MEETING HIM

Chapter seventeen: Shattered Facades

Natacha’s POV

The air in Natacha’s room was thick with tension as she stared out of the window, her mind racing. She had just returned from her meeting with Alex, and every thought felt tangled in a whirlwind of emotions.

It hadn’t been what she expected—or maybe, it was exactly what she had feared. Alex had played his usual mind games, drawing her back into the world they had once shared. She could still hear his voice in her head, the way he had said her name, soft yet commanding. It was as if she had never left, as if nothing had changed between them.

But everything had changed. Everything had to change. She had moved on, hadn’t she? She had distanced herself from him because she had realized that their relationship was toxic, that she deserved better. That she deserved freedom, independence, a life that wasn’t controlled by him.

So why did it still hurt? Why did she feel like she was caught between two worlds, one foot still tethered to Alex, the other trying to push forward into something else? Something better. Something that wasn’t him.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence. It was a message from Eric.

Eric: “Hey, are you okay? I haven’t heard from you in a while…”

She stared at the screen, her chest tightening. She had been avoiding him, partly because she didn’t know how to explain what was happening to her, partly because she didn’t want to drag him into the chaos that was her life. How could she explain to him that she felt torn, that she was struggling to understand her own feelings? How could she tell him that her heart still beat faster every time Alex’s name crossed her mind?

She typed a quick response, trying to sound casual. “I’m fine. Just busy with school. I’ll call you later.”

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. But even as she put the phone down, the weight of her choices pressed down on her. She didn’t want to hurt Eric, but was she really being fair to him? Was she fair to herself? She couldn’t keep living in this limbo. She needed to figure things out, for her own sake.

But then, there was her father.

Natacha’s thoughts drifted back to their argument earlier that day. The moment when she had tried to sneak out, to escape her emotions, and he had caught her. It had been a rare, intense exchange between them—one that left her feeling raw and exposed. Her father, always the stoic figure in her life, had been uncharacteristically furious. He had accused her of being reckless, of not caring about the family, of throwing away everything they had built together.

She had lashed back, bitter words spilling out as she accused him of being emotionally distant, of never really being there for her. It had been the kind of conversation that never seemed to end well, the kind where you said things you didn’t mean and couldn’t take back.

Her mind wandered again to Mr. Delacroix. There was a strange, unfamiliar feeling that had settled in her chest since she had started noticing his closeness to her father. She couldn’t quite put a name to it, but it was nagging at her, growing more insistent with each passing day.

Something was off.

She couldn’t shake the sense that there was more to their relationship than she had initially thought. Her father’s emotional withdrawal had made more sense when she considered it in light of the possibility that his connection with Mr. Delacroix was more than professional. There had been moments—small ones—that had revealed just how much Mr. Delacroix seemed to care for her father. Moments that made her uneasy.

Natacha sat up straighter, her mind turning. She had to know the truth. She had to confront her father about this, but she didn’t know if she was ready. Could she really have that conversation with him? Was she prepared for the fallout that might come with it?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a knock on her door.

“Natacha?” Her father’s voice. She tensed.

“Come in,” she called out, her voice sounding steadier than she felt.

The door creaked open, and her father stepped inside, his expression guarded. He was wearing his usual stiff demeanor, the one that said he was always in control. But there was something else there, too. Something that hinted at vulnerability, a crack in the armor he always wore.

“What’s going on with you?” he asked, his voice quiet but firm. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Is something bothering you?”

Natacha’s heart skipped a beat. He knew. He had sensed her withdrawal, her discontent. She had tried so hard to keep things normal between them, but now, she had been caught. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her, like he was trying to peel back the layers of her carefully constructed walls.

She didn’t know how to answer him. She couldn’t bring herself to say the truth—couldn’t tell him that her emotions were a chaotic storm, caught between Alex, Eric, and her own insecurities.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, crossing her arms defensively. “I’ve just had a lot on my plate. School, you know.”

Her father didn’t seem convinced. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re lying.”

Natacha exhaled sharply, the tension in her body palpable. She was tired of pretending, tired of hiding her feelings. But at the same time, she was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if she opened up too much.

“Look, I’m just trying to figure some stuff out,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not a big deal.”

Her father’s brow furrowed. “Is this about what happened with Mr. Delacroix? You don’t need to worry about that, Natacha. He’s just a colleague. Nothing more.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut. He was lying, or at least, he wasn’t telling her the whole truth. She could see it in his eyes, the hesitation, the way his voice wavered for just a second.

“Why do you keep lying to me?” she whispered, her voice cracking as the weight of the moment crushed down on her. “Why won’t you just tell me the truth? I deserve that, don’t I?”

Her father’s face softened, and for the first time in a long while, he looked vulnerable. His shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t want you to think differently of me.”

Natacha’s breath caught in her throat. “What are you talking about?”

Her father hesitated, his eyes darting to the side as if trying to gather the courage to speak. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked at her, his expression serious.

“I’m not just working with Mr. Delacroix, Natacha,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re... more than that.”

The words hung in the air, suspended in time. Natacha felt the ground shift beneath her, her world spinning out of control. “You and Mr. Delacroix…?” she trailed off, her voice barely audible.

Her father nodded, his gaze not leaving hers. “Yes. We’ve been in a relationship for a long time now. I didn’t know how to tell you. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.”

The shock hit her like a tidal wave. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the flood of emotions that suddenly overwhelmed her. Her father, the man who had always been so emotionally distant, had been living a life she had never known. A part of her wanted to scream at him, to accuse him of betraying her. But another part of her—the part that had always longed for him to be more open with her—felt a strange sense of relief.

Her father wasn’t the man she had always thought he was. But in a way, that might not be such a bad thing.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered, her heart heavy with the weight of this new reality.

“I know,” her father said quietly. “I didn’t expect you to understand right away. But I hope, in time, you will. This doesn’t change anything between us, Natacha. I’m still your father.”

Her mind was reeling as she tried to make sense of it all. The revelation about her father’s relationship with Mr. Delacroix had been a shock, but it was also a pivotal moment for Natacha. She felt the walls around her heart begin to crumble, as if the truth had set her free, even though she wasn’t entirely sure what it meant for her future.

“Thank you for telling me,” she finally said, her voice barely a whisper. “I need some time to think.”

Her father nodded, his face lined with worry. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

As he left the room, Natacha sat in silence, her heart torn between the shocking revelation and the turmoil that still raged inside her. She had so many questions, so many things to figure out. But for now, all she could do was sit