Guests in the morning

Aurelia,

Without a try? Did he really just say that? My chest tightened as the words echoed in my head. He didn’t even have enough time to attend my father’s funeral. Didn’t have enough time to understand my pain. And now he wanted to “try” again? Did he think this was a business deal, something that could be renegotiated with a few empty words?

A wave of disappointment and rage washed over me, sharp and suffocating. My fingers curled into my palms as I walked downstairs, my steps restless, my jaw clenched so tightly it began to ache.

“Oh. Aurelia? Did Justin leave? I prepared dinner for him!”

My mother’s voice floated in from the kitchen, bright and cheerful. Too cheerful. It had been days since I last heard her sound like that, and the contrast made my stomach twist.

“Mom. What are you doing in the kitchen?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay calm despite the storm rising in my chest.

She turned and smiled at me, the lines around her eyes softening. “I wanted to cook some porridge for Justin. Did you see the bags under his eyes? I wonder how many hours he’s been working. Poor guy. Handling an entire company all alone!”

I froze for a second, staring at her as if I hadn’t heard her correctly. My throat went dry. She was cooking for a man who hadn’t even spared a moment for her daughter’s grief.

“Mom, listen.” I walked to the chair and sat at the kitchen counter, my movements stiff. “I know that you like him. But—”

“I know what you’re going to say!” Her voice softened as she interrupted, carefully placing a bowl on the counter. “His mother told me everything.”

“You know everything?” I asked, shock flickering across my face. My eyebrows pulled together instinctively.

“Yes.” She placed a plate beside the bowl and gently set two half-boiled eggs on it. “But I can’t blame him either. Since his father died, he’s been the one controlling the company.”

My fingers tapped lightly against the counter, the sound sharp in the quiet kitchen. “It doesn’t excuse the fact that he abandoned everything, Mom. At the end of the day, he neglected the people who were supposed to be his family.”

“I know.” She finally sat down, her shoulders sagging slightly, exhaustion slipping through her expression. “But is it worth leaving him?”

I didn’t answer immediately. My gaze dropped to the steam rising from the porridge. I loved him despite everything. That truth settled painfully in my chest. But when I needed him, he wasn’t there. And the worst part was that, except for the signature on our marriage certificate, there was nothing real in this marriage.

We had kissed twice. Once on our wedding day, and the second time on our wedding night.

Even then, it had felt like he was completing a chore.

“Mom.” I lifted my head and looked at her, my eyes burning slightly. “I want to experience a love that makes me feel valued and wanted. I don’t need a man who can kill for me or something dramatic. I need a man who will be there for me when I need him.” I grabbed the spoon and stirred the steaming porridge slowly, watching it swirl. “Right now, I want to choose myself. I will handle Dad’s company. That’s all I want to give my attention to.”

She studied my face for a long moment, then nodded, understanding settling into her tired gaze. “As you wish. You’re an adult now. Whatever you want, I will always support you.”

“Thanks, Mom. Right now, all I need is support.” I smiled, though it didn’t reach my eyes. Moving on from the very person you fell in love with wasn’t as easy as it sounded.

Next morning,

I woke up to the sound of hurried footsteps and hushed voices echoing through the hallway. My eyes fluttered open as unease crept in. I sat up slowly, stretched my arms, and listened for a moment before heading toward the door.

Just as I opened it, a servant, Leila, paused mid-step. “Good morning, Miss Wren!”

“What’s going on?” I asked, my brows knitting together as I scanned the hallway. My ears caught fragments of voices coming from downstairs, unfamiliar and low.

“Some guests have arrived. Madam is handling them.”

“Excuse me?” My eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s only six-thirty in the morning. What kind of guests visit at this hour?” A strange chill slid down my spine. I grabbed the shawl from the couch and wrapped it tightly around my shoulders.

Without waiting for another word, I headed downstairs, a growing sense of unease settling in my chest. Mom wasn’t in a good space to handle people who appeared out of nowhere, and something about this morning felt unsettlingly wrong.