Sitting in his wheelchair, Mr White stared at the cup of coffee in his hands. The dark liquid shimmered against the gleaming porcelain mug, the steam curling in delicate wisps under the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room was flooded with light, bouncing off the polished marble floors and the golden accents of the furniture, a testament to his wealth. His gnarled fingers,veined and weathered, cradled the mug with a peculiar mix of care and tension, as though grounding himself in its warmth. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of lilies from the crystal vase on the side table. The sudden creak of the door startled him, shattering the stillness. His grip on the mug tightened, the tendons in his hand straining, and his jaw set as he looked up, his sharp gaze scanning for the source of the intrusion.
Alena entered, closing the door with a soft click. Her footsteps echoed in the silence as she moved closer. She stopped just inches from him, her gaze sharp, unwavering.
“What are you doing here?” Mr White’s voice cracked like brittle wood as he jabbed a finger toward the door. “Where’s Olive? I told him-” A spastic cough shuddered his body, coffee splashing over his trembling hand as each hack jolted his body violently. He set the mug on the stool beside him with a shaky breath.
“Leave. Now.”
Alena’s lips parted, her breath hitching as her shoulders tensed. “You hate me, don’t you?” she said, the words quivering into the air like a fragile thread threatening to snap. Yet, her chin tilted upward, her gaze steady and unyielding.
Mr White’s fingers twitched against the armrest, his breath faltering as though the accusation had landed like a blow. His chest rose in a sharp, shallow inhale, and a faint tremor rippled through his jaw. For a fleeting moment, his eyes softened, betraying a raw, unspoken ache that lingered just beneath the surface, before hardening into a cold, measured glare.
“Think what you want,” he snapped, his voice rising despite the strain. “Do you expect me to forget? After you betrayed your sister? You and Alison...” He scoffed bitterly, looking away, his face contorting with something unspoken.
He had watched them grow up under his roof. Now, the distance between them felt like an insurmountable chasm. He had stayed silent for too long, pretending he didn’t see the hate festering between them. His shame kept him quiet, as did his fear. But when the police arrived, bringing the news of Alison’s violence, and the pictures of Alena and Jeff’s affair, he couldn’t help but blame himself for everything. He had known, but he had done nothing. Coward! Coward!
Tears threatened to form, but he wiped them away quickly, turning his gaze down. His voice was barely a whisper. “We have nothing to talk about. Leave.”
He wanted to make up for all the lost time, to piece together the fragments of broken promises and buried mistakes. His hands tightened into fists on his lap, the weight of regret pressing down like an anchor. But it was too late. The clock had long since run out, its relentless ticking now replaced by an unbearable silence. Nothing could be undone, nothing could be mended—not anymore.
“Why did you do that to me?” Alena’s voice cracked, desperation creeping in. “Why did you lie to us?”
The question stung like an open wound. Mr White frowned, its weight sinking into him. When he looked up, he saw the tears in her eyes, confusion etching his features.
The last time he saw tears in Alena’s eyes, she was an innocent child, with a sweetness that had softened even his hardest moments. Now, the woman before him, hardened by pain, made his heartache.
His lips trembled as a bitter smile pulled at his face, a mixture of nostalgia and regret.
“I remember everything... my real mother... my lost memories...” Alena’s voice shook. As she glanced at his trembling hands, her shoulders trembled, and her chest hitched with uneven breaths. A tear traced a slow path down her cheek, glinting in the light before she swiped it away with the back of her hand, quick and forceful. Her jaw tightened, and she blinked hard, as though determined to seal the rest of her tears behind a fragile dam.
“Rose… She was never ours, was she? You lied. You deceived us all,” she scoffed.
Mr White’s jaw clenched, the lines on his face deepening as his expression turned rigid.
“What else do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice heavy. “You were too young... You needed a mother,” he snorted bitterly. “You lost your memories because of your mother’s death... Do you want me to remind you what almost took your life?” His voice trembled as the memory resurfaced. The day Alena nearly died in his arms. His panic, fear, and helplessness consumed his entire soul. He could still hear his panicked voice calling her name echoing like a bell in his mind.
“I thought I did the right thing,” he said, voice firming, his hands gripping the chair as if it were the only thing holding him together.
“So you don’t even plan to tell us the truth, do you?”
Alena’s voice was sharp, each word cutting through the air like shards of glass. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, trembling with restrained fury. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to us? Rose—” Her voice cracked, the name catching in her throat. Her lips parted as though the weight of the truth was too much to bear. A shudder ran through her, and she pressed them shut, swallowing hard against the words she couldn’t force into the open. A groan of frustration escaped her lips as she ran her fingers through her hair. What could he even do now? Telling him wouldn’t change anything—wouldn’t it just make things worse? The thought lingered in her mind.
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Maybe he had been right. Maybe he had no choice. Her gaze softened as she watched him—once strong, now so fragile, so weak. How lonely he must have been, she thought bitterly. And how blind they had been to it. They had all distanced themselves from him, refusing to see the regret, the guilt that ate away at him.
Her hands clenched tighter, nails digging into her palms. They had known but had chosen to ignore it, letting their own desires eclipse the broken man before them. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She turned, hand reaching for the door handle.
And then, a voice.
“I’m sorry,” Mr White’s voice broke through the air, raw and fragile. “I know I’m not a good father. I know... I know everything is my fault... I’m... so... sorry.”
Alena froze. For a heartbeat, she considered running to him, wrapping her arms around him, but the thought made her anxious. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
A bittersweet smile tugged at her lips, unbidden, softening her expression despite the storm in her chest. She couldn’t help it. It was the kind of smile that spoke of endings, of things unsaid. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer, searching his face for something—anything—but finding only silence. Without another word, she turned on her heel, her footsteps steady, though the weight of the moment clung to every step.
The door slammed behind her with a resounding crack that seemed to slice through the air. The sound echoed in the vast room, hollow and unrelenting.
Mr White flinched, his body stiffening in the chair. The sound rattled in his ears, loud enough to drown out the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. His hands tightened on the armrests, knuckles blanching as he gripped them like lifelines. But it wasn’t enough to anchor him.
His body lurched forward, a sudden, uncontrollable motion that sent him toppling out of the chair. He hit the floor with a muted thud, the cold marble unforgiving beneath him. A muffled groan escaped his lips, ragged and pained. His chest heaved, the air burning as it filled his lungs. Pain shot through him, sharp and unyielding, cutting deeper than the ache in his limbs. His trembling hand flew to his chest, clawing at his shirt as though trying to tear away the invisible weight crushing him. His heart burned, the agony not just physical but a searing reminder of all he had failed to fix, of the damage that no amount of effort could undo. The echoes of the slamming door faded, but the emptiness it left behind lingered, vast and suffocating.
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Alena slammed the car door shut, leaning forward, her forehead pressed against the cool leather of the steering wheel. Her hands gripped it so tightly, that her knuckles turned white. She gasped for air, trying to hold herself together as the sobs wracked through her body.
“I’m sorry...” she whispered, her voice breaking. “It’s all my fault.”
Memories of lies and Rose’s manipulations stormed through her mind like an unrelenting tide. How much she had trusted her. She had seen her as a mother, hanging on every word, every promise. But she had been so wrong—so blind. The truth cut deeper than any blade. Stupid. Cruel. Naive. The words echoed in her head, each one a hammer blow to her chest.
“It’s all my fault,” Alena whispered, her voice shaking as she clenched her teeth. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. With a sharp cry, she slammed her fist against the steering, the impact reverberating through the car. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks, falling in steady streams onto the floor like relentless rain.
Her phone buzzed, its shrill ringtone cutting through the suffocating silence. But Alena didn’t notice. Her mind was locked away, deaf to the world outside. The pain held her captive, a prison of regret and anguish from which she couldn’t escape.
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Rose was about to drop her phone on the chair when it buzzed, causing her brow to knit slightly. She glanced at the caller ID before answering.
“Doctor Eve,” Rose said curtly into the phone.
“Rose,” Eve, her sister, dropped the formality, her voice tense and urgent.
Rose’s frown deepened, unease creeping in. “What’s wrong?”
“A nurse ran into the doctor’s office a few minutes ago,” Eve began, her words rushed. “She said Alicia is awake. And—”
“Awake?” Rose exclaimed, leaping to her feet. Her muscles tensed her body on high alert.
“I’m sorry, Rose. I never imagined she’d wake up so quickly,” Eve admitted, her voice heavy with guilt.
“And you expect me to understand, Eve?” Rose shouted, panic surging through her. Her carefully laid plans were unravelling. How could they be so careless? If only I could handle everything myself! “She should have been dead by now! What’s the point of your work, you fool?”
Eve’s silence on the other end of the line only fueled
Rose’s frustration. She shut her eyes and exhaled sharply, trying to regain her composure.
“Who else knows about this?”
Rose could hear Eve gritting her teeth, and her brows furrowed further.
“Who knows?” she demanded impatiently, her voice cold and cutting.
“I swear I wasn’t there when Alena was called,” Eve stammered.
“Alena?” Rose’s voice rose again, her hand gripping the phone tightly.
“But... I think there’s a good part of it,” Eve added hesitantly, biting her lip as soon as the words left her mouth, clearly regretting them.
Rose let out a bitter laugh, her disbelief cutting through the tension.
“What is it?” she asked, her voice laced with scorn.
“She doesn’t remember her recent memories,” Eve explained cautiously. “The doctors said she’s forgotten them due to shock and her unwillingness to recall such traumatic events.”
Rose narrowed her eyes, doubt flashing across her face.
“And you believe that?” she asked, her lips curling into a derisive smile.
“The doctors confirmed it, Rose. You know I wouldn’t give you false information,” Eve said, her tone defensive.
“Whatever, I’ll be on my way right now,” Rose said impatiently, cutting the conversation short. She tilted her head, trying to process what she’d just heard.
Alicia doesn’t remember her recent memories. Rose scoffed again, though this time it felt more like a hollow, exasperated sound. She couldn’t decide whether to feel relieved or infuriated by this twist.
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