BLOODlines

8: Mother's Warning

The morning after Frank’s visit, Cherish awoke with his name still on her lips.

Her strength was returning, and so was her determination. But even before she could voice her thoughts, Evelyn was already in the room, hovering like a storm cloud.

Her mother’s eyes were sharp, her voice clipped. “Cherish, listen carefully. That boy—the one you met yesterday—forget him. He’s not for you.”

Cherish blinked at her. “Why? He saved my life.”

“That doesn’t make him your destiny,” Evelyn snapped. She took a seat at the edge of the bed, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “You don’t know where he comes from, what blood runs in his veins. He is not the man you were raised for.”

Cherish frowned. “Raised for? Mama, is that what this is to you? Some parade of suitors for me to choose from, while you pull the strings?”

Evelyn’s jaw clenched. “You are my daughter. And you will marry into a family that secures our name, our place, our legacy. Not some… boy who happens to bleed the right type.”

Cherish’s chest tightened. “But he’s the reason I’m alive. Doesn’t that mean something?”

Her mother leaned closer, her eyes fierce. “It means you owe him gratitude. Nothing more. Don’t confuse survival with love.”

Later that day, Cherish sat by the window, staring at the street below. Her heart battled between loyalty to her mother and the pull she felt toward Frank. Gratitude, Evelyn called it. But Cherish knew better. She had seen something in his eyes when he spoke his name—something steady, something real.

And it terrified her how deeply it had already taken root.

That evening, Evelyn cornered the doctor in the hallway. Her voice was low, sharp with command. “Do not let that boy near my daughter again. She needs rest, not distractions.”

The doctor studied her, his expression calm but unreadable. “Sometimes, madam, the heart heals faster than the body. You cannot cage her forever.”

Her lips tightened. “Watch me.”

Far across town, Frank sat outside his uncle’s house, his hands clasped tightly, his thoughts restless. He had tried to walk away, but her face haunted him.

Uncle Ray, noticing the torment in his nephew’s eyes, lowered himself onto the step beside him. “You feel it, don’t you? The pull.”

Frank’s voice was low. “I shouldn’t. She’s from another world, Uncle. She doesn’t belong to me.”

Ray sighed. “Maybe not. But fate doesn’t ask permission. And if she’s searching for you… she’ll find you.”

Frank’s head snapped up. “Searching?”

Ray hesitated, then nodded. “That girl won’t rest until she knows why you risked yourself for her. You saw it in her eyes. And when she does find you, Frank, you’ll have a choice to make: run… or stay.”

Back in her hospital bed, Cherish whispered to herself, defying her mother’s warning:

“I have to see him again. I have to know who he really is.”