Chapter Five : in here

I watched on blankly.

“Oh dear Lord dear, come here, you gave me quite the scare.” I had no idea why I didn't think her mother would be somewhere around.

My heart pulsed further with guilt.

Lynnie shrugged off the woman's arms around her though, her eyes glaring daggers only a De La Rosa could manage.

“You're not my mommy.” Her tiny voice sounded annoyed and hurt.

The lady looked like Lynnie’s words did nothing to move her. She maintained a smile on her face. Her eyes following Lynnie's figure who moved to stand by my bedside like she was seeking comfort and for some reason, my hands instinctly moved to rub her back.

She blinked at me, her lips parting, “who's this?” She demanded, her eyes calculative.

“She's a guest Miss Hilda.” Mrs. Taylor finally spoke from the side.

Hilda's eye's skeptically ran over me and they narrowed like she didn't believe a words of that but she schooled her features like a pro and pulled her charming smile back on like a dress.

“Of course.” She hummed before slamming the door shut and walking away.

I let out a breathe I didn't know I was holding. My body humming from being tensed.

Lynnie's tiny form climbed onto the bed and cuddled my side, I warmly put my arm around her waist. She looked clearly upset and she wasn't the only one who needed comfort.

“She's not your mom?” I found myself whispering and she shook her head, her tiny lips in a pout and her dark curls falling around her.

“She's daddy's girlfriend.”

Oh.

I didn't prode further, just held her.

“Giselle?” My drained eyes looked at the cutest child I'd ever seen.

“Yes.” I whispered.

“Can we do it again?” She asked, the purest smile etched on her face. My brows creased.

“Do what?”

“Speak to your baby, in here.” She pointed to my belly and my heart clenched.

An unfathomable grief slamming into me, hard and I shut my eyes closed, her eyes shined with such innocence that it physically hurt me.

I wanted to be as clueless as she was.

“Lynnie-” Mrs. Taylor interrupted, her voice laced with shock but I ignored it, focusing on Lynnie.

“Okay.” I choked, placing my trembling hand over hers on my belly. “Okay.” I breathed again.

And that's what we did, spoke to my dead child for hours.

Pretending my pain didn't exist.

The next thing I remember is being woken up by Mrs. Taylor as she she shook up a very sleepy Lynnie awake from beside me, I smiled softly at her but my smile vanishing the second I recognized a presence in the room.

“Daddy.” Lynnie paddled to the couch across the room, climbing into the thighs of my nightmare.

How long had he been sitting there?

I could feel those dark eyes burning holes into my flesh but I didn't dare look up at him.

“Hii baby.” Lynnie's soft giggles filled the room like she was being tickled but I couldn't find the strength in me to imagine that brooding father of hers being playful.

“Daddy stop.” She squealed in delight.

“Come on, dinner.” He ordered, his voice gentle.

“Wait.” I heard her say and then her tiny feets ran in my direction.

“Giselle come on.” My shoulders stiffened as my eyes found her hopeful ones and I shook my head.

“N-no Lynnie, I can't-” I began.

“Come on please, have dinner with me.” She batted those weaponry lashes of hers, her shoulders deflating at the look in my eyes then those determined eyes turned to her father without a word.

I heard a long sigh before his voice resounded through the room. “You can come down for dinner.” He commanded, not looking at me but I knew who he was spoke to.

I stiffly watched little Lynnie leap in joy as she ran towards her father, not after telling me she'd be waiting for me.

My back dropped onto my pillow in exhaustion.

“If you're not up for it, I can inform Mr. De La Rosa on your behalf, he'd understand. The doctor instructed not to put too much strain on yourself, not physically or mentally, your body is still too weak.” Mrs. Taylor softly Informed me.

I'd forgotten she was still in here.

I looked up at the heavy, luxurious chandelier above me as I shook my head.

“I'll go, I don't mind.” I lied through my teeth.

I did mind.

But I could have been facing harsher challenges, like being locked down in some cellar.

It was the first time I was being in the midst of people for hours without being mistreated, slapped around or talked down on.

I had what looked like a semblance of external peace for the first time in almost my entire life.

A tense dinner with a beautiful seven year old yapping on and on was the least of my worries.

With Mrs. Taylor's help and my temporary crutches, I was able to make it downstairs.

The small exercise had my body aching tremendously and my breathes coming out in heavy pants.

Sweat lingered on my forehead even with the air condition.

“I'm okay.” I whispered to little Lynnie, staring at me like I was an alien with a funny expression on her face.

A little more pushes and Mrs. Taylor helped me seat on the chair sweet Lynnie pulled out.

“Does it hurt a lot?” Her inquisitive eyes asked and I shook my head, numbly.

More than you know.

My eyes scanned the room to find it empty. Like she could read my mind, her upset voice complained.

“Daddy left to go get his girlfriend.”

Oh.

I nodded, my back tensing even more than before.

In no time, murmuring voices drifted into the room.

The gorgeous lady, Hilda walked gracefully into the room, Lynnie's bored looking father beside her.

She kept speaking to him animatedly but he barely looked towards her, his eyes straight on his child and then catching mine.

The lady's chanting comes to an abrupt stop when she finds me seated at the dinner table.

“W-what is she doing at the table Romero?” Her tone, demanding.

The man in question doesn't respond immediately, he settles down on his chair, his eyes blank but focused on one entity, his daughter.

He pulled a playful Lynnie, standing on her chair to sit down, tenderly like she was made of glass.

“Eating.” He answered without looking in her direction.

“I don't want her eating on the table with us.” She said, her voice tight and her accusatory eyes on me.

“She caused harm to your child, Romero. How can you allow someone so filthy share a table with us?” She screeched in disdain and heart constricted in my chest.

“It's not your decision to make.” The man casually remarked, now placing food on his daughter's plate.

“Romero.” She let out a deafening screech and I winced.