Sweetest Revenge: falling for my ex's father

Chapter 6: Home Is the Hardest Place

Chapter 6: Home Is the Hardest Place

(Zara POV)

The walk from the bar to Jane’s place felt longer than usual, even though nothing about the distance had changed.

I kept replaying the same moment in my head.

I’ll pretend last night never happened.

It was the right thing for him to say. The only thing that made sense. And yet, the way he said it… calmly like it was already settled, left something sitting uncomfortably in my chest.

I told myself it didn’t matter.

It shouldn’t.

No one in their right mind would sleep with their ex’s father and expect anything good to come out of it. If anything, this was the cleanest way to end it before it became something worse.

So why did it feel like I had lost something I wasn’t even supposed to have?

I exhaled slowly and pushed the thought away as I turned into Jane’s street.

By the time I got to her door, I was already tired of my own thoughts.

I knocked lightly and leaned against the wall, waiting. A few seconds later, the door opened, and Jane stood there, already dressed for the day, her bag slung over her shoulder.

She took one look at me and frowned. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

“I didn’t,” I said simply, stepping inside.

She closed the door behind me, her eyes following me as I dropped my bag near the couch and sat down.

“What happened?” she asked.

I shook my head, leaning back. “Nothing I want to talk about.”

Jane crossed her arms. “That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I said, even though I knew she wouldn’t believe it.

She stared at me for a moment, like she was deciding whether to push or let it go. Then she sighed and grabbed her keys.

“Fine. Keep your secrets,” she muttered. “But don’t act like I won’t drag it out of you later.”

I almost smiled.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” I said.

“You better be,” she replied, heading for the door. “And don’t disappear again. I mean it.”

“I won’t.”

She hesitated for a second, then nodded and left.

The apartment went quiet after that.

Too quiet.

I sat there for a while, staring at nothing in particular, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the same place. His voice. His expression. The way everything between us had been reduced to something we were both supposed to forget.

It should have been easy.

It wasn’t.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and let out a slow breath.

“This is a mess,” I muttered under my breath.

And the worst part was, I couldn’t even blame anyone else for it.

---

I stayed at Jane’s for two nights.

She didn’t ask me to leave. She didn’t even hint at it. But I could feel it anyway, the quiet awareness that I was taking up space that wasn’t mine. Her routine, her mornings, her small sense of order everything had shifted slightly to make room for me and I didn’t want to be another thing she had to carry.

So on the third morning, I got up early, got dressed quietly, and left before she did.

I sent her a message as I walked out.

I’m heading home. I’ll call you later.

She replied almost immediately.

You sure?

I stared at the screen for a second before typing back.

I have to be.

That was the truth.

No matter how much I didn’t want to go back there, I couldn’t keep running from it.

The bus ride felt longer than it actually was. I sat by the window, watching the city pass by in a blur, my thoughts quieter now but heavier somehow.

By the time I got off, my chest already felt tight.

I stood in front of the house for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the familiar gate like it belonged to someone else.

Nothing about it had changed.

Same walls. Same windows. Same silence, and yet, just standing there, I could already feel it creeping back in that old, familiar weight.

The feeling of not belonging.

The memory of my father standing in that same house, looking at me like I was the problem that needed fixing.

I swallowed and shook it off before it could settle any deeper.

“Just go in,” I muttered to myself.

So I did.

The moment I stepped inside, the tension hit me immediately.

They were all there.

Ryan sat on the couch like he belonged there, like nothing had happened. Keisha was right beside him, her hand resting on his arm so naturally it made something twist in my chest. Her stomach was still flat, no visible sign of the pregnancy yet, but the way she carried herself made it clear she didn’t need one.

My stepmother sat across from them, composed and quiet, watching everything with the kind of calm that only came when things were going exactly the way she wanted.

And my father stood in the center of the room.

Not relaxed. Not welcoming.

Just… waiting.

The moment I walked in, all attention shifted to me.

For a second, no one spoke.

Then Keisha broke the silence.

“I didn’t think you’d come back so soon,” she said softly.

Her voice wasn’t loud or aggressive. If anything, it sounded fragile, like she was the one who had been hurt.

I didn’t respond. I just stood there, letting her continue.

“I’ve been really stressed,” she added, her hand moving lightly over her stomach. “The doctor said I should avoid anything upsetting, but after what happened the other day…” She trailed off, like she couldn’t even finish the thought.

My stepmother reached over and touched her arm gently. “You shouldn’t be talking about this,” she said, her tone soft but deliberate. “You need to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Keisha insisted quietly. “I just don’t understand why Zara would do something like that.”

Ryan didn’t say anything. He just sat there, his expression neutral, like this had nothing to do with him at all.

I looked at him for a second longer than I meant to, waiting for something anything.

An explanation. A denial. Even guilt.

There was nothing.

Of course there wasn’t.

“Zara,” my father’s voice cut in, firm and controlled.

I shifted my attention to him.

“This has gone on long enough,” he said. “Your sister is pregnant. She doesn’t need stress. This family doesn’t need more conflict.”

I almost laughed at that, but I held it back.

“This family,” I repeated quietly.

He ignored the tone.

“I want you to apologize,” he continued. “And we move forward from this.”

I glanced at Keisha and she met my eyes without hesitation.

There was no fear there. No uncertainty. Just quiet confidence.

She knew exactly how this would end, and for a second, I considered refusing. Saying everything I had been holding back. Letting it all out right there in front of all of them.

But then I looked at my father again, and I already knew that nothing I said would change anything.

It never had.

So I exhaled slowly and nodded once.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

The words felt empty the moment they left my mouth, but I didn’t let it show.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Keisha blinked, like she hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Then she gave a small, satisfied nod.

“It’s okay,” she said gently. “I just want us to be at peace.”

Of course you do. My father relaxed slightly, like that was all he had been waiting for.

“Good,” he said. “That’s how it should be.”

I didn’t say anything else because there was nothing left to say. I turned and walked past them, heading for the stairs without waiting for permission.

No one stopped me.

I climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last, until I reached my room. It looked exactly the same. Nothing had changed.

I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and leaned against it for a second before moving further in.

Then I sat down on the edge of my bed.

And just… stared.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t move.

I just sat there, letting everything settle in a way I didn’t have the energy to fight. Non of this would have happened if my mother is here with me, if Keisha mother hadn't showed up fourteen years ago.

After a while, my phone buzzed beside me. The sound felt louder than it should have in the quiet room.

I glanced at the screen.

Unknown number.

For a second, I considered ignoring it. Then I picked it up and opened the message.

Are you alright?

I stared at the words longer than I meant to, something about them sitting strangely in my chest.

It wasn’t just the message. It was the timing. My fingers hovered over the screen before I typed back.

Who is this?

I waited.

A few seconds passed. Then a minute.

Nothing.

I stared at the screen, my mind already moving ahead of me, trying to make sense of it. There was only one person I could think of, but that didn’t make sense.

He had made things clear.

So why would he—

I stopped myself, shaking my head slightly.

No.

It didn’t have to be him.

And yet…

I looked down at the message again, the three simple words sitting there like they meant more than they should have.

Are you alright?

I exhaled slowly and set the phone down beside me, but my thoughts didn’t settle.

If it wasn’t him, then who?

And if it was—

Why now?