Chapter 4: Meeting With Grandpa

I walked into the cafe, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the sound of chatter and laughter. It was one of my favorite spots in the city. Include her long floral dress with red heels, red nails, and red lipstick. I wore a long floral dress that fluttered around my ankles as I moved, paired with red heels that clicked softly against the tiled floor. My red nails and matching red lipstick completed the look, a stark contrast to my black hair, which framed my face like a dark halo. My green eyes scanned the cafe, taking in the familiar sights and sounds.

The door chimed as I entered, and a familiar security guard snapped to attention. "Welcome, Ma'am," he greeted me with a respectful bow.

With a small smile, I thanked him and made my way towards my usual table in the corner. The booth, nestled against a bookshelf overflowing with travel guides and well-loved novels. Today, however, the table wasn't empty. My grandfather sat there, his back ramrod straight despite his age, a warm smile creasing the corners of his weathered face. He wore a tweed jacket that spoke of old money. His kind eyes lit up with a smile as he caught sight of me.

I kissed his cheeks and took a seat opposite him.

"Anastasia, my dear," he softly said which always put me at ease. "It's so good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, Grandpa,"

He studied me for a moment. But I quickly averted my gaze, focusing instead on the menu in front of me.

"How have you been, Anastasia?"

I hesitated for a moment. "Um… I've been fine, Grandpa. Just busy with the house" I lied, forcing a smile onto my face. It felt hollow, a cheap imitation of genuine happiness. My voice sounded distant, even to my own ears. I pushed away the nagging voice in the back of my mind, the one whispering the truth I couldn't bear to admit, not even to him.

He nodded slowly, seemingly accepting my answer at face value. But I knew him better than that. I could see the concern lingering in his eyes. It was as if he could see right through the facade I was desperately trying to maintain.

"Anyways, thank you for the birthday gift, Grandpa," I added.

“Have you given a thought about trying piano again?” he softly asked.

“Um…. no. I haven’t given it thought” I took a deep breath, “Anyways, how’s your trip to Alaska?”

“It was quite the adventure. You should have seen the glaciers, my dear."

"I can only imagine.”

"And the wildlife!" he exclaimed, "I saw a pod of whales breaching in the distance. It was truly a sight to behold."

I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. He deserved rest and went on trips a lot. But then, inevitably, the conversation turned to Regan, and I felt a knot form in the pit of my stomach.

"Before I forget, what did Regan get you for your birthday, my dear?" His voice filled with a fondness for my husband that always twisted my insides. He truly adored Regan and saw him as the perfect partner for his granddaughter.

I froze, my mind scrambling for an answer. "Oh, uh, Regan got me a dress," I blurted out, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them. It was a lie, a pathetic attempt to maintain the image of a happy marriage, but in that moment, it seemed easier than facing the truth.

To my relief, my grandfather seemed to accept it, nodding in approval as he took a sip of his tea. But as I watched him, a pang of guilt gnawed at my heart. Here I was, sitting across from the man who loved me unconditionally, lying to him to protect a loveless marriage. 

His next words surprised me. "I think that was the only good decision we made for you. To marry Regan."

I forced a smile, the gesture tight and brittle around the edges. I couldn't bring myself to agree.  There was a time, perhaps when Regan had seemed like a good choice. A dream come true for me. Heir to a prestigious company, someone I’m attracted to, he had fit the mold of the perfect husband. But somewhere along the way, a part of me knows that my marriage has broken me more than I admit.

"Anyway, has your father been in touch at all?"

I shook my head. "No, not even a text. But Marina visited me on my birthday, asking about my inheritance."

His brow furrowed in disapproval. I couldn't bring myself to meet his gaze. I couldn't bear to see the pity and sympathy that I knew would be reflected there.  My relationship with my father had always been strained, a constant power struggle between his desires and my own.  And Marina, my stepmother, was no better.

"And your brothers?"

"They haven't bothered to visit either. Well, I didn't expect them to." 

With a sigh, he gently steered the conversation away from the topic of my troubled family. "So, what are your plans for later? Should we go shopping? I can accompany you."

"Thanks, Grandpa but my best friend Sheila is coming over.”

"That sounds lovely. It's always good to spend time with friends.  And go for a trip sometime, Anastasia. Go with your husband or Sheila."

A sad smile formed on my lips. A trip with Regan seemed like an impossible dream.