Chapter 33
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Vivian’s face shifted then, her fear slowly fading into confusion, her brows knitting together.
“Well, I didn’t plan for this to happen,” she said, her voice trembling but defensive.
Adrian ignored her words entirely. He pulled on his shirt in a rush, tugging it into place without buttoning it fully, His jaw was clenched, his eyes wild with frustration.
“Babe, I-” she started again, trying to reach for him with her voice.
But he didn’t give her the chance. Adrian bolted out of the bedroom, his footsteps echoing sharply down the hallway, leaving the door swinging open behind him.
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down like a weight. Vivian sat still on the bed, her lips sealed, her chest rising and falling fast. Her head began to throb painfully, a dull, insistent ache that made her wince. Slowly, she raised her left hand to her temple, holding it there, eyes squeezed shut against the pounding.
After a few long minutes, she finally lowered her hand. Her gaze drifted toward the open door where Adrian had vanished. For a moment, her face was blank and unreadable. Then, like a mask slipping into place, her lips curled upward. A slow, wicked smile crept across her face.
Adrian pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking softly in the quiet house. His steps were heavy, almost dragging, and in his hand was a beautiful backpack, bright red and white, decorated with cartoon prints Hazel had once begged for in the store. He had thought it would make her smile.
But the scene that greeted him broke him deeper than he expected.
On the couch, Amelia sat silently, still dressed impeccably in the corporate attire she had worn to the award day. Her posture was straight, rigid, but her face was unreadable, her eyes fixed ahead as though lost in thought. Across her lap lay Hazel, still in her little school uniform, her head resting softly on her mother’s thighs. She was fast asleep, exhaustion painting her face, her lashes wet as though she had cried herself to sleep.
Their shoes and bags were neatly arranged on the floor nearby. The file Hazel had carried, now half-opened, peeked out beside her little polished shoes. And just next to the couch, on the edge of the rug, sat her golden plaque- the Best Student Award.
The sight stabbed Adrian’s heart like a blade. He froze where he stood, guilt wrapping tightly around him, suffocating him. Slowly, he walked closer, until he stood right before them. The silence in the room was deafening. Amelia didn’t look up. Hazel stirred faintly in her sleep, her lips parting to murmur something unintelligible.
Adrian’s knees buckled under the weight of shame. He sank down right in front of them, falling on one knee as if he was about to propose all over again. He held the little backpack in his hand, but it felt suddenly useless, powerless to bridge the chasm he had created. His voice trembled when he finally spoke.
“Amelia… Hazel… I-” He swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes, real or fake, none could tell. “I know I promised. God knows I promised. But yet again… yet again, I didn’t make it.” His head dropped, his voice breaking. “I knew I was supposed to be there. I knew I was supposed to stand beside you, Hazel, to give that speech for you, to let everyone know how proud I am of you. But I failed. I failed again p>
His words hung in the air, heavy, raw.
“I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he continued, his voice hoarse now. “I was meant to be the one clapping the loudest, cheering the loudest. Instead, you stood there without me.” He shut his eyes tight, fighting the memory of his little girl’s hopeful voice from the night before. “I’m… seriously, seriously sorry p>
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Amelia’s silence cut deeper than any reprimand could. She didn’t even spare him a glance. She simply sat, her hand gently stroking Hazel’s hair as though protecting her from his voice, from his presence.
“Amelia, please,” Adrian begged, his words tumbling out quickly. “I know I said this before, I know I have broker my word, but I-
Before he could finish, Amelia shifted. With the calmness of someone whose patience had been drained dry, she gently tapped Hazel.
“Baby, wake up,” she whispered softly.
Hazel stirred, her small arms stretching as she yawned. She blinked slowly, her drowsy eyes landing briefly on her father kneeling before them, before she turned her face away, nestling closer to her mother’s side.
“Come on, Hazel,” Amelia said quietly. She gathered Hazel’s things from the couch, her daughter’s shoes, the award, the school bag. Hazel rubbed her eyes and sat up, letting Amelia guide her. Without a word, without a glance in Adrian’s direction, Amelia took her daughter by the hand.
The sound of Hazel’s small feet dragging against the floor echoed painfully in the silence as they walked toward the hallway. Adrian’s hand instinctively reached out, but he froze mid-air, watching helplessly as they disappeared from his sight. The sound of the bedroom door closing was final, like a hammer on a coffin.
Still kneeling on the floor, Adrian felt the world collapse inward. His head hung low, imaginary tears spilling unchecked down his face. He clutched the little backpack to his chest, the bright colors mocking him with their cheerfulness.
And then, without warning, the memory of last night came rushing back, like a dagger twisted deeper into his heart.
…Flashback…
He had been at the door, dressed and ready to leave. Amelia’s voice, soft but firm, stopped him.
“Promise?” she asked, her eyes boring into his.
He had smiled, and replied.
“I promise,” he said.
The moment he opened the door to leave, Hazel’s little voice had chimed in from the hallway, halting him.
“Daddy, please, I want you to be there for me tomorrow p>
Adrian had looked down, his heart softening at the sight of her bright eyes and eager smile. He looked from his wife to his daughter, then crouched to her level.
“I promise, baby. I will be there p>
Hazel had lifted her small pinkie finger, her smile wide.
“Pinkie promise p>
He had laughed, his chest swelling with warmth, and hooked his pinkie with hers.
“Pinkie promise,” he repeated. Then he kissed her forehead gently before walking away, still smiling.
…Present Day…
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Now, kneeling alone in the silence of the living room, the weight of his broken promises came crashing down like an avalanche, His chest tightened painfully, his breaths ragged.
He had broken their trust. Again,
Adrian pressed his hands to his face, gnashed his teeth until his jaw ached, and let out a guttural sound of despair. The backpack slipped from his hands and fell to the floor with a dull thud, lying there like another failed offering
The full weight of his actions settled deep in his bones. He had failed his wife. He had failed his daughter. He had failed himself.
And this time, he knew the wound he had inflicted might not heal so easily.
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033
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033
VIVIAN’S wicked smile lingered on her face long after Adrian stormed out of the room. With a swift motion, she tossed the duvet off her body, stretching languidly before striding naked into the bathroom. The cold tiles greeted her feet, and within seconds, the sound of running water filled the air. She tilted her head back under the shower, letting the water cascade over her, washing off the sweat and faint smell of alcohol from the night before.
Her body relaxed, but her mind was buzzing with satisfaction. Adrian had panicked exactly the way she wanted, exactly the way she had envisioned. She let out a chuckle, shaking her head beneath the water stream.
After several minutes, Vivian emerged from the bathroom, steam rolling out behind her as though announcing her entrance. She wrapped a towel lazily around her body, humming as she walked to her vanity. Sitting down, she began brushing her hair, applying lotion with deliberate care, then picked out a chic jumpsuit from her wardrobe. By the time she slipped into it, paired it with simple accessories, and glossed her lips, she looked as radiant as
ever.
Her stomach growled softly, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since last night.
“Food first,” she murmured, grabbing her purse and phone. Just as she stepped toward the door, the screen lit up, buzzing in her hand. Fiona.
Vivian smirked and swiped to answer, pressing the phone against her ear as she pushed the door stepped into the hallway.
open and
“Hey,” Fiona’s voice came through, low but reproachful. “You didn’t show up at school today. Again, Vivian. Seriously p>
Vivian rolled her eyes dramatically, though Fiona couldn’t see it.
“You wouldn’t believe what happened yesterday, girlll!.” She clicked the door shut behind her, her heels clapping lightly against the polished floor as she walked.
Fiona’s voice tightened.
“What again? Don’t tell me it is Adrian p>
“Oh, it is Adrian,” Vivian sang with mischief. “I made him miss yet another important show-up with his family p>
Her laugh echoed down the hallway, sharp and triumphant, bouncing off the walls as though she wanted the entire building to hear how proud she was of her little accomplishment. The satisfaction in her tone was undeniable, every word dripping with wicked delight.
The smell of cinnamon tea lingered faintly in the air as the soft hum of the refrigerator filled the silence in Amelia’s kitchen. The early evening sun streamed gently through the small window above the sink, casting shadows over the tiled counter where Claire sat, legs crossed neatly, a coffee mug cradled between her hands.
She hadn’t come to see Amelia out of courtesy, at least not today, not even Claire. She had her ways of sniffing out stories that never reached the surface, and this one… this one was too sweet to ignore.
“Hmm,” Claire murmured, stirring her tea slowly, eyes flicking toward her sister, who stood at the counter chopping apples with unnecessary force. “Busy day, wasn’t it? I stopped by Satin and Sage earlier.” Her voice was casual, but her eyes sharp. “You weren’t there p>
Amelia froze briefly before continuing with the apples, her blade hitting the cutting board harder than it needed
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“I had… errands.” Her tone was clipped, dismissive, as though that could end it.
“Errands.” Claire let the word linger in the air, savoring it as though it tasted better than the tea. “Strange errands that keep you from your own boutique on a day as important as yesterday. You know, I almost thought you had gone to Hazel’s school. Such a good mother, always showing up for her, even when Adrian doesn’t.” Her lips curled in a knowing smile.
Amelia’s knife slipped slightly against the apple, nearly cutting her finger. She sighed, set it down, and busied herself with arranging the slices in a small bowl. She didn’t answer, which was answer enough for Claire.
“You know,” Claire continued, rising from her chair and circling the kitchen slowly, her heels clicking softly against the tiled floor, “people talk. They say Adrian has a knack for missing the moments that matter. And somehow-” she tilted her head, leaning against the counter across from her sister, “you are always the one cleaning up after him p>
Amelia inhaled sharply through her nose, her back straightening.
“I don’t want to talk about this, Claire p>
Claire feigned surprise.
“Talk about what? I haven’t even said anything. Did something happen?” Her voice was honeyed, dripping with false innocence.
Amelia turned her back to her sister, opening a cupboard as if the sight of plates would shield her from the conversation.
“Please, just… drop it p>
But Claire wasn’t one to drop anything, especially not when she smelled blood.
“Ah, so something did happen. I thought so. You looked far too restless when I walked in. Let me guess… Adrian didn’t show up, did he? Hazel was expecting him, and you had to stand in. Again p>
The words struck like darts, each finding its mark. Amelia kept her face hidden, but her silence screamed what she refused to say aloud.
Claire chuckled under her breath, swirling her tea lazily.
“It must be exhausting, always being the shadow parent, the one making excuses for him. Tell me, Amelia, doesn’t it hurt? Doesn’t it hurt that your husband would rather-” she paused, her eyes narrowing slightly,” entangle himself with distractions than be a father to his own daughter p>
Amelia spun suddenly, her eyes flashing with a sharpness that startled even Claire.
“That is enough.” Her voice quivered, not from weakness, but from the strain of holding herself together. “You don’t know anything about my marriage. You don’t know what I endure p>
“Oh, but I do,” Claire said softly, almost pitying, though the gleam in her eyes betrayed her glee. “I have watched it for years. Adrian spirals, and you patch him up. Adrian embarrasses himself, and you smile for the cameras, Adrian forgets his daughter, and you are there, filling the seat so Hazel doesn’t feel abandoned. It is the same story, over and over again. Yet, mum thinks it is the opposite that happens p>
The slam of the front door cut through the tension like a blade. Hazel’s small footsteps pattered against the floor as she rushed in, her schoolbag bouncing against her back.
“Aunty Claire!” Hazel squealed, running into the kitchen. She threw her arms around her aunt, her little face
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lighting up with joy.
Claire bent down, hugging the girl warmly, though her eyes flicked toward Amelia, savoring the relief that washed over her sister’s face at the interruption.
“Welcome back, sweetheart,” Amelia said quickly, her voice a little too bright. She strode over, gently pulling Hazel away. “Go wash your hands, darling. We will have a snack soon p>
“Yes, Mommy!” Hazel chirped before running down the hall.
The moment her daughter disappeared, Amelia turned back to the sink, her back rigid. Claire smirked, setting her mug down on the counter with a soft clink.
“Well, I suppose we will save this little chat for another time,” she said mockingly. Her laugh, low and biting, filled the kitchen. “But Amelia… you can’t hide the truth forever. Not from me, and certainly not from Hazel p>
Amelia’s hands trembled slightly as she wiped the counter with a rag, refusing to meet her sister’s eyes.
Claire slung her purse over her shoulder, paused at the doorway, and with a final smirk, added, “It is almost funny, isn’t it? Everyone sees Adrian’s recklessness. But me? I see yours too, your silence, your enabling, your desperate little cover-ups. Careful, dear sister. Silence is just another form of guilt p>
With that, she swept out of the kitchen, her laughter echoing faintly down the hallway, leaving Amelia rooted in place, her jaw tight, her chest rising and falling with a storm she refused to unleash.
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Olivia Harris
Olivia Harris is an emerging author celebrated for her captivating romantic and steamy novels. With a talent for crafting deep emotional connections and fiery chemistry between her characters, Olivia’s stories offer readers an escape into worlds filled with passion, intrigue, and heart-stopping drama.