Chapter 14
1077 Words
Hazel’s POV
The soft hiss of the toaster was the only sound in the kitchen that morning.
I had just placed two slices of bread in and was spreading butter across another when I felt his presence.
I didn’t need to look up to know Simon had entered the kitchen. The air shifted whenever he was around; it became tighter and heavier.
The cook and house staff were all gone on Simon’s orders.
He said they were on mandatory leave but I knew better. He was still in the mafia and whenever one of his enemies slithered back into his turf, things had a way of going sideways.
He didn’t want witnesses if things went south that was why he sent them away.
I didn’t greet him as I didn't owe him that.
We had lived under the same roof for nearly three months but we haven't had a good talk. We were always bickering and lying in wait for when next we were going to exchange words.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
The words hung awkwardly in the air.
Squinting, I tilted my head to the side but I said nothing. I didn't want to believe that those words were spouted by Simon.
With a shrug, I returned my focus back on the butter I was spreading on the bread.
He rarely apologized. When he did, it was usually because he needed something or Amelia had compelled him to do so.
“I said I’m sorry, Hazel.” His voice was sharper this time but still I said nothing to him.
Pouting, I dropped the butter knife into the sink with a clatter and moved to the toaster. It popped the exact moment I got to it, startling me just a little.
While he watched, I slipped the warm bread into a plate and reached for the peanut butter.
Then came the slam.
He had slammed his fist against the kitchen table all of the sudden that I jumped out of my skin.
The sound which ricocheted off the walls, made the peanut butter jar slip from my hands and thudded on the counter.
“Goddamn it, Hazel,” he snapped. “Don’t act like this just because I’m trying to be decent.”
I straightened slowly and then turned to face him.
His dark eyes bore into me while I stared back with an expressionless look.
“Do you even hear yourself?” I asked, my voice quiet but laced with steel. “You slam your fist like a damn caveman and expect me to clap because you muttered an apology?”
His jaw clenched.
I was about to unload every word I had swallowed for months about how tired I was of his anger, his arrogance, the way he always expected me to bend but then—
“Are you two fighting again?” Her tiny voice cut clean through the tension.
We both turned toward the doorway.
Amelia stood there in her fluffy pink unicorn pajamas, blinking up at us with big brown eyes that made her look just like her father’s.
At just six years old, she had a way of diffusing even the darkest moments. She was the only human in this house that looked at me without contempt.
“No, sweetheart,” I said quickly, crouching to her level. “We were just having a loud... conversation.”
Frowning, she shifted her gaze to Simon, “You better say sorry to Hazel properly, Daddy, or I’m not coming home tonight.”
My eyes widened, and I smothered a laugh. “Amelia,” I whispered, pulling her closer, “don’t say things like that.”
“I mean it,” she said with a pout. “You’re always yelling, and Hazel’s always sad after your loud conversation with her.”
I froze.
Was it that obvious?
Has she noticed?
I glanced up at Simon.
His posture was stiff and jaw ticking. Her words didn't tick him off like mine would do.
Brushing the thought aside, I kissed Amelia’s forehead. “Go wash your hands for breakfast, I’ll finish up here.”
She nodded and ran off, her tiny feet padding against the marble floors.
When I stood, Simon was still staring at me.
“She sees everything you’re doing." I snapped, crossing my hands on my chest.
“And so what?" He huffed, pushing his hands into his pockets, his eyes never leaving my face even for a second.
“And so what? Is that all you have to say?" I gawked, staring at him with a face masked with unbelief.
A minute later, he turned his back on me and then walked away, leaving me stunned.
When Amelia returned, we went to have breakfast in the dining room. She didn't even bother asking about Simon when he didn't show up.
I was going to step in as their mediator during dinner. — I thought, passing her cup of warm milk to her.
“Have you seen Lina’s new hair?" She asked amidst mouthfuls.
"Not yet, I will look carefully when I come to pick you up.” I replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
For the rest of breakfast, she chattered about school and how she wanted to be a fairy when she grew up.
“You and Daddy used to fight a lot,” she said suddenly between bites.
“Really?” I asked, raising a brow.
She nodded solemnly. “Are you guys arch enemies or something?” She asked, her eyes fixed on me.
Laughing softly, I waved her off, "No way, your dad and I are siblings and siblings do fight a lot.”
"I’m not going to fight with my little sister and brother. I’m going to be different from you and dad.” She smacked her lips.
Pouting, she added, "Especially dad, he makes things difficult.”
“Do you hate him?” she asked, tilting her head.
My smile faltered.
Kids really didn’t hold back.
“No,” I answered after a pause. “I don’t hate him. He just… makes it hard to like him sometimes.”
“He’s going to say the same thing about you.” She giggled and I joined in.
“Touché.”
Reaching across the table, she held my hand, “I love you both. Maybe one day, you’ll be best friends.”
Giving her a soft smile, I said, “Maybe.”
- Writer
