion but I still managed to let out a laugh of sarcasm. “You manipulated me, took advantage of me!”
Silence fills the room as my words hung in the air, the truth finally laid bare for all to see.
I hated them.
I hated my parents.
Now more than ever!
Maybe if they would have told me earlier, I would’ve remembered. I had been kept in the dark for too long, and now the truth had come to light.
“Did you have sex with him?” My mother asks.
The room fell into a tense silence after my mother’s shocking question. Before I could respond, the anger within me took over, and words spilled out without restraint.
“Yes! I did.” I shoot out, “and I loved it.”
But I hadn’t expected my father’s reaction.
In a moment of blind fury, he lunged forward and threw a punch right at my face. Pain exploded through my nose as I stumble back right in the ground, my hands instinctively covering the bleeding wound. Shock and fear engulfed me as I look up at my enraged father.
He really hit me.
My own father just hit me.
I scramble back, blood pouring out from my nose as the pain suddenly begins to ache.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, Auntie Coraline rushes to my side, shielding me from my parents. Her voice filled with anger and desperation; she screams at my father.
“Lay one more hand on her, Andrew, I dare you!” Auntie Coraline threatens, “I’ll fucking kill you.” She turns to face me; my hands filled with blood as she grazes my face.
“Move! Now Coraline before I punch you too.” Auntie Coraline, however, stood her ground, a fierce determination in her eyes.
“I dare you, Andrew.” She whispers.
“I won’t allow a slut stay in my house!”
“Fuck you and your house, I’m leaving!” I stand up and push past Auntie Coraline and head to the front door. I grab his shirt, wiping the blood from hands and patting down my nose which I believe to think he’s broke.
“And where will you go?” My mother yells at me angrily.
“Did you forget that my husband is a billionaire? And I thought I was the one with the memory loss.” I shoot at them before slamming the door behind me, I wasn’t going to Ares. I said that so they could shut up, the weather continues to rain, and I start to run in any direction.
The rain pours down as I ran, each step a release of pent-up frustration and hurt. My heart was heavy, but I refuse to let my family’s hurtful words break me. I needed to find a safe place, a place where I could gather my thoughts and figure out my next move.
As I ran, my mind raced with thoughts of Ares. Part of me wanted to go to him, seek solace in his arms, but the other part knew that I needed to stand on my own two feet. I couldn’t keep relying on him for everything. I eventually found myself seeking shelter under a nearby awning. My clothes were soaked, and I was shivering from the cold rain, but I didn’t care. I needed to catch my breath and think.
“Where will you go?”
My mother’s voice echoed in my mind. The truth was, I didn’t know. I had no plan, no destination in mind. All I knew was that I couldn’t go back home, not after what had happened.
Suddenly, I found myself standing in front of the cabin, memories of happier times flooding back as I slowly ascended the stairs. The weather seemed to mirror my emotions, with a light drizzle adding to the melancholy atmosphere.
Searching for a key, I checked under the mat and the post-box, finally feeling a glimmer of hope when my fingers brushed against a key tucked under the mailbox. I wish to myself that this was the key for the door and not the post-box, I slid the key into the lock and turned it, the familiar click of the door opening resonating in the quiet surroundings.
As I enter the cabin, a rush of emotions overcame me.
This place held so many precious memories, and yet, it was also a stark reminder of the pain I was currently going through. I close the door behind me, needing a moment to gather my thoughts and emotions.
Resting my forehead against the door, I close my eyes, trying to find some inner calm. I needed clarity and strength to face whatever lay ahead. My nose continued to bleed into the shirt, I walk over to the sink-throwing the shirt onto the counter as I cough out some blood. Tears fall into the gold sink as I sob to myself, shaking my head. What am I even doing in my life?
I am met with an unexpected sight as I turn around—Ares standing by the stairs, shock clearly written on his face. Our eyes lock, and for a moment, neither of us said a word. The silence is heavy with unspoken emotions, each of us grappling with our own feelings.
He analyses my face.
Please don’t bring it up.
Is there blood still dropping?
I graze my nose with my finger and take a look to see crimson blood stained into my fingerprint.
He hit me hard. Finally, Ares stepped forward, his movement shattering the tension that hung between us like a heavy fog. “What happened to your face?” His voice, a blend of concern and anger, cut through the air, his gaze fixing on the bruise marring my cheek.
Of course, he would ask. I should have known he wouldn’t let it slide.
“Ares...please,” I implore, a desperate plea to avoid delving into the painful topic.
“Don’t ‘Ares’ me. What happened to your fucking face, Alexandra?” His tone brooked no argument, demanding answers I wasn’t yet ready to give.
Mostly because I don’t know how Ares would react if he found out it were my parents who became abusive.
He asks again, his voice dark with rage. “Alexandra, answer me now!”
“It hurts,” I cry out, my voice strained with pain, my hand instinctively reaching to clutch my throbbing nose. “It really hurts...” Tears cascade down my cheeks, betraying the facade of composure I desperately tried to maintain.
He strides toward me, his footsteps echoing with purpose as he reaches out, gently grasping my face in his hands. With a tenderness that belies his earlier anger, he lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. His touch is soothing yet firm as he inspects the damage, his thumb tracing lightly over the bridge of my nose. A heavy sigh escapes his lips, carrying the weight of concern and frustration.
“Who did this to you, Alexandra?” His voice softens, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the mask of anger, as he searches my eyes for answers.
“My parents,” I finally admit.
Ares’s brows furrow, his eyes darkening with a dangerous intensity as he absorbs my revelation. He steps back, a perceptible tension radiating from his stance. Without a word, he moves to the fridge, retrieving a pack of frozen peas from the freezer before returning to me.
Wordlessly, he presses the cold compress against my injured nose, his touch gentle yet purposeful. His silence speaks volumes as I continue to explain, the words tumbling out in a rush.
“They found your shirts in my room... and then they just went crazy...” My voice trails off, the memory still vivid and painful.
“I’ll show them crazy.” He mumbles under his breath.