I let out a heavy breath and made my way out of the room and through to the kitchen. Cathrine was pottering about as usual. Giving her a half smile, I caught the red roses in a vase on the table, momentarily freezing me in my tracks. Mum used to pick them from the garden and display them on the kitchen table. They were her favourites. After she died, Cathrine had continued displaying them. I think it was her way of letting me know Mum was still around. Sighing, I continued through the door and into the garden.
Finally. I could breathe.
I sat down at the patio table, leaning back in the chair and rubbing my temples. Today was not what I’d expected. My dad was married again, and to a woman less than half his age. He’d even donated to charity. He was up to something, I could tell.
Aria ran her hand over my shoulders, and I looked up at her. I hadn’t realised she’d followed me.
“Are you ok?”
“I am now.” I grabbed her waist, pulling her onto my lap, and kissed her forehead.
“We should get back in,” she said.
Knots formed in my stomach at the thought of spending another minute with my dad sitting there as he pretended we had any kind of relationship in front of his wife.
No. I was done with this charade.
I ran my thumb over her bottom lip, and her breath hitched. “Nyx, let’s go home,” I whispered.
She brushed the loose bits of my hair back and gazed into my eyes, a silent agreement. I stood and placed her on her feet, and we walked back into the kitchen.
Dad stood there as Monica floated in through the door and made her way over to the table with the roses. She leaned over to sniff them and screwed her face up.
“What’s wrong, darling?” Dad asked Monica.
She made her way over to him, linking her arm through his and resting a hand on his chest. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’ve just never really liked the smell of roses.”
He looked up at Cathrine. “Please make sure Monica’s favourite, yellow carnations, are displayed instead from now on.”
She gave a nod and left the kitchen.
“But it’s always been red roses in the kitchen,” I told him. “Mum would pick them from the garden.”
The thought of my mum caused my chest to tighten. I may have only been ten when she died, but she’d had so much love for me. She was kind and made sure she was there for me. We made little forts in the living room with blankets and pillows and sneaked sweets together before dinner was ready. My life would have been so different if she were still around.
“You need to grow up, Sebastian. Not everything is about you.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Your mother isn’t here anymore. She hasn’t been for seventeen years. It’s time you let her go.”
“What the fuck did you just say?” I clenched my fists, and that burning rage festered in my stomach, ready to explode.
“Sebastian,” Aria called, taking my hand, but I shook her off.
“I thought after she was gone, you’d grow into the man you were meant to be, but look at you.” His eyes burned into me. “You’ve never been fit for the Knight name.”
A cloud of fog filled my mind, acid running through my body as I grabbed him by his shirt collar. Monica took a step back, letting out a cry as her hands covered her mouth. Every single thing he’d ever said to me ran through my mind, memories of trauma, violence, and psychological abuse raging together like an earthquake. My left arm pulled back, ready to hit this man for everything he’d burned into my soul.
“Sebastian!” Aria shrieked, grabbing my arm to pull me off.
Her touch was warm, spreading her light into that violent darkness that raged over me. Her eyes met mine, and my grip loosened from my dad’s collar as the tension left my body.
“I think it’s time we went home,” Aria said, her fingers locking with mine.
Monica started to fuss over Dad, straightening out his suit. “I think that’s a good idea, son.”
Son? He’d never looked at me like a son.
