Chapter 13: Torn Between Two World
997 Words
"This isn’t over, you know."
My mother’s words cut through the air, her keen stare resting on me and Alexander. A cold ran across my chest, my fingers squeezing over Alexander’s. He didn’t move. He stood steady, his presence strong alongside me.
My heart thudded in my ribs. My mother’s anger was nothing new, but this time, it seemed different—like an unsaid battle had been declared.
Alexander didn’t move, didn’t talk. He merely held my hand, his hold strong, like an unbreakable vow.
But could we fight this together? Could I?
---
The instant I walked inside, the weight of my childhood house fell on me. The familiar scent of new bread and old wood filled my breath, but there was no comfort in it. My mother had always kept our home clean, although I never felt at ease there.
She marched forward, her back stiff, her quiet heavier than any words she could have said. I knew what was coming.
I looked at Alexander. His jaw was tight, his countenance unreadable. I could feel the stress in his stance. He wasn’t accustomed to this—to being a stranger in someone else’s world.
And yet, he had followed me here to see my poor home.
We stepped into the living room, the air dense with unsaid worry. My mother turned to face me, her eyes skimming across Alexander before falling on me with calm dissatisfaction.
"You should have come alone."
My chest clenched. "Mom, I—"
"This isn’t about him, Isabella. This is about your father."
"What’s going on?" I asked.
She stopped, and for the first time, I noticed something in her expression—something similar to fear.
"Your father isn’t well."
The words threw a jolt through me. "What?"
She squeezed her lips together, her eyes sparkling. "He had a heart attack. He’s steady, but… the doctors say he needs rest. He’s been asking for you."
I drew a worried breath, my head spinning. My father and I have never been close because he is so reserved and more focused on his job than on me. But now, knowing he was lying in a hospital bed, begging for me…
I looked at Alexander, and for the first time since we came, doubt flared in his eyes.
"Go and see him," he pushed, his voice low.
It should have been a simple choice. But it wasn’t.
Because I knew what this meant.
If I walked back into my father’s life, I wasn’t simply visiting. I was giving them a chance. A chance to bring me back to the life they had always pictured for me.
My mother must have noticed the hesitation on my face because she came closer, dropping her voice.
"Isabella, your father needs you. And whether you like it or not, you are still a part of this family."
A chilly weight settled in my gut.
Was I? I asked.
---
I left home without speaking. I needed air. Space.
Alexander followed me. He didn’t ask questions. He merely strolled behind me as I paced down the tiny road leading to the backyard.
Finally, I paused, putting a hand to my face.
"This is what they do," I mumbled, my voice shaking. "They make me feel bad. They bring me back to life I thought I had left."
Alexander was silent, observing me. Then, he muttered, "You are not going back, darling, your father needs you more than ever now."
I turned to him. "He is my father, Alexander; you don’t know what I passed through that man's hand."
His jaw clenched. "Irrespective of what, you need to. Isn’t he your father?"
The question affected me harder than I expected.
I shook my head, my voice cracking. "I do not know."
He sighed, running his hand around my waist. "I hate this. I regret that I can’t fix this for you."
I blinked, surprised.
"You don’t have a choice," he said, his voice scratchy. “ I hate that I can’t do anything about it."
I glanced at him, my chest tightening.
Alexander Steele—the guy who always had control, who always had the upper hand—was standing in front of me, feeling he could meet my father for me.
And just like that, the weight in my chest relaxed.
I walked forward to him and grabbed his hand. His fingers curled over mine.
"You don’t have to fix it," I mumbled quietly. "You just have to be here for me."
Something flared in his gaze.
And then, before I could think, I leaned and crushed my lips to his.
Then, he kissed me back slowly, his hands pressing my boot.
It wasn’t simply a kiss. It was a reaction.
An answer to all I had been afraid of.
When we broke apart, I mumbled, "I’m ready."
His brows wrinkled. "For what?"
I took a breath, my heart pounding. "For us. For whatever the outcome of our journey is."
His grasp on me increased. "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Yes."
A smile tickled his lips. "Then we will work this out. Together."
I felt something different after so many years of leaving Greg; I wasn’t standing alone.
---
When we walked back into the house, holding each other's hands, my mother was waiting.
She didn’t look surprised seeing us like that. She looked… prepared.
Her eyes glanced between Alexander and me, squeezing her lips.
"You have made your choice?"
I straightened my shoulders, my hand holding Alexander. "Yes."
A slow, chilly grin reached her lips. "Then you should know—this is not over, my daughter."
The words made me confused about what she meant by not over, but I didn’t back down.
Neither did Alexander.
I had no clue what was coming next.
But I knew one thing.
I wasn’t running anymore.
What was my mother planning? And how far would she go to make sure I stayed under her control?
Find out in the next chapter!
- Writer
