FAST and FORBIDDEN

"Mom, do you really love him? I mean, he has two sons... what if they don't accept you? What if they hate you? Did you even ask them how they feel about you and Dad... I mean, you and him? What if they're just pretending to be okay with it, but really they're not? And what about us? How will this affect our family? Will we have to move? Will they come live with us? Mom, I don't know if I'm comfortable with this... can't you just slow down and think about it some more?" Mom sighed, her expression a mix of frustration and patience. "Ava, slow down. One question at a time, please. I know you're worried, but I've thought this through. I really care about him, and I think we could be happy together. His sons seem like great kids, and we've already talked about how we'll make this work. Can we please just take a deep breath and discuss this calmly?" She paused, taking a deep breath of her own. "And, Ava, I'm not getting any younger. I'd like to think I know what I'm doing." "But, Mom... Fine. Marry him if that's what you want. But don't expect me to start calling him 'Dad' or treat him like he's my real father. I'll tolerate him because he's going to be your husband, but that's it." Mom's expression softened, and she reached out to gently brush a strand of hair behind Ava's ear. "I understand that this is a lot to take in, sweetie. And I'm not expecting you to accept him as your dad right away. But I do hope that you'll give him a chance. He's a good man, and he makes me happy. Can you at least try to get to know him a little better?" She paused, looking at Ava with pleading eyes. "For me?" "Fine, I'll try to get to know him, but don't expect me to be all smiles and friendly. I'll be watching him, and if I see even a hint of something I don't like, I'll let you know. But honestly, Mom, I don't see why I have to accept him just because you're dating him. Can't I just have my own opinions and feelings about this?" Mom nodded, a small smile on her face. "That's all I can ask for, sweetie. Just keep an open mind and don't judge him too harshly, okay? And if you do feel something's wrong, you can always talk to me about it. I promise to listen." She paused, her expression turning serious. "But, Ava, I do need to ask you one thing: please don't make this harder for me than it needs to be. I know you're worried, but I'm happy, and I'd like to think that you want me to be happy." I nodded silently, my eyes welling up with tears as I helped Mom pack our belongings. I didn't want to leave this house, where every room, every corner, held memories of my childhood. Memories of my dad, who had passed away, leaving a gaping hole in my heart. This house was all I had left of him, and the thought of leaving it behind was unbearable. I remembered being a little princess, twirling around the living room, my dad's warm smile and gentle laughter etched in my mind forever. How could I just walk away from all that? I felt a knot in my stomach as I gazed at Mom, a mix of love and resentment swirling inside me. How could she say she loved Dad, yet move on so quickly? It felt like a betrayal, like she was erasing the memories we'd made together. I couldn't understand why she was so willing to start anew, to leave the past behind. Was that really what love meant? Because if it was, I wanted no part of it. I didn't want to love someone only to have them replace me, erase me, so easily. The thought stung, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. The sound of a car horn pierced the air, signaling our departure. I took one last look at the house, the only home I'd ever known, and felt a pang in my chest. I pecked a gentle kiss on the doorframe, a silent goodbye to the memories and laughter that lingered within those walls. Mom and I exchanged a brief, somber glance before we stepped out into the bright sunlight. The long, three-hour drive stretched out before us like an endless expanse of uncertainty. I settled into the passenger seat, my gaze drifting out the window as the familiar scenery gave way to unfamiliar roads and landscapes. The silence between Mom and me was palpable, a heavy, unspoken understanding that our lives were about to change forever. As we finally arrived at our destination, I was taken aback by the grand villa that loomed before us. I couldn't believe Mom hadn't mentioned that her new partner was filthy rich. A man in his 50s, with a youthful air that made him look more like he was in his 40s, emerged from the villa and swept Mom into a warm hug. I watched the scene unfold with a mix of disgust and indifference. I didn't care if he felt hurt or if Mom felt sad because of my cold demeanor. My mind was racing with questions. Did Mom really love this man, or was it just about the money? No, I pushed the thought away, refusing to believe it. But what if... what if it was true? The possibility sent a wave of anger and betrayal coursing through my veins. The butler led me to my new room, a spacious sanctuary that felt more like a prison cell. I stood frozen, my gaze drifting around the unfamiliar surroundings as the butler deposited my luggage. My eyes landed on the small, framed photo of Dad that I'd secretly tucked away in my bag, a cherished memento from our old life. I placed it on the bedside table, my fingers tracing the familiar contours of his smile. The room seemed to fade away as I sank into a chair, my eyes locking onto the photo. Tears pricked at the corners, and my vision blurred as I became lost in thought. Memories of Dad flooded my mind, and I felt like I was drowning in a sea of grief. The silence was oppressive, punctuated only by the sound of my own ragged breathing. Just as I was lost in thought, Mom burst into my room, a look of excitement on her face. "Isn't this place amazing? Your stepdad has incredible taste, don't you think?" She gestured grandly, as if showcasing the room's opulent decor for the first time. I remained seated, my eyes fixed on Dad's photo, my expression a mask of indifference. Mom's enthusiasm only seemed to highlight the ache within me, and I couldn't help but feel like she was trying to erase our past, our memories, and replace them with this...this lavish new life. "Shut up, Mom," I muttered, my voice flat and detached, my gaze still fixed on Dad's photo, refusing to acknowledge her presence. Mom's smile faltered, and she took a step back, her eyes widening in surprise. "Ava, what's wrong? I thought you'd be happy here," she said, her voice tinged with hurt. I felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly overshadowed by my anger and frustration. I didn't want to hear her excuses or justifications. I just wanted her to leave me alone. "Just leave me alone, Mom," I repeated, my voice firm but shaking with emotion. Mom's face fell, but instead of tears, a flash of anger sparked in her eyes. She took a step closer, her voice low and even. "What's wrong with you, Ava? I thought we were starting fresh here, leaving the past behind. But you're still stuck in your anger and resentment. What is it that you want from me?" she demanded, her words dripping with frustration. I felt a surge of defiance, my jaw clenched in determination. "I want you to be honest with me," I spat, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why did you really marry him? Is it just about the money?" I paused, my eyes locking onto hers. "And tell me, Mom... did you ever really love Dad?" The question hung in the air, heavy with emotion, as I searched her face for answers. Mom's expression faltered, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. She took a deep breath before answering, her voice measured. "Ava, I...I loved your father in my own way. We had our ups and downs, like any couple, but I cared for him deeply." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "As for why I married...your stepdad, it's not just about the money. He loves me, Ava, and he's kind to me. He's given me a sense of security and stability that I hadn't had in a long time." Her eyes locked onto mine, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone. "And I deserve to be happy, Ava. I deserve to move on with my life." "Yeah, just move on and forget about my dad. Why do you still care about me? Forget me too, please. But answer me this: what about my dad? He loved you, and because of you, he's gone." Mom's face crumpled, and she took a step back, as if I'd physically struck her. "Ava, how can you say that?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I loved your father, in my own way. And I'm sorry, so sorry, that he's gone." She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "You don't understand, Ava. Life is complicated. People make mistakes. And I'm not perfect, I've never claimed to be." She took a deep breath, her eyes pleading with me to understand. "But I do love you, Ava. And I'm sorry if I've hurt you. I never meant to." I turned my back on her, my voice cold and detached. "Just shut up, Mom. Leave me alone." I refused to look at her, refused to acknowledge her pain. I just wanted her to leave me alone, to let me wallow in my own grief and anger. Finally, I heard the door close softly behind her, and I was left alone in the silence, my heart heavy with emotion. CONTINUE....