Chapter 47: A Father’s Silence
**Thelma Zane’s POV
“You’re leaving already?” I asked, feeling a twinge of reluctance. Dorothy had been the first person to truly spend time with me here, and her company had brightened an otherwise lonely day.
LA
“I have to,” Dorothy replied with a small smile. My grandmother is waiting for me at home. She’s old, and I don’t want her to worry.”
“Maybe I could send her a message?” I suggested. “You could stay the night. We could watch a movie, eat popcorn, and just relax.”
Dorothy shook her head gently. “That’s kind of you, but I really need to go. There are some things I must discuss with her.”
Though disappointed, I nodded. “Alright then. Let me at least walk you out.”
I accompanied Dorothy to say goodbye to my parents and arranged for a chauffeur to take her home safely. As I watched her leave, I felt a pang of sorrow for her quiet resilience.
Later that night, lying in bed, I stared at the brilliant night sky through the window. The prophecy of death lingered in my mind, heavy and unsettling. To calm myself, I recited a poem I’d memorized:
*“If I am not fated to meet you in this life, let me believe I’ve never known you. Let me wake from dreams of you with this sorrowful ache that fades with the dawn.“*
Repeating the words like a mantra, I drifted into a fitful sleep.
**Aldrich’s POV**
My father was a man of contradictions. Serious yet kind, upright yet unyielding–he was like a figure painted in an ancient portrait, noble and distant. I had never fully understood him.
When he summoned me home without explanation, I knew better than to question him directly. It wasn’t his way to reveal his thoughts outright; instead, he would expect me to piece the puzzle together myself.
“Good evening, Father,” I greeted as I entered the grand hall.
“Good evening. Come, sit down, Son,” he replied, gesturing to a chair by the fire.
The exchange felt formal, almost stilted, as though we were strangers meeting for the first time. This wasn’t like him. He was usually forthright, never one to mince words. His uncharacteristic politeness hinted at something weighing on his mind.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me?” I asked, breaking the uneasy silence. “You’re my father, there’s no need to tiptoe around the subject.”
He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the crackling fire. After a moment, he sighed. “You’ve grown so much, Aldrich. I don’t even remember the last time we sat by the fire and talked like this.”
I shrugged, unsure of what to say. “The army keeps me busy. I can’t always take leave to visit, and even if I could, it wouldn’t sit well with my men. They expect me to lead by example.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I understand. But as I watch you now, I realize how much time has passed. You’re a man, and I… I am getting old. If your mother were here, she would be so proud of the person you’ve become.
The mention of my mother brought a lump to my throat. She had passed when I was just a child, and her death was shrouded in mystery. It was a subject no one dared to discuss, not within our household nor among the pack. All I knew was that her death was tied to somet political scandal, one buried so deeply that even her memory had been suppressed.
“I should retire for the night,” I said abruptly, the pain of old wounds too much to bear.
My father nodded, though his eyes betrayed a hint of sadness. As I ascended the stairs, his voice called after me. “Perhaps we could have breakfast together tomorrow morning?”
I paused before replying, “Of course. Goodnight, Father.”
That night, sleep eluded me. I tossed and turned, my thoughts a tangled web of worry and
regret.
I had sent several messages to Thelma, but she hadn’t responded. Perhaps she was busy with training or resting. Still, her silence gnawed at me, especially since our parting had left her
visibly upset.
I sighed, feeling the weight of my failures as her partner. *Forgive me, Thelma. I’m clumsy in love and seem to stumble at every turn. I’ll do better–I promise.*
The thought of calling her crossed my mind, but I dismissed it. It was late, and I didn’t want to disturb her rest. Resolving to speak with her in the morning, I finally drifted into a restless
sleep.
The next morning, the sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the courtyard. I spotted my father walking amidst the light mist, his movements deliberate and measured. Morning exercise had always been a part of his routine–a habit I’d forgotten during my long absence.
Breakfast was a simple affair: toast, fried eggs, bacon, and a fresh vegetable salad. As I picked up my fork, I found myself removing the tomato from my plate, setting it aside as though
preparing Thelma’s portion. She always preferred extra lettuce to the tangy taste of tomatoes. Realizing she wasn’t here, I placed the tomato back on my plate, feeling a pang of longing.
My father didn’t seem to notice my distracted state. He sipped his coffee and scanned the newspaper, his brow furrowing as he read.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked casually.
“Very well,” I lied. In truth, I had dreamed of Thelma breaking up with me–a nightmare so vivid it left me shaken.
“Hmm,” he murmured, setting the paper down. It seems these days are far from peaceful.” “What’s happened?” I asked, curiosity piqued.
“Sivir Academy was attacked last night,” he said gravely. “A group of students engaged in after -school activities was caught in the chaos. Thankfully, there were no injuries.”
The news sent a jolt of fear through me. Sivir Academy? Wasn’t that where Thelma was training?
My mind raced, but I quickly reassured myself. I had escorted her back to the palace the previous night–she should be safe.
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‘An attack on a school is no small matter,” I said, masking my anxiety. “Has the King issued a statement?”
My father nodded. “He summoned us for an emergency meeting last night. He was furious, and rightfully so. However, it appears to have been a misunderstanding. The situation has been resolved.”
A misunderstanding? I frowned, unconvinced. Something about the incident felt off, but I held my tongue.
As the day wore on, I couldn’t shake the unease lingering in my chest. Thelma’s safety, the unresolved tension with my father, the mystery of my mother’s death–it all weighed heavily
on me.
I resolved to find clarity, starting with a conversation with Thelma. Whatever challenges lay ahead, I would face them head–on. For her, for my family, and for the future we hoped to build together.
Chapter 48: The Weight of Marriage
