Chapter 70: Chapter 68

Note: The update you’ve been waiting for is finally here! I apologize for the late update. Long shoots and hectic work schedules are to be blamed, though, not me. But relax guys; I’m here now, and so is Aunt Claw.

Happy reading, darlings!!

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Song: ‘Ashes and Wine’ by Alison Sudol, Hal Cragin, and Lukas Burton

Don't know what to do, any-more

I've lost the only love worth fightin' for

And I'll drown in my tear storm-en sea

And that would show you

That would make you hurt like me

All the same...

I don't want mud-slinging games

It's just a shame-

To let you walk away

Is there a chance a fragment of light

at the end of the tunnel a reason to fight

Is there a chance you might change your mind

Or are we ashes and wine?

Oooohhh...

Don't know if our fate's already sealed

This day's a spinning, circus on a wheel

………………………………………………………

ELIHAJ’S POV

I was working in my bedroom when my door knocked for the first time in all these months. I opened it, knowing ver well who it would be.

She was pacing outside the room but stopped when she saw me. I closed the door behind me. I looked at her to see if she had any signs of distress or weakness but found none. Her face looked much more radiant now than before; the color was not in its absolute state, but it wasn’t as pale as before. It was enough for me to figure out that she was feeling better than before.

Though she was fidgeting with her hands and avoiding direct eye contact, I finally asked.

“Do you need anything?” It’s one of the few times I’ve started a conversation that hasn’t begun with anger or yelling.

“No, I mean yes,” she fumbled in her words. “My family is coming for dinner; I hope that’s okay with you.” She questioned skeptically without meeting my eyes.

“Why would I not be okay with it?” I asked, leaning back against the door with folded arms.

“Because this is your house,” she finally fixated her eyes on me, meaning every word.

“Fair enough, I have no problem; they can come,” I answered without blinking. “Anything else?” I asked when I noticed her contemplating, her inner conflict written all over her face.

“I don’t expect you to meet them, but if you could, I mean to not give away...” She stopped to rearrange her thoughts. “It’s your choice,” she said so dejectedly like it took everything in her to come here, but she still had no hope about it, like she knew I wouldn't do it for her. It tugged at my heart.

She didn’t say anything further and looked at me expectantly for an answer. When I didn’t say anything, she didn’t look surprised, as if this was what she had expected all along.

Before she could walk away, I asked:

“How are you doing now?”

“I’m alright,” she nodded at me. “Thank you,” I knew she meant for earlier.

………………………………………………………

The bell rang, indicating her family had arrived. I exited my room dressed in black cargo pants with a white tee shirt and a plaid button-down shirt.

As I descended the stairs, I saw her standing on the patio dressed in a loose-fitting maroon cashmere turtleneck sweater with black trousers, with Dodi by her side. He just fancies her way too much, just like everyone else.

Her hair were cascading down her shoulders, flying in all directions from fall air, and her arms are wrapped around herself to fight the chill of the weather.

I stood next to her and nonchalantly slid my arm around her waist, pulling her closer to me. Dodi decided to bark in case his presence wasn’t acknowledged already.

I guess it caught her off guard, and she turned in my arm to look at me with shock while I looked straight ahead at the car that stopped at our car porch. I don’t know what shocked her more—the fact that I was holding her close or that I came at all.

Maybe both.

I finally met her eyes; her fastened heartbeat was an indication that maybe there was a third reason that we were both unaware of.

“Aww, look at you two love birds, unable to keep your hands off of each other.” Her face turned red, and she embarrassingly looked down, then at the source of the voice.

Her embarrassed expression changed to what could be the most breathtaking smile in an instant. Her eyes shone with glee, their glistening more prominent in the night light. She almost ran down the porch like a child, having no care in the world, and threw her arms around whom I remember from the wedding to be her paternal aunt.

She seemed the happiest I’ve seen her in all these months.

You haven’t given her anything to be happy about.

“Aww, Hannah Banana, I missed you.” Her uncle said as they hugged the life out of each other.

She was overwhelmed; I could tell by the tears in her eyes.

How long has it been since she met them?

I realized only I looked awkward standing alone at a distance staring at them while they were having their family reunion. I walked towards them and shook hands with her uncle, hugged her aunt, and fist-bumped the teenage boy, who I guess is their son, Neil.

I sensed her looking at me cynically, and I gave her an assured silent nod, trying to indicate that she’s got nothing to worry about. I guess she understood because she visibly relaxed.

Everyone settled down into the living room and got into talking, and while Hannah chatted with her aunt and cousin, I got stuck with her uncle. He seems like a cool guy; he told me he was an army veteran before he finally joined his father’s shipment and logistics business.

We lied about a few questions thrown our way regarding our honeymoon; our answer was that we were busy with work and didn’t get time. Hannah didn’t say anything about her resignation.

I realized all of a sudden that she invited her family for dinner, but she didn’t cook anything. I know for a fact that she was in her room sleeping before getting ready.

Don’t ask me how I know. I might have peaked once or twice.

“Excuse me for a while. Hannah?” I gestured for her to follow and went to the kitchen.

“What?” Her tone was rather dry, which I didn’t like one bit.

“You called them for dinner?” I asked when we were out of hearing distance from others.

“How’s that still a question? I told you, didn’t I? She scrunched her eyes in mockery.

“Then where is it?” I tucked my hands in my pants’s pockets.

“Where’s what?” It still didn’t occur to her.

“The dinner, Hannah.”

“That I orde...” Her eyes bulged out of their sockets as realization hit her: “I forgot to place the order, shit!” I saw panic in her eyes. “It must’ve been the fever; it might have slipped out of my mind, I might have slept, or I don’t know how I forgot.” She blabbered on for a while about being irresponsible while I continued looking at her in amusement.

“Where are you going now?” I asked when I saw her turning to leave.

“To place an order now, The dinner will get late, but at least we’ll have dinner. God, this is embarrassing.” She smacked her head lightly, and I fought an involuntary smile that threatened to break. Man, she’s dramatic.

“Can’t you cook?” I asked to clear my suspicion, but I believe I know the answer already.

“Which part of the frozen-items-empty-refrigerator screams I cook to you? I can’t cook to save my life,” she said in frustration. “Now, stop wasting my time and let me go.”

“I’ll cook,” I cut her off nonchalantly.

“You can cook?” She looked at me like I was an alien.

“And that’s so hard to believe, why?” I folded my arms.

“Why would you help me?” She folded her arms, mimicking my actions. “You’re the last person on this planet I’ll take favors from, who knows you might poison us all,” she said with absolute conviction.

“Don't worry, I won't commit a mass murder and I’m not doing this as a favor, Hannah,” what amazed me was that she was not joking.

“You’re not? It's quite hard to believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart, considering you don’t have one,” she shrugged. Even when she’s sick, her sarcasm game is strong.

“How do you know? Have you searched for it?” As anticipated, she was taken aback. Usually, I’m not the one to indulge in such banter, but with her, it’s different.

She brings out a different side of me and not a good one.

“I didn’t have to; it was quite transparent from the start,” she retorted back, her eyes hardened to hide the effect of her words.

I gulped, knowing very well what she meant. Guilt once again made its way to the surface, but I pushed it back.

“Your family is waiting outside.” With a straight face, I closed the distance between us. “Now you can either embarrass yourself and open the state of this marriage in front of them, which I doubt you will, or you can go outside while I cook, keeping the illusion of a “perfect couple” intact, at least to those who don’t know.” I looked at her with intensity to let my words sink in and she reciprocated my stare with the same fervor.

“How ironic,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Do whatever you want.” How proud can she be to accept my help?

“Put your arms around me,” I said all of a sudden.

“What? No,” she looked aghast and stepped back in an instant, but I held her hands and pulled her right back, resulting in an impactful collision of our bodies; her hands held my shirt on their own while mine held her closer by gripping her waist, might I add rather possessively.

Her heartbeat fastened and I can say the same about me, having her so close calms me but incites me at the same time. No matter what I do, my eyes refuse to wither from her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she retaliated once she realized what has happened.

“Just play along; your aunt’s coming our way,” I explained.

“So what?” she whispered.

“So you’d rather let her see us fighting or, like this, being in love?” I tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear and whispered back. I could feel the goosebumps on her body from the way her eyes changed.

“This is so unnecessary, not needed at all,” she protested again.

Maybe she’s right.

“You still have a fever?" I rather asked as I could feel the heat of her body now that we were so close.

“None of your concern,” she spat back.

“You’re too stubborn, you know that?” I asked out of curiosity.

“You’re an asshole, do you know that?” She challenged me, clenching hard on my shirt.

“Ahem, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I'd be intruding.” Claudia peaked in the kitchen.

“Oh no, you’re not; we were just... sorry,” Hannah said as we pretended to sheepishly detach from each other. I can’t say I didn’t immediately miss our closeness.

“Oh, don’t be silly, darling; we were all young and in love once,” she winked at us.

Okay, I can see the family genes.

“You still are in love, Aunt Claw, and you still act young, though you’re not,” she said, rolling her eyes with a smile.

You can tell they’re fond of each other by how relaxed she feels.

“As one should,” she insinuated with the content smile of a happy woman. “So, is anyone cooking, or do you both survive on romance?” She changed the topic, but not without making an embarrassing remark.

“That would be me,” I said as I went behind the counter to start making the food, and more so to avoid being a part of an awkward situation.

If only she knew the romance that goes on around here.

You sound rather disappointed at the lack of it.

“And that’s our cue to leave you alone,” I know she wanted out of this too; the sooner the better. “Come on, Aunt Claw, let’s go.”

“You go ahead, Hannah; I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” She clearly had other plans. “I’ll just chat with Elijah; get to know him a little, you know.” Hannah looked at me with a look of horror on her face, like this was a bad idea. Her eyes held an unsaid fear of how it could blow on our faces.

“I thought you came here to meet me,” she pouted to show fake hurt, and man, it stirred something in me.

She looked so cute and innocent in that moment that I just couldn’t look away.

“Of course I did, but so did I come to meet him,” her puppy dog eyes clearly didn’t work on her aunt.

“You’re just going to interview him and grill him alive, aren’t you?” Hannah squinted her eyes at her.

“Ah, when have I ever done such a thing, young lady?” She put her hands on her chest, pretending to be shocked. “Don’t worry, darling, your man is safe with me... or not,” she shrugged. I could tell she was deliberately teasing her.

“I’m right here,” I decided to remind them of my presence. “Don’t worry, Hannah, I’ll be alright.” I don’t know what I assured her of, but I did.

“Whatever, but this is on you and not me.” She pointed a finger at me, "For your sanity, ignore all she says," with a warning she left.

The second she left, my cellphone vibrated, indicating a text from her, reading:

‘Be careful; she can be very sneaky and tricky.’

“It’s her, isn’t it? Telling you to be careful,” she smiled with fondness. I tucked the phone back in my pocket without replying.

“You know her well.” I started the conversation knowing it was not something I could avoid if we had to keep our façade intact.

Funny to see how you are going to lengths and out of your comfort zone to keep it intact considering you didn’t have a problem breaking it before, multiple times, in fact. Is this, by any means, an attempt to overcome your guilt and get into her good books?

“Of course, I’ve raised her. Or maybe she raised herself.” Her eyes held sadness. “But now it’s good to know she has you to rely on and take care of her.” She looked at me for confirmation. “She has you, right?"

“Of course,” I said, finding it hard to  meet her eyes.

It’s one thing to be called out for things you do, but it's a whole other thing when you’re called out for things that you don't do. She has anything but me, and to blatantly lie about it kind of stinks.

“Let’s get to the point then, shall we? Knowing her, she’ll be back any minute now,” she said, getting all serious all of a sudden. Her tone completely shifted, “You know why we came here today? To check up on her not because she has a fever but because I know she’s avoiding us, though she says she’s busy.” Okay, I wasn’t ready to indulge in such a conversation.

Maybe she is tricky and sneaky.

“It’s not like that; we’re just very occupied with the new project,” I said while chopping veggies.

“She hasn't met us since the day of your wedding, it says a lot about avoiding, I guess," what, she hasn't? I tried to hide my astonishment, "Don’t mind me being so direct; I’m just looking out for my niece, she doesn't have a lot of people to do that. So, tell me how are you both getting along considering the circumstances in which you guys got married?”

“Why don’t you ask her?" I asked back.

“Because I know she’ll say everything is fine.”

“And you don’t believe her?”

“Knowing her, I’d say no.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know her and her patterns. She’s fierce to the point of being self-sacrificial," she paused then started again, "She lost her mother very young; she was just 7. Zach took Abigail’s death the hardest, worse than Hannah did. To be fair, I think she was too young to even understand the concept of life and death. We were also living in another state because of Brad’s posting, so Hannah had to put on her big girl shoes when she was merely a child herself, taking care of herself and her absent alcoholic father, since then whenever I ask her about herself, she says she's fine when she's clearly not. She’s so used to taking care of others that she forgets that she needs to be taken care of too. She’d do anything for Zach; she craved his love and still does, though it has repeatedly hurt her. She downplays her pain like it’s not a big deal, and unfortunately, she’s become so good at hiding it that one might think she’s the happiest and most carefree person in the world. All this tough act just so she can spare burdening others. She’s an extraordinary girl who doesn’t know how special she is. Her pretend game is so strong that she can fool anybody, but deep down she is just afraid of love and loss. So yes, when she tells me she’s okay, I more than often do not believe her.” I felt an unsettling fall in the pit of my stomach at what she said.

It can’t be true, right?

I thought of her as a spoilt child, never realizing how mature she was and how she had gone through so much.

I treated her horribly all this while, but did she really not tell anybody about it? Why?

Guilt engulfed me once again at how I misunderstood her and only added to her misery.

Heavy silence reigned in the now dense environment of the kitchen; she didn’t say anything further and I couldn’t stop thinking about all that she told me.

“It’s a work in progress. We’re taking it slow, learning about each other along the way. Some days are better than others.” I mixed a little truth in a bigger lie to make it seem plausible. I couldn't say much to convince her because there was nothing more to be said.

“It’ll take a lot on your part, you know, the effort to make it work," she looked for assurance, "All her life, she’s avoided attachments—anything that can remotely make her vulnerable to someone else; she doesn’t want any part of it; anything that can make her weak. So before anyone can break her walls or try to love her, she steps out before it reaches a point of value to her. She’s not rebellious like other people her age; she just recoils in her shell. I don’t agree with her, but I don’t blame her either.”

The more I listened to her, the more it disturbed me.

Can it be that I was wrong all along?

Did I see her as a completely different person than she is just because I wanted to believe that, or is she really as good at masking it as her aunt says?

Do I know her at all?

But then again, I never tried to get to know her in the first place.

And neither did she try to show me her real self.

And why do I want to believe a stranger?

What if her aunt is lying? I mean, all this doesn’t change the fact that this is a contract marriage; she herself admitted she’s in it for fame and money.

Because deep down, you know what the truth is; you just don’t want to believe it. Because, just like her, you’re also too afraid to put down your walls.

“You’d have to try very hard to break her walls if this marriage is to work because her fears of getting hurt surpass her need for love. You’d have to show her what it means to be in love and how amazing a feeling it is, and even if it might hurt her, it’s worth it.”

I wanted to tell her how I, of all the people, wasn’t the best choice to make it happen; in fact, I was the worst.

“Why are you telling me all this?” I finally asked what was bugging me all this time.

“Because I can see something in your eyes for her that I haven’t seen in hers for you.” To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

For some reason, I couldn’t deny it, nor could I accept it.

And the troubling part is that it has nothing to do with putting up a show for the guests.

“Women’s walls usually aren't that hard to break; it’s just that men don’t give in the required effort to do so. It might be a lot on your part, but start with just being there for her; it’s very easy to love her, it's all she needs and once you give in to that feeling, then trust me, it’ll only get easier from there.” I didn’t know what to say to that or how to react.

To be honest, I’m not sure I want to do that in the first place. I think it’s smart of her to not want to love someone; I did, and look what it has given me—only pain.

Deny it all you want, but you know you want to, or maybe you already have; you’re just too stubborn to admit it. Giving it another shot doesn’t seem like such a bad idea, now does it?

“If I ask you something, will you answer me honestly?” I stopped what I was doing and gave her my full attention, determined to get answers.

“If I can, I will. No promises.”

“If she’s as afraid as you say she is, why did she decide to marry a complete stranger? Isn’t it frightening, too?” I don’t know if I should’ve asked her this or not, but something tells me Hannah would never tell, so she seemed like my best bet.

And I have to know this. Because so far I’m unable to understand why she did it; if money and fame were what she was actually after, then in these four months why hasn’t she acted on it? All she’s gotten out of this marriage is hurt and humiliation.

“As I said, she’d do anything for Zach’s...”

“We’ve been waiting for you by the pool, and you took forever to come.” Our conversation was cut short as Hannah barged in.

Of all the moments, she had to choose this to interrupt. Has she been listening in on our conversation? I doubt it; otherwise, I would’ve spotted her peaking.

“Well, I was just helping Elijah, something you don’t do,” She stirred the pan I was cooking in and gave me a knowing look.

I know by help she didn’t mean cooking.

“He’s a big boy; he can manage, I’m sure,” she said, looking at me for confirmation.

“She’s right, you guys go ahead. I can manage this,” I took the spatula from her hands. “Thank you for your help.” I nodded in acknowledgment.

“Anything for my baby,” she said. She held Hannah’s hand, nodded at me, and they both went out.

While I stood there, unable to understand what to make of it.

If she’s right, does it change everything?

My hatred for her was for nothing?

Was I mistaken to understand Hannah?

And most importantly,

What is it that she saw in my eyes?

………………………………………………………

Author’s Note:

Elijah’s turmoil is increasing with every revelation; his beliefs are shattering, proving him not only wrong but culpable in his own eyes, too.

Still, he’s holding on to the last of the fraction of his broken ego. It’s breaking down, no matter how much he tries to keep it intact.

Meanwhile, Hannah is feeling devoid of all her emotions. As much as it kills her to be around Elijah, she knows she has to play along, or else her cover blows up. Talk about being stuck in a situation with no way out.

But as hurt as she is, a little part unknown to her feels something for him. She’s just unaware of it yet.

Elijah is also finding it difficult to accept his mistakes and remorse, something he hasn’t felt before.

Aunt Claw is out here laying it out for them word for word, but who knows how long it will take for them to register the pull they obviously feel towards each other?

How long before they let themselves go in the tides of what could be an epic love?

Stay seated to find out!

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