Wilted Love

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Chapter 18

‘What are you doing here?’ I repeated the question. Endymion looked at me with a shocked expression, his mouth wide open and so was his eyes as he rested his palm on his chest pretending to be offended by my question.

‘Why, that’s not a way to speak to your br-friend,’ He laughed. I gave him a side eyed look, ignoring his presence and greeting the guest properly. My mother got me a chair and sat me down. Across from me were two strangers, a man in a black suit with a woman in a black office type dress.

‘So, shall we continue or would you like to speak about this another time?’ The man in the black suit spoke. My father sipped on his whiskey, inhaling sharply.

‘Of course, after the wedding she will find out,’ My father responded with a cold tone. I looked at him with a questioning stare. Just as I was going to ask what this conversation was about, my mother grabbed my arm scooping me up and far away from them all, and into our white and black kitchen.

She walked over to our mini bar grabbing herself some Bailey’s and pouring it into her favourite glass. I watched her with big curious eyes. Tonight was eventful, and I haven’t stepped into this household in a while. My parents haven’t spoken to me neither but alas, they treated my unexpected comings without a thread of surprise.

‘What brings you here, child?’

‘I-I just-I,’

‘Come on, out with it dear,’ My mother spoke sternly, bringing the alcohol near her mouth.

‘I was just... I fought with Night..’ I trialled off, too ashamed to admit the truth. However, everyone knew that my relationship with Night was less the perfect. Was it even a relationship? I looked at my mother, her eyes twinkling with a gleam I have never seen before. She was glowing with happiness and you could tell.

‘Well, you didn’t listen to me, though we do very much enjoy their, how should I put it?’ My mother looked away, her face concentrating at one random point. ‘Ah, yes! Their monthly installments.’ The way the words rolled off her tongue felt like ice daggers being pierced through my weak heart repeatedly. My mother always had a “that’s the facts” attitude about herself - she never missed an opportunity to claw at your pain, reopening any wounds you tried to patch up. She claims it’s to build character, to make you think about the choices you have made. To deter you from ever doing it again.

‘Listen, I love you very much. You’re my child, my first child... however, you didn’t wish to listen to me. Didn’t I tell you when you were 16 to not mingle with the Anstons?’ She hushed the last part. I still remember how my mother would always shout at me the moment I got home after she saw me hanging out with the rebellious Night. Back then, he was sweet - misunderstood - but sweet. He cared for me in ways I never thought one could care for another, unfortunately, our families knew each other before than too.

I still have faint memories of us as children running around the luscious garden, with blankets of diverse flowers stretching out on the garden with beautiful and intricate paths. My mother always took pride in her garden. Always saying how long it took for her to turn her dream into a reality... Although it’s a blur, I can only remember crying hard on top of my fluffy pillows when my parents said we could no longer see the Anstons. No explanations but then again, what could a child understand? All I knew was they were taking me away from my best friends - my only friends - the Anston boys.

‘If the world knew what goes behind the scenes, they’d call you worse than they already do. I can imagine it, “The Gold-Digger Of London”. They couldn’t care less about you, we are, in their eyes, just a mere-’ I interrupted my mother’s long winded and harsh speech. I didn’t want to hear what I already knew.

‘Who are those people in the living room, and why the hell is Endymion here?’ I questioned. My mother sipped her Bailey’s, giving me a side eye look. I could feel the bile in my stomach rise, something wasn’t right, and the atmosphere around us started to change with the mood.

‘You ask a lot of questions for someone who hasn’t been here, very long my dear. Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to question your parents this way? We have friends, and Endymion, well, he seemed to be a tad lonely - I’m not surprised, don’t you agree?’ I looked at her with no emotions. She’s always been the type to hit you with a snarky comment here and there, but she loves those closest to her heart, just shows her love in a different way.

‘Anyways, care for a drink? A pornstar martini sounds like it would be a good drink for you,’ my mother stated. I gave her a simple nod, she smiled and got everything prepared as I stood in the kitchen, thinking about the recent events.


‘No, she won’t be seeing you, get out of here young man!’ I heard my dad scream at someone. Turning the faucet off, I walked out of the shower tube, drying myself as quickly as I could before throwing on my outfit.

‘What’s happening?’ I asked as I walked out of my room, bumping into my distress looking mother in the hallway. She looked at me with her pursed lips, shaking her head. ‘Mother, don’t tell me it’s him,’ Why did I even bother asking, he was going to eventually find me. Never did I think for a second he’d come here.

‘Hurry child, go back into your room, we will sort this mess of yours out - once again,’ She whispered the last part. I gave her a questioning look before she pushed me into my room, closing the door with a loud thump. However, she forgot to lock the door from the outside and as soon as I heard her footsteps disappear, I slipped through the door.

‘Diora, this is your issue, not theirs.’ I whispered to myself in hopes this would give me the courage to face him. As I walked down the stairs, I could hear hushed voices exchanging between my father and who I thought was Night.

‘Diora, what are you doing-’

‘Mother, I am old enough to make decisions on my own,’ I continued to walk closer, and that’s when my father turned back around showing me the man who he was speaking to. Francis, Sir Francis.

’What is happening here? I gave them a questionable look. My father and mother exchanged worried expressions. I looked at them with my brows raised, then turned my attention to a smiling Francis.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘That’s no way to talk to a royal, Diora,’ His smile widen even more. I could feel my cheeks heat up from embarrassment. ‘Oh no, Dior, I was just playing,’ He looked at me with an exaggerated sorrowful expression. My father muttered under his breath “royal my ass” loud enough for only me to hear - or at least I hoped - though Francis didn’t react at all.

‘I’m here to take you out, apologise for last night’s events,’ He outstretched his hand for me, to which I gladly held.

‘Diora, Night won’t be happy about this.’ My dad spoke in a harsh tone. I slowly turned towards him. I could see the disappointment in his face, although he didn’t seem keen on Night, he’s not any less keen seeing me with another man other than my fiancé.

‘Night... well, he will just have to suck it up just like I have throughout the years,’ Francis squeezed my hand and pushed me towards him. I knew I was playing with fire.

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