Chapter 15
1413 Words
Timothy’s POV ♤
She slammed the door in my face like it didn’t mean anything.
Like the last three years never happened.
Like I was just another mistake she was done pretending to love.
And I didn’t beg this time. Not again. I just turned around and walked away, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets, trying to ignore the way my throat burned. We’d broken up before — four times, to be exact — but this one felt real. Final. She didn’t even cry. Maybe that’s what hurt the most.
The streets were quiet, and by the time I got home, the sun had already started to dip. I pushed through the front door, wanting nothing more than to crash and forget everything.
But the house wasn’t empty.
The smell of eggs and toast hit first — Mum was in the kitchen, humming softly to herself. I sighed. Just my luck.
“Oh, I’m glad you’re here, sweetie,” Mum said immediately when she saw me, kissing my cheek before I could even drop my bag. Her hair was tied up messily, apron still dusted with flour. “Dinner’s almost ready.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, trying to brush past her. “I’m just gonna crash. I’m really tired.”
“Not so fast.” Her hand caught my arm. “I have something to discuss with you and your father.”
Of course she did.
I turned toward the living room just as Dad walked in, hair a mess, tie loose like he’d just gotten off a long shift.
“Rough day?” Mum asked, reading my thoughts out loud.
He only grunted, poured himself a glass of water, and nodded at me. “Hey, son.”
“Hey, Dad,” I said, leaning against a stool. “Apparently, Mum wants to discuss something.”
Dad raised a brow, looking between us. “Alright, Emma. What’s going on?”
That’s when she said it.
She started talking about this girl she met on the roadside — how she looked lost, scared, and alone. How she couldn’t just drive past her. And before either of us could interrupt, she dropped the bomb:
“She’s staying here. For a while.”
I blinked. “What?!” Dad and I said simultaneously.
“Shh, lower your voices — she’s still sleeping,” Mum scolded softly, making me scoff.
“Emma, did you even think this through?” Dad asked in a low but firm voice. “You don’t even know her.”
“Yeah, Mum, come on,” I chimed in, already irritated and confused about what was going on.
“She’s just a child, Jacob,” Mum said, calm but firm. “She needs somewhere safe to stay until I can find a proper home for her.”
Dad sighed, rubbing his forehead. “You don’t even know her, Em.”
“She’s not dangerous,” Mum snapped, shooting me a look that silenced me immediately — as if she knew I was about to argue. “She’s been through a lot, Timothy. The least we can do is give her shelter.”
Dad sighed again but finally nodded, giving up the argument. “Fine. But be careful.”
I wasn’t as quick to accept it. I didn’t like strangers in our house. I didn’t like not knowing what they wanted. I’d seen enough people pretend to be something they weren’t — including the girl who’d just broken up with me two hours ago.
So I just said, “Whatever,” and left it at that.
But deep down, I knew it wasn’t over.
---
The next morning came faster than I wanted.
I was up before anyone else, standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee, when Mum came down looking far too cheerful for someone who’d brought home a mystery guest.
“Morning, love,” she said brightly, tying her apron. “Let’s make breakfast. I’ve gone to wake her up.”
“Her?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean the stranger?”
“Her name’s Amber,” Mum said flatly. “And she’s not a stranger anymore.”
I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. Not yet.
Dad came in soon after, still half-asleep, and the three of us made breakfast together — or rather, Mum made breakfast while we stood around pretending to help.
“Be polite when she comes down,” Mum said over her shoulder. “She’s nervous.”
“Polite,” I echoed under my breath. “Sure.”
When she finally came downstairs, I almost didn’t recognize her.
She looked… clean. Quiet. The kind of quiet that didn’t ask for attention but somehow made you notice anyway. Her hair fell softly over her shoulders, and her eyes darted around the room like a trapped bird looking for escape.
Mum lit up immediately. “There you are, sweetheart. Come sit.”
She did. Carefully. Like she was afraid to break something.
I barely looked up from my plate until she spoke. “Good morning. My name is Amber White.”
“Nice to meet you, Amber,” Dad replied politely.
“Yeah, nice to meet you… Ally,” I muttered, smirking.
Mum’s tone turned sharp. “It’s Amber, young man. Not Ally.”
I shrugged.
“So, you said you were lost, Amber?” Dad asked after a while, probably trying to break the awkward silence.
“Yes, sir,” she answered softly.
“And your parents are dead?” I asked coldly.
She froze for half a second, then nodded slowly, her fingers tightening around her fork.
“Timothy,” Mum’s voice snapped immediately. “That’s not nice. Apologize at once.”
“I didn’t ask anything bad,” I muttered. “It was just a question.”
“It was too straightforward and hurtful,” she said firmly, turning to Amber. “Right, dear?”
Amber shook her head quickly. “It’s fine, Emma. It doesn’t matter.”
She looked down, and something twisted in my chest. Great. Now I felt bad.
Mum narrowed her eyes at me, but I just shrugged again, pretending not to care.
Truth was, I’d meant to irritate her — to test her. To see if she’d c***k, or if she was just another fake smile pretending to be kind. But she didn’t.
And that threw me off more than I wanted to admit.
Breakfast dragged on, silent and stiff. When it ended, Amber offered to help Mum with the dishes — of course she did. The perfect little angel.
I almost made a comment, but stopped myself.
Mum smiled, touched, and led her into the kitchen. I stayed behind, chewing on guilt I didn’t want to acknowledge.
---
Later, Mum came into the living room.
“Timothy,” she said in her calm but commanding tone, “why don’t you and Amber get to know each other better outside, by the pool, while I talk with your father?”
I groaned audibly. “But Muuuum—”
“No buts, mister.” Her voice cut clean through my protest. “Go on. And be nice.”
So I went.
And I wasn’t nice.
---
Outside, the sun hit hard, and the pool water shimmered like glass.
Amber stood beside me, quiet, fidgeting with her fingers.
“You want our money, don’t you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Her eyes widened. “What? No!”
“Then what’s your goal here?” I pressed, my voice sharper than I meant it to be. “You sure your parents are dead, or is this some kind of act?”
She froze. Her hands trembled. Something in me twisted again, but I ignored it.
She said something — her voice cracked — and when she looked up at me, tears shimmered in her eyes. Real ones.
I hesitated. Guilt crept in. But pride won.
“You’re such a liar,” I muttered. “You think your innocent act is going to work on me? Well, you’re wrong.”
I stepped closer and poked her forehead with each word. “Not. Working. On. Me.”
Then she flinched.
Not just pulled away — flinched. Like I’d hit her.
I froze. My stomach dropped.
What the hell was I doing?
But instead of apologizing, I turned and walked away.
“Stay away from my mum,” I muttered, my voice breaking somewhere in the middle.
- Writer
