Chapter 27
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Getting sticky.
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Morning light bled through the curtains in tired streaks. Jay stepped in barefoot, her hair still messy from sleep, eyes puffy, mind sluggish. She barely felt the cold floor beneath her as she opened the fridge, reaching for the milk carton.
But before she could close the door, she heard voices low, intense drifting in from the drawing room.
"…You don't have to force her, Elyana," her father's voice came. Tired, angry and heartbroken. "She's a little girl. Why are you pushing her so hard?"
Jay froze, milk still in her hand, the door ajar.
"I know you love her too," he continued, his voice cracking. "Be soft with her. She's already hurt more than you know. We've neglected her enough… God, don't push her so far that marriage becomes an escape from us."
There was a pause. And then her mother's voice, sharp and defensive, rang out. "I've neglected her? You think I don't see her pain? You think I don't carry it in my own chest every night when I lie awake wondering where I went wrong?"
Jay's hands trembled slightly. The milk carton shook. She shut the fridge slowly, silently, leaning back against it.
"She wants to escape me?" her mother scoffed bitterly. "Then let her go. Let her go wherever she wants. It's not just you, it's both of us, remember?"
Her father didn't yell. But his voice, when it came next, was like a slow, heavy tide of guilt.
"Do you even know she had stomach pain until a few nights ago?" he asked quietly. "Did you notice the medicine packets in her room? The smell of peppermint? Do you even know why she keeps peppermint oil near her pillow? She's stressed, Elyana. So much that it's making her sick."
A silence reigned for a while. Jay could almost hear her mother's breath catch. She could imagine her standing there, stunned and shame-faced.
"She's suffering," her father said softly after a while. "And we didn't see it. I didn't see it either not until yesterday."
Jay felt a lump rising in her throat. She reached to steady herself against the counter.
Then came her father's final words low and firm. "And don't let her know that the marriage is scheduled for next weekend. Not yet. I'm not letting her be pushed into this. If she's not ready, I'll call it off. I swear to you. I won't watch her lose herself."
"But it's for her own good," her mother said, her tone faltering. "You know that. This family is wealthy. Influential. Respected by the whole city. She'll be… she'll be safe. She'll be taken care of. Maybe even… happy."
"Maybe!!! Do you even realize what are you saying? Maybe?" he attacked.
"I mean to say she will be happy… maybe in a sense like… if she accepts…ugh you father daughter! I am the wrong one … I know it now! You both hate me!" her mother blamed.
Jay stood there in silence for a few more seconds, absorbing everything. The pain. The realization. The deep, aching love wrapped up in broken ways of showing it.
Then, suddenly, with a quiet exhale, she stepped out from the hallway and was about to go into her own room, but then suddenly struck her and she walked straight into the drawing room.
Both her parents looked up in surprise.
She looked at her father, not her mother, and said in a clear, even voice, "Dad, I told you last night. I'm not weak-willed. And I'm not a child. I'm ready. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
Her father started to rise. "Jay…"
"Why wait for next weekend?" she said, her tone quiet but firm. "If everyone's ready, let's do it this weekend. The sooner the better."
Her father stared at her, almost as if he didn't recognize the girl standing in front of him the girl who had once run crying from math homework, who had hidden under blankets after nightmares. Now she stood tall, still in her nightshirt, chin high, trembling but resolute.
He finally spoke, voice cautious. "Child… give it a rest. You don't have to rush. This is a major decision. You need to know if you two are even compatible. At least meet him first I suggest."
"I don't want to meet anyone," Jay said. "Just… let's get it over with."
Her father stepped toward her, concern flooding his face. "Jay…"
But she was already turning back. "Please. Just trust me."
And without waiting for another word, she returned to her room, shut the door, changed into jeans and a dark shirt, and grabbed her university bag.
She didn't say goodbye.
….
The greenhouse was quiet, its high glass dome fogged with early morning condensation. The smell of damp soil, jasmine, and fresh leaves wrapped the air in something comforting and timeless.
Jay walked through the green corridor toward the far corner where Vanelope sat crouched near a raised plant bed, misting a group of delicate, bluish-white leaves.
"Skipping class?" Jay asked gently.
Vanelope didn't look up. "Not skipping. Just… observing this new plant I'm working on. It's sensitive to temperature changes."
Jay crouched beside her. "Still. First class of the day?"
"I didn't feel like going."
Jay smiled faintly and leaned back against a wooden beam. "Then I won't go either."
Vanelope glanced at her, one brow raised. "You? Miss punctual? Skipping class?"
"I want to spend time with you," Jay said simply. "Honestly, I don't even know if I'll be coming back to university after the next couple of weeks."
Vanelope dropped her watering can.
She straightened. "Jay…"
Jay didn't meet her eyes. "Just being realistic. Who knows what kind of rules they have? What if they don't let me go out, don't let me study, don't let me breathe?"
Vanelope stepped closer. "Jay, if you don't want this if you're being forced just tell me. You know I meant it when I said you could stay with me. Move in. We can figure it out."
Jay turned to her, soft smile on her face. "I know. And thank you. But I'm not running. I'm just… preparing. I want to be mentally strong. I've heard they're rich, powerful. The kind who expect perfection from a daughter-in-law. I'm walking into a world I know nothing about."
She plucked a leaf and twirled it between her fingers.
"I used to think my mom was pushing me because she didn't care," she murmured. "But now I think… maybe she's lost herself too. Maybe she's been trapped in her own expectations for so long, she forgot how to love properly."
Vanelope narrowed her eyes. "That's generous of you."
Jay laughed lightly. "It's not forgiveness. It's just… understanding. Maybe it's her first time, too."
Vanelope blinked. "First time?"
"Being a mother," Jay said. "Maybe she never figured out how. Maybe she's still trying."
Vanelope stared at her. "Jay… you've grown up."
Jay smiled, but her eyes shimmered with something like pain. "I didn't want to. It just… happened."
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But before she could close the door, she heard voices low, intense drifting in from the drawing room.
"…You don't have to force her, Elyana," her father's voice came. Tired, angry and heartbroken. "She's a little girl. Why are you pushing her so hard?"
Jay froze, milk still in her hand, the door ajar.
"I know you love her too," he continued, his voice cracking. "Be soft with her. She's already hurt more than you know. We've neglected her enough… God, don't push her so far that marriage becomes an escape from us."
There was a pause. And then her mother's voice, sharp and defensive, rang out. "I've neglected her? You think I don't see her pain? You think I don't carry it in my own chest every night when I lie awake wondering where I went wrong?"
Jay's hands trembled slightly. The milk carton shook. She shut the fridge slowly, silently, leaning back against it.
"She wants to escape me?" her mother scoffed bitterly. "Then let her go. Let her go wherever she wants. It's not just you, it's both of us, remember?"
Her father didn't yell. But his voice, when it came next, was like a slow, heavy tide of guilt.
"Do you even know she had stomach pain until a few nights ago?" he asked quietly. "Did you notice the medicine packets in her room? The smell of peppermint? Do you even know why she keeps peppermint oil near her pillow? She's stressed, Elyana. So much that it's making her sick."
A silence reigned for a while. Jay could almost hear her mother's breath catch. She could imagine her standing there, stunned and shame-faced.
"She's suffering," her father said softly after a while. "And we didn't see it. I didn't see it either not until yesterday."
Jay felt a lump rising in her throat. She reached to steady herself against the counter.
Then came her father's final words low and firm. "And don't let her know that the marriage is scheduled for next weekend. Not yet. I'm not letting her be pushed into this. If she's not ready, I'll call it off. I swear to you. I won't watch her lose herself."
"But it's for her own good," her mother said, her tone faltering. "You know that. This family is wealthy. Influential. Respected by the whole city. She'll be… she'll be safe. She'll be taken care of. Maybe even… happy."
"Maybe!!! Do you even realize what are you saying? Maybe?" he attacked.
"I mean to say she will be happy… maybe in a sense like… if she accepts…ugh you father daughter! I am the wrong one … I know it now! You both hate me!" her mother blamed.
Jay stood there in silence for a few more seconds, absorbing everything. The pain. The realization. The deep, aching love wrapped up in broken ways of showing it.
Then, suddenly, with a quiet exhale, she stepped out from the hallway and was about to go into her own room, but then suddenly struck her and she walked straight into the drawing room.
Both her parents looked up in surprise.
She looked at her father, not her mother, and said in a clear, even voice, "Dad, I told you last night. I'm not weak-willed. And I'm not a child. I'm ready. I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
Her father started to rise. "Jay…"
"Why wait for next weekend?" she said, her tone quiet but firm. "If everyone's ready, let's do it this weekend. The sooner the better."
Her father stared at her, almost as if he didn't recognize the girl standing in front of him the girl who had once run crying from math homework, who had hidden under blankets after nightmares. Now she stood tall, still in her nightshirt, chin high, trembling but resolute.
He finally spoke, voice cautious. "Child… give it a rest. You don't have to rush. This is a major decision. You need to know if you two are even compatible. At least meet him first I suggest."
"I don't want to meet anyone," Jay said. "Just… let's get it over with."
Her father stepped toward her, concern flooding his face. "Jay…"
But she was already turning back. "Please. Just trust me."
And without waiting for another word, she returned to her room, shut the door, changed into jeans and a dark shirt, and grabbed her university bag.
She didn't say goodbye.
….
The greenhouse was quiet, its high glass dome fogged with early morning condensation. The smell of damp soil, jasmine, and fresh leaves wrapped the air in something comforting and timeless.
Jay walked through the green corridor toward the far corner where Vanelope sat crouched near a raised plant bed, misting a group of delicate, bluish-white leaves.
"Skipping class?" Jay asked gently.
Vanelope didn't look up. "Not skipping. Just… observing this new plant I'm working on. It's sensitive to temperature changes."
Jay crouched beside her. "Still. First class of the day?"
"I didn't feel like going."
Jay smiled faintly and leaned back against a wooden beam. "Then I won't go either."
Vanelope glanced at her, one brow raised. "You? Miss punctual? Skipping class?"
"I want to spend time with you," Jay said simply. "Honestly, I don't even know if I'll be coming back to university after the next couple of weeks."
Vanelope dropped her watering can.
She straightened. "Jay…"
Jay didn't meet her eyes. "Just being realistic. Who knows what kind of rules they have? What if they don't let me go out, don't let me study, don't let me breathe?"
Vanelope stepped closer. "Jay, if you don't want this if you're being forced just tell me. You know I meant it when I said you could stay with me. Move in. We can figure it out."
Jay turned to her, soft smile on her face. "I know. And thank you. But I'm not running. I'm just… preparing. I want to be mentally strong. I've heard they're rich, powerful. The kind who expect perfection from a daughter-in-law. I'm walking into a world I know nothing about."
She plucked a leaf and twirled it between her fingers.
"I used to think my mom was pushing me because she didn't care," she murmured. "But now I think… maybe she's lost herself too. Maybe she's been trapped in her own expectations for so long, she forgot how to love properly."
Vanelope narrowed her eyes. "That's generous of you."
Jay laughed lightly. "It's not forgiveness. It's just… understanding. Maybe it's her first time, too."
Vanelope blinked. "First time?"
"Being a mother," Jay said. "Maybe she never figured out how. Maybe she's still trying."
Vanelope stared at her. "Jay… you've grown up."
Jay smiled, but her eyes shimmered with something like pain. "I didn't want to. It just… happened."
Want to know what happens next before anyone else?I post new chapters 1 week early on Patreon, and right now, you can try it FREE for 7 days, and Your support helps me keep writing.
patreon.com/accuscripter
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