POV Ella
I guess Keith thinks he can fix every problem by throwing money at it. How very Ingram of him.
I guess that's the only way he expected to make up for my hurt. He probably never imagined he'd be asked to give up other romantic relationships.
My father's words echo in my ears: "Be reasonable Ella. I don't understand why you are always harping on about hurts and slights. Don't blow everything out of proportion."
Doubt seizes me. For a second, I wonder— Am I being unreasonable?
The weight of everything that has happened crashes down on me and my knees buckle.
I have dreamed of meeting this man for years.
He caught me stealing cake for my own birthday when I was thirteen. He could've made my life miserable, but he chose to treat me with grace. I can't stop the memory from taking over.
"What are you doing?"
I stop dead before slowly turning around to face my doom. I blink. My jaw drops.
So handsome. Leaning against the door, hand on Toto like he owns the whole world. In a black suit, with a cut and flair that even my inexperienced eyes can tell must be really expensive, and a silver tie to match his silver eyes, he waits expectantly for me to close my gaping mouth.
My heart thumps hard as I try to formulate a response. I rub my ribs as I glance at Toto, his accusing eyes clearly saying: I told you so!
"I was just putting aside a few pieces for safe—keeping, in case the party runs out!"
I wince. Even to my ears that sounds weak. The boy raises an eyebrow at me. I stare pleadingly at Toto… Maybe Toto can come up with a better excuse, but Toto remains steadfast in his refusal to say anything, the traitor!
His eyes narrow. "Are you trying to insult me, cake thief? Obviously you're lying."
Shocked, I sputter, "Of course not! I'm not a thief! This is my…" but I pause, as something Mom frequently screams echoes in my ears: This is not your house, Ella!
I hesitate, before settling on a lesser truth. "…We were just hungry! Surely you can spare a couple of cake pieces!"
"Easy there, tiger! Why didn't you just say so?"
I stare at him, unsure of his meaning. Would it really matter if I said I was hungry? It never does when I tell Mom…
He looks at me funny, like he's wondering why I'd sneak around for food when there's a veritable mountain right in front of us. His expression clears.
"No one will miss a couple of cake slices, you know."
I turn with my cake pieces before he decides his generosity doesn't extend to allowing me cake.
"Wait! Here! Take some sandwiches to go with the cake." He stacks a couple of napkins with at least three sandwiches, a chicken leg, and some macarons. "They're really tasty… the host sure knows his food."
I stare at him open-mouthed again as he grabs my cake parcel, tucks Toto under his arm, looks around, then whispers, "Let's get you out of here…"
I remember my mother's voice right outside that door. One word from him and I would've been punished for weeks. But he didn't say a word. He protected me—from my parents, from Eliana, even from myself.
It was more than that though. He shared the meal with me, joked with me, instead of abandoning me to my devices like everyone else. He stayed; he cared. He SAW me. Now though…
We finish our tiny meal. He gasps in mock shock. "Well, well, Toto sure was hungry! Even the crumbs have disappeared! Are you sure he's a plushie and not a black hole?"
I fling a rose I find at him, and he pretends to be injured and faints onto the chair. I chuckle as I start disposing of the evidence of our raid in the corner dustbin behind the vines, murmuring, "Hilarious," as I go. He grins as he eases into the chair once again.
"There you are! Are you hiding on the terrace to escape your mother?!"
My eyes widen in horror as I sneak a look around to find Eliana standing with her back to me, facing the boy whose name I still don't know.
His grin turns a little wicked as he glances my way. I'm sure he's going to expose me.
I frantically shake my head, widening my eyes pleadingly, desperately hoping he doesn't reveal my presence.
He frowns a little, then nods subtly. "Well, I'll be… Aren't you observant?"
Eliana replies in her sweet, shy voice, "Not really. I think her aura is so fierce even my mom is scared of her, and my mom is scared of nothing."
He laughs. "I got bored waiting for you, so I stepped out to this terrace. The sky looks pretty."
They step toward the railing, and I can see Eliana's profile now. She is still a child, but looks so mature… Beautiful. They look lovely together. I feel an ache blossom in my chest. I don't know what's wrong, but maybe I should get Nanny to check it out.
They chat in low voices I can't hear before turning to leave. The boy turns her around and lets her lead him out.
As I watch them leave, I suddenly feel bereft, as if I am losing something precious and yet helpless to stop it.
I wait in my corner, forgotten, when suddenly, right before he steps out, he turns. He flings Toto at me, pulls a finger to his lips as if to say shh, winks, and leaves like it was nothing.
This was the boy whose kindness kept me going on the nights I wanted to give up.
The hope of meeting this man held me together more days than I can count.
How could that kind, generous, sweet boy have evolved into this bitter, ruthless, disrespectful money-obsessed man who seemed determined to hate my guts, but not even look at the behaviour of those around him with clear discerning eyes?
It took his aunt physically assaulting me for him to even realise that things could be difficult for me. I try to get him to recognise his own blindness, but he shuts me down instantly.
"Both these women have proven their character to me. You should watch what you say about them." The coldness in his voice stops me cold. Disappointment and hurt sweep through me, like a tidal wave determined to drown me.
I turn away before he can see my face crumple. My shoulders droop and the shaking in my hands resumes. I stand outside my door, hand on the handle as I struggle to open the door.
Of course he'd defend them. Kat, who treated me like a servant. Eliana, who poisoned him against me. These are the women he values. The ones who've "proven their character."
And what have I proven?
That I'm easy to ignore. Easy to hurt. Easy to dismiss.
Don't cry. Don't give him that satisfaction.
I stand there for a second, struggling with the weight of my emotions again. I can't walk away without saying something though; one last desperate attempt to reach him.
"Think I'm wrong in my assessment? Alright then. I dare you. Prove me wrong."
The words slip out, raw and unfiltered. They carry a strength I don't feel. I don't take them back.
I slip inside and close the door before he can see the tears drop.
I don't make it to the bed.
I sink down right there, back against the door, and pull my knees to my chest.
The boy who saved me seven years ago wouldn't recognize the man on the other side of this door. Or maybe he would. Maybe I'm the one who built him into something he never was—a hero who existed only in a desperate child's imagination.
I hug my knees tighter.
I asked for fidelity because I didn't have the courage to ask for what I really wanted.
I want him to see me.
I want him to remember.
I want to matter to him the way he's mattered to me for seven years.
But you can't make someone care.
I learned that lesson at five years old.
Some things never change.
I close my eyes and let the tears soak into my pajamas, too tired to even make it to bed.