Fathers Suspicion
1611 Words
Elara stood beside the big couch in the living room, her eyes fixed on her father as he rested against the pillows placed behind his back.
The house was quiet in a fragile way the kind of silence that carried too many unspoken prayers inside it.
Sunlight filtered weakly through the curtain, brushing gently against the side of his face.
He looked pale and looked even thinner. And even though he was finally home, alive and breathing, Elara’s heart still refused to settle.
“Are you sure you are okay, Papa?” she asked softly, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound calm. “Are you sure you are really fine now?”
Her father turned slightly toward her. The movement was slow, careful, as if even the smallest shift of his body still carried pain beneath it. A faint smile stretched across his lips It was weak, but it was real.
“I am fine, Elara,” he said gently. “You worry too much.”
She shook her head immediately, stepping closer to him. Her eyes dropped to the bandages peeking from beneath his loose shirt.
“But what about the wounds?” she asked anxiously. “Are you still feeling pain there?”
Her father lifted one hand slowly and placed it over his side where the bandage rested. He pressed lightly at first, then a little firmer, testing himself.
When Elara’s face tightened in fear, he suddenly winked at her.
“No more pain,” he said with a playful spark in his tired eyes. “See? Your father is strong.”
Elara let out a shaky breath she did not realize she had been holding as a small, fragile smile slipped onto her lips.
“You scared me,” she whispered.”
And before he could reply, soft footsteps approached from the hallway.
Elara’s mother entered the living room quietly, holding a cup of water with both hands.
She moved carefully, as though her own body was still fragile from exhaustion.
The hospital had only released her a day ago, yet worry had already dragged her back into weakness again.
She extended the cup toward her husband.
“Here,” she said softly. “Drink some water.”
He accepted it with a gentle nod.
“Thank you, dear,” he replied, his voice warm.
Her mother smiled in response, but the smile wavered as it did not reach her eyes. The weakness in her face was impossible to miss. Her shoulders were still slumped with fatigue. The lines around her lips were deeper than before. Illness had not fully let go of her yet.
And Elara noticed it.
Her father took a few slow sips from the cup.
Halfway through, his chest suddenly tightened.
A rough cough broke through him.
One cough turned into another. His hand moved quickly to his mouth as his body trembled slightly with the effort.
“Papa,” Elara said in alarm, stepping forward.
But he had already lifted one hand to stop her from coming closer.
“I am fine,” he assured her, though the cough lingered in his chest.
Then his gaze shifted toward her with sudden seriousness.
“Elara,” he called in a firmer voice. “There is something I need to ask you.”he said,
and at that moment, she froze when she heard the shift in his tone.
“There is something I need to ask you,” he repeated, more slowly this time.
Her fingers hesitated over the cloth in the bag she was holding.
And her heart skipped once, sharp and uneasy.
But slowly, she straightened up from where she was bending over.
“Yes, Papa,” she said carefully. “What is it? What do you want to ask me?”
Her father studied her for a long moment. His eyes searched her face in a way that made her chest tighten
. There was no anger in his expression. There was only worry and suspicion. And something like quiet fear.
“Tell me,” he said slowly. “How were you able to convince them to release me?”
Elara blinked.
“I… I do not understand,” she said cautiously. “Convince who, Papa?”
His jaw tightened.
“Do not play with me, Elara,” he said firmly. “I remember everything clearly. I remember seeing you at that place.
Her breath caught slightly.
“I remember you standing there and walking out with that bastard's son,” he continued. “And then, two days later, I was suddenly released and you expect me not to ask questions?”
Immediately her father's words left him Elara felt the room grow smaller around her.
“Tell me what you did,” he pressed. “Tell me exactly what you did, Elara.”
She swallowed and looked up at his eyes and she noticed the way his eyes had darkened with anger.
“Because I clearly remember,” he added slowly, “seeing you walk away with Damien from that room where I was held. I saw the two of you leave together.”
Her heart thudded loudly against her ribs.
“So where exactly did both of you go?” he asked quietly. “Elara… I hope it is not what I am thinking.”
The room fell into heavy silence.
Her mother, who had been standing quietly beside the couch, slowly turned her gaze toward Elara. Confusion and fear flickered across her tired face.
Elara stood frozen.
Her throat tightened. Her chest rose and fell unevenly. She forced herself to inhale slowly. Once. Twice. She needed to breathe. She needed to breathe so that her nervousness would not betray her.
“Um… Papa,” she began, her voice trembling despite her effort. “I… I do not understand what you are saying.”
The words came out weak. Slow. Stammered.
He did not look convinced.
“You do understand,” he said quietly. “You always understand.”
Her hands clenched tightly at her sides.
“You were with Damien that night,” he continued. “And two days later, I was home. So tell me, Elara… what did you give them? What did you promise them?”
Her eyes shimmered.
“I did not give anyone anything,” she replied quickly, shaking her head. “I did not promise anything. I only went there to beg them to let you go. That is all I did. I only begged.”
“Begging alone does not move people like that,” he said firmly. “Especially not people like him.”
Her breaths became shallow.
“Elara,” he added softly now, “look at me. Look at your father.”
Slowly, trembling, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Tell me the truth,” he whispered. “Because whatever you did for me… I need to know.”
Tears burned at the edges of her eyes. Memories crashed into her mind. Damien’s cold voice. His cruel words. His impossible proposition.
She shook her head again, more forcefully now.
“There is nothing to tell,” she said. “Nothing happened.”
Her voice cracked at the last word.
Her father stared at her deeply as though trying to peel back the layers of her denial.
Her mother stepped closer.
“Elara,” she said gently, “your father is only worried. If something is troubling you, you can tell us.”
Elara pressed her lips tightly together. Her chest trembled.
“I just hope you did not sleep because if you did I swear to God I am going to Ki*l you and those bastards,” her father suddenly said bluntly, watching her reaction carefully. “
Her eyes widened in shock.
“What?” she gasped.
“Is that what happened?” he asked quietly. “Did you give yourself to him so that I could be free?”
Her entire body stiffened.
“No!” she cried out immediately. “No, Papa! I would never—”
Her voice broke. Tears spilled over.
“I did not do that,” she whispered helplessly. “I swear. I did not.”
Silence wrapped around the room again.
Her father studied her wet face. Her shaking shoulders. Her trembling hands. Slowly, his expression softened.
“Then tell me what you did,” he said patiently.
Elara opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her thoughts twisted painfully inside her head.
“I only… I only talked to him,” she said at last. “That is all. I talked to him. I begged him. I told him to let you go. I cried in front of him. I humiliated myself in front of him. That is everything I did.”
Her father did not look fully convinced, but his tone softened.
“He is not the type to be moved by tears,” he said.
“I know,” she whispered. “But I had nothing else to offer.”
Her mother’s eyes filled with worry.
“And he just let your father go?” she asked softly. “Just like that?”
Elara hesitated.
“Yes after I knelt at his feet to beg him he said…” she said slowly, “…he said he would take care of it.”
Her father exhaled deeply.
“There is more,” he said gently.
Elara’s lips trembled.
“There is nothing more,” she whispered.
But deep inside her, the weight of Damien’s five rules pressed against her chest like a silent threat.
And she knew…
That the truth was only being postponed.
Not erased.
- Writer
