Even though I go to work, I can’t concentrate.
All I keep thinking about is those voices grating on my nerves and whispering things like:
She’s losing her mind, just like Alicia.
What makes it worse is the way Jonathan looked at me. And then he didn’t attempt to touch me during my shower today. His movements were anything but sexual with the sole purpose of helping me bathe.
Usually, his hands wander all over my body and he demands I beg him to finger me or bring me to orgasm.
Not today. He had no interest in me, even when I stood fully naked in front of him. I pretend that doesn’t slice through me and leave a wound worse than the ones covering my body.
Being the sole focus of his touch just to lose it all of a sudden is harsher than I ever thought.
After the shower, he helped me dress, then disappeared.
Just like that. No words. No orders for later per his usual.
Just…nothing.
The coldness I felt when he walked out the door was like being shoved into a freezer and locked inside.
Is that what he also did with Alicia when she started losing her mind?
Not that I am. I’m not.
Though coming all the way here to prove my theory is probably pushing it.
I went to my old building during my lunch break, where Paul insisted that there was no package and he didn’t see me on that day. Shelby, my grumpy neighbour, wasn’t there for me to hold him witness. When I asked Paul where he was, he said he was having trouble with the law and was solving it at the police station.
Then, after I left, a scary thought assaulted me. What if the attack with Sarah never happened? I mean, how would she know where I lived, even if she saw me in that charity event?
Did she see me? Was she there or did I make her up?
All those thoughts have been throwing me for a loop. I feel like I exist outside of my body, and I can’t find a way to go back in.
Except for this stupid, irrational action.
I’m standing in front of Aiden and Elsa’s house in Oxford, hand gripping my watch. Elsa sent me the address when I last saw her in an attempt to invite me to dinner. I’ve always refused because Aiden seems like he wants to chop my head off.
Today, I drove the whole way here. And although I spent almost two hours on the road, I still haven’t exactly managed to gather my thoughts.
The rain pours as if the sky is revolting against the world. The dusk has come and gone, and the early evening adds to the gloominess of the heavy downpour.
I’m soaked in seconds during the small trip from my car to the front door. My hair sticks to my temples and water forms rivulets down my face.
When I came up with this idea, my only angle was that, aside from Jonathan, Aiden knew Alicia the best. He would’ve noticed if there was something amiss with his mother.
I press the doorbell with hesitant fingers as doubts creep in, the most prominent of all being that Aiden doesn’t like me. Why would he talk about Alicia in front of me when he thinks I’m an impostor?
This was a bad idea, after all. If I leave now, they’ll probably chalk up the ringing bell to a child’s prank.
Before I can run away, the door opens. Elsa appears on the threshold wearing shorts and a sleeveless top. Her long hair is held up in a neat ponytail and her face is soft and beautiful, even without an ounce of makeup. Upon seeing me, her lips widen in a gorgeous smile.
“Aurora! What a lovely surprise.” She wraps her arms around me in a hug, uncaring about the fact that I’m soaked.
“I’m sorry for coming without notice.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re always welcome here.” She ushers me inside. “Come in. The rain got you.”
“Thank you.” I remain in the entrance so that I don’t drip all over the shiny wooden flooring.
Their house is nothing like the King mansion. It’s smaller, homier, and has elegant but personal decor, like the small house figurines and the painting of Aiden and Elsa on their wedding day. Astrid must’ve done it — it has her special, unconventional touch.
The size and the feel of the house makes me wonder if Aiden wanted to exchange the big, empty, and cold King mansion with a place that he considers home. A place where he can start anew with Elsa.
“Why are you standing there?” Elsa motions behind her. “Come inside.”
“I’m good here.” I clear my throat. “Is Aiden around?”
“Yeah, he —”
“Sweetheart?” His voice filters in from the top of the stairs. “What did I say about opening the door? I’m the only one who does it. No one gets to look at you in those tiny clothes.”
“There he is.” Elsa shakes her head and whispers, “Sorry about that.”
“You don’t need to apologise.” A small smile grazes my lips, remembering how Jonathan acted this morning in front of Ethan.
Like father, like son.
My smile falls when Aiden joins his wife and watches me with a furrowed brow. Like her, he’s wearing cotton trousers and a simple white T-shirt. His black hair is tousled, and I can’t help staring at the small mole at the edge of his right eye — the only physical feature he inherited from Alicia.
He places an arm around Elsa’s waist and pulls her to his side, almost as if he wants to protect her from me. “What are you doing here?”
She elbows him. “Is that a way to treat our guest? She came all the way from London during this rain.”
“She’s not my guest.” He continues to study me, probably waiting for an answer to his question.
“I…I want to ask you something.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
Elsa pulls away from his hold, glaring him down, even though he’s way taller than her. She then takes my hand and leads me inside and seats me on the sofa, despite my attempt to protest.
By the time she brings a fluffy towel and wraps it around my shoulders, Aiden has followed after, his hands in his pockets. His grey eyes narrow on me as if I’m a liability he needs to get rid of.
“I’ll go get you something hot to drink.” She smiles at me, then stares at Aiden. “Be nice.”
“I’m anything but nice, remember?” He gives her an undecipherable glance, and although I can’t quite read it, Elsa’s cheeks redden.
It’s fascinating how they can understand each other with a mere look.
That’s how Jonathan made me sit on his lap or lie on my stomach. Sometimes, he didn’t have to say a word, and even if he did, it was because I was acting out to hear his commanding tone.
I shut the door on that thought and him. Jonathan is the last thing I need on my mind right now.
He doesn’t want to touch me anymore. He thinks I’m insane.
Dickhead.
I try to erase him by focusing on the scene in front of me.
Elsa runs her fingers up Aiden’s chest and whispers something in his ear. His left eye twitches, but his expression remains the same as she disappears around the corner.
Aiden watches her back, then his attention snaps to me — dark and unreadable. Just like his damn father.
He sits opposite me, and I tighten my hold on the towel.
“Get on with it,” he speaks in his stone-cold tone. “The faster you do, the sooner you’ll be out of here.”
What a great host. But I don’t say that. “When you were younger, did you notice something wrong with Alicia?”
I’m almost sure he’s taken aback by the question, but his features quickly return to their normal coldness. “What is this about?”
“Margot said Alicia had episodes where she roamed the house during the night and made things up. She also scribbled over books and walls and —”
“Shut up.” Aiden’s jaw tightens.
“Tell me, please. I need to know.”
“Why? So you can pity her? Feel sorry for not being there? What is your angle exactly?”
“Because I might be becoming like her,” the words leave my mouth in a haunted whisper.
My fingers shake until the towel nearly falls. My teeth start to chatter, but it’s not due to the cold.
Aiden regards me for a second too long, not speaking. I’m not sure if he’s weighing the words he’ll say or just making sense of mine.
“What gave you that idea?”
“I think I’m having hallucinations. Things I swear happened aren’t real, and I’m starting to doubt the things that did happen.”
“That does sound like Alicia.” His voice is calm, low. He rests his elbow on the armrest and leans his head on his knuckles. “She had nights where she insisted she saw ghosts. She wrote about them and even sang them a lullaby. Levi and I thought it was fun, but Uncle James, and especially Jonathan, forbid us from seeing her when she was in that state.”
“Was it…bad?”
“Not when I was young, no. She used to read to me and circle words she thought were interesting. I think she got too bad too fast as I grew up.” His fist clenches. “And Jonathan did nothing to help her.”
I see it then. The grudge. The pain.
It was unnoticeable at first because, like his father, Aiden traps his feelings in a vault. It could be due to his abnormal childhood, losing his mother while being so young, or being raised by a control freak like Jonathan. It could be all of them.
The fact remains that Aiden blames his father for Alicia’s death. Just like I did in the past. I thought he didn’t protect her and that, because of his disregard, my sister died too soon.
“Was Jonathan too negligent?”
“To her physical needs? No. But to her emotional ones?” He scoffs as if that’s all the answer I need.
“I’m so sorry.”
He pauses, lifting his head a bit. “What are you apologising for?”
“Not being there when she left. It would’ve been different.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says, but there’s no harshness behind it. “It wouldn’t have been.”
“It would’ve. For both of us.”
Maybe if I’d been there, I would’ve somehow filled the emotional gap between him and his father. Maybe they could’ve anchored me after losing the only two people I considered family.
Maybes are too cruel.
The fact that those things didn’t happen and never will hurts worse than physical pain.
“You’re not her,” Aiden whispers.
“I know. I never wanted to be.”
“No. You’re not her.” There’s no accusation in his voice. It’s more like…sadness? “You won’t fall like she did.”
“What makes you think that?”
He hesitates. It’s the first time I’ve witnessed Aiden hesitating. “Jonathan never looked at her the way he looks at you.”
My breath shortens at his words, but before I can say anything, Elsa saunters in carrying a mug of hot chocolate and places it between my stiff fingers. The warmth dissipates some of the cold, but it doesn’t fight off the tremors.
I don’t miss how Aiden’s eyes follow Elsa’s every movement as if she’s the magnet to his steel. It’s like he’s physically unable to keep his attention off her.
“You have to change your clothes so you don’t catch a cold,” she tells me. “We’re different sizes, but I’ll see what I can find.”
“No, I better go.” I start to stand, but she gently sits me back down.
“Nonsense. You can’t drive back this late and in the midst of this rain. Stay the night.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Jonathan won’t mind if you spend a night out.” Elsa peeks at her husband and asks in an unsure tone. “Right?”
“He would.” Aiden lifts a shoulder. “But stay anyway.”
Both Elsa and I freeze, unsure if we heard him correctly. Did Aiden just tell me to stay over?
Elsa is the first to recover and grins at him wide, her nose scrunching. “Totally. Let me get you some dry clothes.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m wearing one of Elsa’s dresses. She’s one or two sizes smaller and I’m taller than her, so the cotton material tightens around my breasts, stomach, and hips, and it doesn’t even reach my knees.
Still better than wet clothes. I also change my bandages to dry ones. Jonathan’s voice about not reopening my wounds echoes in my ears the whole time.
Then he looked at me that way. Like he thought I was crazy. Like he was disappointed in me.
I can’t chase that look out of my head, no matter how much I try. I also can’t stop thinking about his platonic touch this morning.
It could be that I’m being petty, but I opt not to tell him where I am. He’s not my keeper. He doesn’t need to know where I’m spending my night.
I join Elsa in the kitchen, and to my surprise, she’s only Aiden’s sous-chef. His movements are organised and precise, and he knows his way around everything.
“Do you always cook?” I try, expecting him to ignore me.
He nods but barely pays me any attention. Well, that’s a start, I guess.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Elsa leans in to whisper. “I don’t cook, like at all. Aiden doesn’t let me.”
“Well, I’m not so good at cooking myself,” I murmur back. “No one should allow me near a kitchen.”
We both laugh, and Aiden throws a glance that suggests he’s not happy to be left out of our conversation.
We try to help him out, but he shoos us away, so we make the table, which is situated near the lounge area.
Elsa and I sit there, sipping wine and staring out the large window that the dining table overlooks. The droplets of rain running down it form long lines and the streetlights give the view a cosy feel.
It is a peaceful night, and I should enjoy it. I could if my heart would stop sinking like an abandoned ship.
“I’m sorry if I interrupted your plans,” I tell Elsa.
She slides the glass of wine on the table. “More like Aiden’s plans, but they’re everyday plans, so he can wait.”
“Are you sure he won’t hate me more?”
“He doesn’t hate you.” She bites her lower lip. “I mean, you’re the woman who tamed Jonathan King. Anyone would respect you for that — Aiden included.”
“I didn’t tame him.” Far from it. If anything, whatever we had has been destroyed since my hallucinations.
“Have you seen the way he’s possessive of your time and attention?”
“That’s because he’s a control freak.”
“Well, that he is, but it’s more. I can tell.”
“You can tell, how?”
“It’s in the little things, you know?”
“The little things?”
She takes a sip of her wine and leans her head on her palm. “Okay, so here’s one. When we sit for family dinners, Jonathan doesn’t touch his food until he makes sure you’re not only settled, but you’ve also started eating.”
“He just likes everyone seated.”
“Jonathan?” She laughs, the sound throaty. “He couldn’t care less about us. He only started that habit when you joined our dinners.”
“Oh.”
“There’s also the way he watches you so you’ll eat or how he snaps at Aiden or Levi whenever they address you. It’s like he doesn’t want your attention divided from him.”
“He snaps at everyone.”
“Not usually. Jonathan is the type who issues orders in the calmest, most frightening way. And he doesn’t actually snap at Aiden and Levi — at least, not when Astrid and I are there.” She grins. “You brought colours to his previously bleak world. I can feel it.”
Her words are supposed to lift my mood, but it flattens at the reminder of what recently happened.
Before Elsa can go on, Aiden re-joins us with plates of pasta and meatballs.
Elsa’s cheeks are red, and mine must be, too, considering this is our second glass of wine.
She tiptoes and kisses Aiden on the mouth, smiling. He deepens it, uncaring for having me as an audience. His arms wrap around her waist and he grabs her by the small of her back as he tongues her with intense passion.
I sigh into my glass of wine, watching them — probably like a creep. At least Aiden shows his emotions freely in front of Elsa. His father is stone-cold and demands punishment for every kiss and night in his bed.
He did kiss you and sleep with you without a punishment last night.
That was before he looked at me that way, so it doesn’t count.
Elsa pulls away, her cheeks coloured crimson. Aiden’s eyes are blazing as if he’ll push her on the table and take her right here and now. That was probably their plan for the night before I interrupted.
As if reading into his intentions, Elsa flops onto her seat, forcing Aiden to do the same. At first, the meal is spent in awkward silence, but Elsa brings up uni and a debate club that Aiden and his best friend named Cole attend.
She complains that they’re only there to make everyone’s lives hell.
Aiden counters that not everyone is boring like her politically correct colleagues.
That gets them both talking and arguing in an adorable kind of way. Or more like, Elsa argues. Aiden seems to rile her up on purpose just to get on her nerves.
“Can you believe this?” Elsa asks me. “Did you have people like this at uni?”
“My best friend, Layla. You met her at that charity. She’s so argumentative and doesn’t like to be ignored. She’s tiny, wears a religious scarf, and appears clueless and soft, so when she made a ruckus in debates, everyone kind of looked at her in awe.”
“She seems so cool,” Elsa says.
“She is.” I’m so proud of that little bugger.
Aiden takes a bite of his food. “Invite her for dinner at Jonathan’s someday.”
“She and Jonathan don’t get along.” I pick at my pasta. “She’s always threatening to practice her black belt karate on him.”
He smirks. “Even better.”
“She does that?” Elsa speaks in a slightly spooked voice.
“Yeah, I swear she has no fear for her life.”
Elsa is about to say something, but the bell rings. She starts to stand, but Aiden gets up first, puts two hands on her shoulders, and sits her back down.
“There’s no way in fuck someone is going to see you drunk.”
“I’m not drunk,” she argues.
He pinches her reddened cheek. “Uh-huh.”
Aiden disappears around the corner before she can say anything.
She leans over. “Tell me more about your friend whom Jonathan hasn’t killed yet.”
“She calls him Johnny.” I giggle, then slap a hand over my mouth. Apparently, I’m also drunk.
I try to never get drunk, because that messes with my senses, and I can’t protect myself if I need to, but I guess I feel safe here.
That’s…both weird and comforting.
“No way! And he lets it happen?” Her gaze trails behind me. “Jonathan.”
“He can’t really stop her.” I giggle again and don’t bother to suppress it. “She’s fearless.”
“No,” Elsa whispers. “Jonathan is here.”
I turn around, and sure enough, my tyrant has come to find me.
