For an instant, it felt like eighteen years earlier, when we still meant the world to one another.
Back then, Mom passed away. Dad married his mistress.
I was ordered to kneel and call that woman “Mom,” then hid in the attic, crying my heart out.
Aster held me exactly like this, wiping my cheeks, letting me drink water.
She hugged me, saying things would be fine, that she was here.
At thirteen, she knelt before her father to seek protection for me, using cooperation to prove I was worth keeping.
How could I not love such a girl?
That short comfort was shattered when she let out a long breath, “Finley, I won’t walk away. That really was only an accident.”
I gripped her neck tightly, voice broken apart, “Aster, you understand I can't accept this. I refuse to suffer like Mom once did.”
“Aster, send them overseas, alright? We can support them for our entire lives.”
“Why didn’t you end it back then? Why didn’t you tell me when you wanted children?”
After a long pause, Aster finally spoke flatly, “The Olson-Lawson clean-energy collaboration cuts the ribbon tomorrow. Get ready. Don’t be absent, it will raise suspicion.”
Seeing her cold back move away, my heart finally dropped to the lowest point.
…