Chapter 37 - Last Chances 

The only sound in the kitchen was the humming of the refrigerator and the soft clinking of the glass Ayra placed on the counter. 

The cold milk she had poured only moments before seemed suddenly not so appealing; her appetite had vanished in the tornado of feelings whirling within her. 

Ayra gazed into the pale liquid, her mind running over and over Lisbeth's behavior.

She couldn't shake off this feeling that her family was floating further and further away from her, and that they really didn't care. 

Unfortunately, no matter how much she liked to pretend otherwise, she was the only one who cared. 

The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Ayra looked up just as Ferdinand entered the kitchen.

He was casually dressed. His shirt sleeves rolled up, looking every bit the confident, driven man she had admired as a child. He paused mid-step as he noticed her.

"Ayra," he said as a wide smile broke across his face. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I couldn't sleep," she replied, her voice soft as she stood straighter.

"Well, neither could I. Too many things on my mind these days." He opened the refrigerator, rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a bottle of water. 

Ferdinand twisted the cap off, took a long sip, and then leaned against the counter. "So, what's bothering you, sweetheart?"

It was such an easy, normal question, but it felt like a lifeline. Ayra hesitated, her fingers tightening on the glass.

A sip of his water, and Ayra stammered over her words. The lump in her throat started to swell, and hating herself for it, she pressed on.

"Well, I was just thinking about everything," she ventured, tentatively. The words fell slow as she attempted to read his mood. "About Lisbeth and… everything that happened lately."

Ferdinand raised an eyebrow. "Lisbeth? Let me guess, she said something to upset you?"

Ayra nodded, biting her lip. "She stormed into my room tonight, yelling at me. She said I was selfish for running away and-" Her voice cracked slightly. Despite herself, Lisbeth's words stung. "And that I'm ruining everything.

Ferdinand's face didn't change, but an eyebrow did rise. "Lisbeth has always been blunt. You should know that by now."

"It wasn't just bluntness," Ayra said, fighting to piece together what was in her mind. "She was cruel. She called me selfish and reckless, and she said I was dragging the family's name through the mud.

Ferdinand set his glass down with a soft clink. "Well, aren't you?" he said, tone light but the words slicing.

Ayra winced, her heart plummeting. She was starting to develop a dreadful feeling about this conversation. "I didn't mean to… I didn't think -"

Ferdinand sighed and set the bottle of water on the counter. "Lisbeth's always had a hot head, a sharp tongue to boot. Don't take it to heart.

"But it's more than that," Ayra pressed. She realized her voice had risen slightly and then toned it down. 

She didn't want their conversation to devolve into another shouting match. Perhaps she still thought that the father she knew - the one who would shield her from everything and anything - still lurked within the man before her.

She acted like it's owed to everybody for me to just go along with whatever's decided for me. She kept talking about family honour and responsibilities - things that never mattered to her before. 

And now it's like…" She fumbled as her emotions welled precariously close to the surface. "It's like I don't matter.

Ayra was fishing for information. She had no idea what was actually going on behind the scenes, but something was telling her she would want to know. 

The hard lines in Ferdinand's face momentarily softened, and he reached out, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Ayra, don't be so dramatic. Of course, you matter. You're my daughter, and you're part of this family.

For a moment, his words soothed her, but then his expression shifted, his usual spirited enthusiasm creeping back into his tone. 

"But you have to understand something. Life isn't always about what we want. Sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good. For the future."

Her stomach twisted uneasily at his words. 

"Sacrifices?" she echoed.

"Yes, sacrifices." He straightened, his voice growing more animated as he gestured with his hands. 

"Do you think I got to where I am today by doing only what I wanted? No, Ayra. I made choices - hard choices - to ensure success. And now, it's your turn to do the same."

The tension thickened in the air, and Ayra clutched her glass tightly. This wasn't going where she wanted. 

Three days without seeing him must have blurred the fact that he did not particularly care for Ayra's opinion. She had come prepared to meet the doting father she knew. 

"But I didn't ask for this," she said softly.

"No one ever does," Ferdinand said curtly. 

"But that doesn't mean you can run away from it. You have responsibilities, Ayra. Running away like this, causing all this chaos. Do you have any idea what kind of damage you could have done?"

She stared at him, reeling in her mind. "I thought… I thought I mattered most. Not the legacy, not the responsibilities. Me."

Ferdinand chuckled, as though he was endeared by her naivety. "Of course, you matter, Ayra. That is why I try to guide you. But you must grow up and understand the larger picture."

"The larger picture?" she echoed. “The larger picture is that of me getting forced into a life that I do not want to live in; into marrying someone with whom I never agreed upon the alliance. Where is justice? Where is love in it?”

"But you signed the contract," her father said with a smile that Ayra felt was supposed to be cheeky. It only made her feel nauseous. 

"Don't bring that up," Ayra said immediately, her face hardening. 

His smile faltered slightly, and for a brief moment, a flicker of frustration crossed his face. "Ayra, fair has nothing to do with it. This is about what's necessary. What's right for the family."

Ayra felt a vague sense of having heard that already, and even expecting this, his words were a kind of slap; Ayra drew back, racing heart thudding. 

"Necessary for whom?" she demanded, voice rising against her will. 

“For you? For Lisbeth? Because it decidedly isn't for me!”

His eyes flashed darkly and he moved in closer. "You think your life is yours to decide? You think you have the luxury of making your own choices?"

She blinked, startled by the sudden turn in him. "I just - wait, what?

Ferdinand heaved a heavier sigh and treated Ayra like a disobedient child. "You're being emotional, Ayra. You're too young to understand these things now, but one day you'll thank me."

"Thank you?" she repeated. "You must be delusional. Thank you for what? For treating me like a pawn in your games? For deciding my life for me?

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "You're not a pawn. You're part of something bigger, something important. And you should be satisfied with that.”

Her vision blurred with tears she refused to shed. “I just wanted to talk to you,” she said quietly. Her voice was raw. 

“I wanted you to listen, to understand. But all you care about is the family and some vague greater good. Since when has that begun to influence your decisions? It's all just a desperate grab for power you're making!”

Ferdinand’s expression hardened, and he took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I care about you, Ayra. That’s why I’m doing this. You may not see it now, but everything I do is for you.”

She shook her head, her chest tightening. “No, it’s not. It’s for you. For your ego.”

“And so what?!” he snapped suddenly. “You’ve been given every privilege, every opportunity. Don't I deserve a reward? What's a bit more power? The soaring prestige that comes with being tied to the Director. Do you even grasp that?”

She looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, she saw a stranger. When did he become this man? 

When had she lost the father who used to tell her bedtime stories and promise her she could do anything she wanted?

In this same way, ten years ago, she had looked at Lisbeth and seen a stranger. She had realized that the sister she knew was gone. 

“I don’t even know who you are anymore,” she whispered. 

Ferdinand’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he picked up his water bottle and turned toward the door.

“Let me make this clear once and for all," he said over his shoulder. "I don’t care about your whims or feelings when they threaten to ruin my plans. Your job is to fall in line and do what’s expected of you. Nothing more.”

Her heart felt like it was shattering in her chest, but her anger overpowered her pain. 

“And what about Mom?” she demanded. “Did she ‘fall in line’? Did she do what was expected of her? You drove her away too, did you not? Right?! And I always wondered why she had fled!”