0009
1269 Words
The moment Amelia stepped off the stage, the over ten-centimeter heels made even walking unbearable, let alone running. She immediately slipped off her shoes, darting barefoot toward the backstage.
It was truly him. How could he be here? So she hadn't been mistaken. If she had known he would appear, she would never have agreed to come, and would have avoided him at all costs.
As she ran, Amelia's eyes grew moist. She hadn't anticipated seeing him again.
This time, what did he intend to take from her?
Olivia was startled when Amelia returned in disarray.
"What happened? Why aren't you wearing shoes, and why are you crying so much?"
The other models had already left, and now the vast backstage held only Amelia, her child, and Olivia.
"Olivia, please... please help me..."
"Slow down, tell me what's going on." It was rare to see Amelia so unraveled, and Olivia sensed the gravity of the situation.
At that moment, a girl wearing an outfit identical to Amelia's hurried in, bowing apologetically.
"I'm sorry! My boyfriend was waiting for me downstairs, and I only went to give him the keys. I'm really sorry."
Amelia stopped crying, looked at the girl for a moment, and replied calmly, "I don't blame you. If you can do something for me, you won't be dismissed by the agency, and you'll even receive the performance fee."
The girl nodded enthusiastically.
The backstage door was kicked open with a resounding thud, startling the girl who was changing.
Thomas entered, exuding a cold aura, his gaze swiftly scanning the room. His heart raced with the nagging fear of losing something dear — a feeling he had only known when Amelia left.
Henry followed, looking on in bewilderment. Did Thomas now have a penchant for peeking at models changing?
Thomas's icy stare seemed to freeze even the dust in the air.
"Was that you on stage just now?"
It took an eternity before Thomas found his voice. The girl had barely removed her mask when he burst in, his expression as if he could kill.
"Yes..." she replied meekly, nodding.
Thomas suddenly seized her chin, his voice sharp as he demanded again, "Was it you?"
"Yes."
Thomas's gaze lingered on her for a few moments, then, with a look of desolation, he turned to Henry.
"Let's go."
"Huh? Oh, yes!"
Thomas's actions were as inscrutable as ever. Henry glanced back at the terrified girl but could make nothing of it.
Striding swiftly to his sports car, Thomas sank into the seat as soon as he entered, pressing his hand to his temple with a look of anguish.
"Boss Thomas, are you unwell?" Henry inquired, concerned.
"...." Thomas gave no response, and Henry fell silent, waiting, aware there was business to attend to shortly.
"Investigate."
Just as Henry thought Thomas had fallen asleep, he spoke.
But what was there to investigate?
"Investigate the last girl who went onstage. It's not her."
"It was her, just now!"
What was and was not her? Henry was thoroughly puzzled; Boss Thomas had never been so illogical.
Henry agreed nonetheless. If Thomas wanted it checked, there must be a reason.
Afterward, Thomas's gaze drifted out the car window...
Amelia, I know you've returned.
...
Under Amelia's urging, Olivia practically sped the car. Amelia looked shaken, her little daughter Emily noticing her mother's odd demeanor. She nestled close to Amelia, wide-eyed, watching her intently.
Seeing this, Olivia refrained from asking questions in front of the child. She decided to save her inquiries for later, certain that it was time for Amelia to share the truth.
The entire drive passed in silence, Amelia's reddened eyes staring blankly as she held Emily close.
They arrived at Amelia's simple apartment complex, chosen years ago for its proximity to Emily's kindergarten.
When they got home, Emily had already fallen asleep in the car. Amelia cradled her gently, laying her on her small bed.
After closing the door, Amelia entered the living room, where Olivia, who had stayed behind, sat on the sofa, studying her with concern.
"Come, sit here." As Amelia appeared, Olivia beckoned her over.
Three years her senior and an only child, Olivia had long seen Amelia as a little sister. Seeing her cry like that today pained her deeply.
Amelia sat beside her, understanding what Olivia wanted to ask, and, in truth, she herself wanted to talk.
But Olivia didn't press her, waiting patiently for Amelia to begin.
"Sister Olivia, let me tell you a story." Amelia licked her dry lips and spoke in a hoarse voice.
Olivia moved closer, resting a comforting hand on Amelia's shoulder, as if to give her strength.
Amelia's lips curved into a bitter smile as she exhaled, her voice soft as she began.
"Since I can remember, I've known I was different from other children. I only had a father, no mother. He told me she went to heaven after giving birth to me. I believed him then, and would often sit by the window, speaking to the night sky, hoping she could hear me."
How naive I was.
"When I was twelve, my father remarried, and a woman with a son three years my senior moved in. Back then, I was thrilled at the thought of finally having a mother. At first, she treated me kindly-she was truly wonderful."
"At first, I disliked sharing my father's love, so I did all I could to make things difficult for her son. But later, I grew fond of him precisely because he showed such indifference to me." Amelia let out a mirthless laugh. "As a spoiled young lady, I couldn't tolerate the sudden neglect. The colder he was, the more I wanted to be near him."
"And then?" Olivia prompted gently.
"So, I decided to teach him a lesson. One stormy night, when no one else was home, he returned from school, and I refused to open the door, leaving him outside all night."
"You left him outside for an entire night?" Olivia's shock was palpable; it was hard to believe the woman before her could be so willful.
"You must think I was spoiled and unreasonable."
"He was equally stubborn. I wouldn't let him in, and he really stood in the rain the whole night.."
Amelia paused, her thoughts drifting back.
Predictably, he fell ill, burning with fever for an entire day and night. My father was furious, locking me in the small storeroom and forbidding anyone to let me
out.
Though I wasn't afraid of the dark, being alone in that warehouse filled my mind with ghost stories I had once heard.
"Father, I'm sorry!" I cried, clinging to the door, my pleas falling on deaf ears.
Finally, it was him-Thomas-who, weak and feverish, walked to the door and released the lock.
Predictably, he fell ill, burning with fever for an entire day and night. My father was furious, locking me in the small storeroom and forbidding anyone to let me out.
Though I wasn't afraid of the dark, being alone in that warehouse filled my mind with ghost stories I had once heard.
"Father, I'm sorry!" I cried, clinging to the door, my pleas falling on deaf ears.
Finally, it was him -Thomas-who, weak and feverish, walked to the door and released the lock.
"It's all your fault..." Seeing someone at last, I couldn't hold back my grievance and burst into tears.
That year, I was thirteen, he sixteen. It was the first time I called him brother.
"Amelia, tell me it's not what I think it is," Olivia murmured, swallowing hard and clutching her skirt tightly.
- Writer
