AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"Me?"
"Yeah. What about your childhood? What was it like?" With how touched she was by the closeness between myself and my father, I wondered if it wasn't because she wasn't close to her parents.
Her face shuffled through various expressions, making me scrunch my eyebrows slightly worried. Was her childhood terrible? Should I not have asked? I remembered what my father said when he was certain that Aryana would not abort our child. I had not read her file when my father offered, as I had been pissed off about the situation. Now, I wasn't sure if I regretted not reading it. If I had read it, I would not have had to make her relive any unpleasant memories. However, with how much progress we have made, wouldn't it have violated her trust even if she had expected me to do so?
"You don't know about my childhood? Your father seemed to know a lot. I thought you did as well." She questioned.
"I didn't read the file about your life."
I could see her gratitude, which made me feel better about not reading about her past. She spoke up when I was about to tell her not to worry.
"I'm adopted. My mother abandoned me when I was a child."
Oh. That was not what I had been expecting to hear.
Chapter 17
Aryana
Iwouldn’tsayIliked thinking about my childhood. It wasn't particularly traumatizing, but it didn't fill me with good emotions, so I didn't see the point in reminiscing. When Alexander asked me about my childhood, I didn't hesitate because I could not talk about it, but because I didn't know where to start. So many years had passed since my mother decided she didn't want me anymore and dumped me at an orphanage. With so much time passed, I was no longer affected by the past and had moved on.
"My father left my mom and me when I was seven. I can't remember much, but I recall several shouting sessions between them. All I know is that one day, my father upped and left. He never came back."
I gave Alexander a reassuring smile when I saw how disgruntled he looked at the small revelation.
"After he left, it was like there had been a switch, and my mum became very irritable. Back then, I was too young to understand the struggles and responsibilities of an adult, so I never understood why she was always angry and tired. Since my blood-related father left, she turned her frustrations on me, and I became her new target."
Alexander's face grew alarmed. "Did she ever raise her hands on you?"
I shook my head. "No. She never hit me, but there are other forms of physical abuse. I didn't realize it then. She resorted to yelling and smashing things around. Eventually, she turned to alcohol. As a child, I realized she became extremely violent and mean after consuming a foul-smelling drink, but I couldn't understand why."
As I recalled the memories that were still in my head for some reason, I pushed and shoved my pasta around on the plate.
"She always blamed me for the harsh circumstances we were in. At one point, I started to believe that I had to be extremely well-behaved to make my mother like me."
I snorted in nostalgia. As a child, I wanted attention from my mother, but she was always angry at me. The times when she was not angry, she would ignore me as if I didn't exist. I had thought that perhaps I wasn't a good child and tried to do whatever would make her happy. I kept quiet when she screamed at me to shut up. I kept to myself when she complained about seeing my face. I stopped seeking her out when she told me to leave her alone, and I stopped bringing drawings I would draw in school when she would tear them.
"But it never worked. No matter what I did, it would only piss her off even more." I picked up from where I had stopped. "As if it was my fault that I was born." I scoffed, feeling slightly bitter.
"I'm sorry for what you encountered as a child." Alexander apologized with sincerity lacing his voice, and this time, he was the one that reached over to hold my hand.
I smiled widely. My eyes were glued to the point of contact between our hands. His hand was large compared to mine and warm. It felt nice. Especially when his thumb stroked up and down the back of my hand in a repetitive motion. I didn't bother to look away from our hands as I continued my story. It was a pleasant sight.
"In the end, we barely interacted, and one day, my mother suddenly started acting nice to me. I was confused but excited to have her attention finally. She smiled at me, took me out, and bought me many treats."
I was still looking at our hands which had intertwined. If I looked, I knew I would see Alexander with a confused look on his attractive face or with an expression of the dawning of realization as he connected the dots. He was intelligent, so I was sure it was the latter.
"The doting behavior continued for a week until she came one day and said she would take me to a very exciting place. She said it would be so fun that I wouldn't want to leave." I sneered at the memory, wishing I could have shaken the younger version of myself for being so gullible, but I knew it wasn't possible.
Of course, I had fallen for her words. I had been a child, but it turned out for the better in the end.
"She was right, except that it wasn't that I didn't 'want' to leave but that I 'couldn't' leave." I rolled my eyes with a scoff.
The hand holding mine suddenly tightened, and I glanced up to see Alexander with a stormy expression. His lips were straightened in a firm line. For once, I saw the emotion in his steely gray eyes that glinted angrily. Even though his eyes held fury and should have made my self-preservation instincts flare, I was intrigued instead. It was fascinating seeing such a display of ire for me.
I've had people and friends angry on my behalf, but seeing Alexander furious for me made me feel things I wasn't supposed to feel when recounting my past. I crossed my legs nonchalantly and hoped he didn't notice anything.
His face immediately softened when he saw me staring at him, and I felt a loss at seeing the protectiveness and fury disappear. However, the loss was replaced with butterflies in my stomach when I saw his gaze filled with warmth, tenderness, and a desire to protect me. When was the last time I had received such a gaze? That was before I left my adoptive father to pursue my education, but there was a difference even then. From my adoptive father's eyes, I could see the desire to shield me from danger, while Alexander's said he would kill for me.
