Chapter 53
* Pords>
Chapter 53
Mira’s POV_
The next morning, my father returned home. Seeing him walk through the front door was a relief I hadn’t realized I needed. His steps were steadier than before, and the color had returned to his face, but the weariness in his eyes hadn’t gone away. He pulled me into a gentle hug, careful not to press too hard against my still–fragile frame.
“How are you feeling, Mira?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.
“I am fine, Dad,” I replied softly, though the heaviness in my limbs told a different story. “What about you? Are you really okay?”
He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am better now that I am home with you. That’s all that matters.
I could see through his brave front. He was still hurting–not just physically, but emotionally. The weight of everything that had happened was etched into the lines of his face.
Later that afternoon, there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, Sophia stood there, looking unsure of herself. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she clutched her hands together, as though holding herself back
from fleeing.
“Hi, Mira,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “Can I come in?”
Before I could answer, my father appeared behind me. His expression darkened the moment he saw her. “You have some nerve showing up here,” he said coldly.
“Dad, please,” I started, but he cut me off.
“She has no right to step foot in this house after what she’s done,” he said firmly. His voice was filled with anger, but underneath it, I could hear the pain. “You betrayed us, Sophia. Your actions nearly cost your sister her life. Your mother is still fighting to survive because of you.”
Tears streamed down Sophia’s face. “I know I made mistakes,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for things to go this far. I just… I thought I was doing what was best for me.”
“And look where that selfishness got us,” my father snapped. “I am ashamed to have a daughter like you.” “Dad,” I said, placing a hand on his arm. “Please, just let her stay. She’s still family.”
He shook his head, his jaw set. “No, Mira. She made her choice, and now she has to live with it. She is not welcome here.”
Sophia’s shoulders shook as she turned and walked away. I watched her go, my heart aching. Despite everything she had done, she was still my sister. A part of me wanted to chase after her, to comfort her. another part of me knew my father was right. She had hurt us too deeply.
When the door closed, my father let out a heavy sigh and turned to me. “You’re too kind, Mira,” he said. “But sometimes kindness isn’t enough.”
For the rest of the day, my father busied himself around the house, trying to take care of me even though I insisted I was fine. He brought me water, fluffed my pillows, and even tried to make me soup.
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“Dad, you don’t need to do this,” I said as he fumbled with a pot in the kitchen. “I’m not that helpless.”
He waved me off. “Nonsense. You need to eat, and I’m going to make sure you do.”
I sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t even know how to make soup.”
“Well, I’ll figure it out,” he said stubbornly, reaching for a can of broth.
“Dad, seriously,” I said, trying not to laugh. “It’s fine. Just let it be.”
He set the can down and crossed his arms. “If you won’t eat my soup, I’ll call Killian and tell him you’re refusing to take care of yourself.”
My smile faded. “Dad, don’t-”
But it was too late. He had already grabbed his phone and dialed Killian’s number. I groaned, sinking onto the couch as I listened to him explain the situation. A part of me hoped Killian would just brush it off, but of
course, he didn’t.
“I’ll be there in a bit,” I heard him say through the speaker.
I closed my eyes, frustration bubbling inside me. This was the last thing I needed.
About thirty minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Killian stepped inside, carrying several grocery bags. He looked at me briefly before turning to my father.
“Where’s the kitchen?” he asked.
My father pointed him in the right direction, and Killian wasted no time. He set the bags on the counter and began unpacking them, pulling out fresh vegetables, herbs, and other ingredients.
“Go rest,” he told my father. “I’ll take care of everything.”
My father hesitated but eventually nodded, leaving the room. I stayed on the couch, too tired to argue. Killian worked quietly, chopping vegetables with practiced ease. The sound of the knife against the cutting board was oddly soothing, but I couldn’t relax. I kept my guard up, watching him warily.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked finally.
He glanced at me, his expression calm. “Because you need help.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.
He didn’t respond right away, focusing on adding the vegetables to the pot. The scent of simmering broth soon filled the air, making my stomach growl despite my annoyance.
“I know you don’t want me here,” he said after a while. “And I know you don’t trust me. But I’m not doing this to win you over, Mira. I’m doing it because I care about you.”
I scoffed, crossing my arms. “You care? That’s funny, considering how you rejected me for Sophia.”
He flinched at my words, but he didn’t deny them. Instead, he turned off the stove and ladled the soup into a bowl. He walked over and set it on the coffee table in front of me.
“I made mistakes,” he said quietly. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for them.”
I stared at the bowl, the steam rising from it in gentle spirals. Part of me wanted to throw it back in his face, to tell him I didn’t need his pity. But another part of me, the part that was tired and hungry, couldn’t summon the energy to fight.
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“Thank you,” I said reluctantly, picking up the spoon.
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He didn’t say anything, just sat down in the chair across from me. As I ate, I couldn’t help but wonder what his endgame was. Was he really trying to make amends, or was this just another way to manipulate me? I couldn’t let my guard down. Not again..
But as I finished the soup, I couldn’t deny that it was good. Too good, actually. I hated how comforting it felt, how it warmed me from the inside out.
Killian stayed for a while, cleaning up the kitchen and checking in on my father. He didn’t push me to talk, which I appreciated. But his presence still unsettled me. He was trying too hard, and I couldn’t figure out why. When he finally left, I felt a strange mix of relief and confusion. I didn’t want to admit it, but a small part of me appreciated his effort. Still, I reminded myself of all the pain he had caused me, all the reasons I couldn’t
trust him.
I wouldn’t let him get to me. Not again.
”
Alyssa Emerald
Hello. I am letting you know that I will not be able to continue updating this story since I am sick and I need to undergo a surgery. I will continue writing in January or February. I apologize for the inconvenience caused.
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