Page 111 of When Hearts Ignite

“I confronted him and told him to make a choice. Us or them. I knew he married me for money, but I thought we were happy. He brought TransAmerica back to life with my family’s help. We had three beautiful children together.”

She swipes the tears from her face, the mascara streaking across her pale skin. “She was begging him to leave us…”

Her words fade into the surroundings as the breath I was holding swooshes out of my lungs like someone delivered a powerful liver punch to my gut. I’m rendered immobile, my mind in a haze, my heart fracturing, splintering, pulverizing by the weight of her words as she smashes my world in front of me, snuffing the bright stars in the skies, the warm sunlight behind the clouds.

I shake my head in disbelief. No, it can’t be.

I can’t breathe. The tie is choking me, winding itself around my windpipe with her words and my memories as assailants. A sharp pain stabs through my chest as her words echo repeatedly in my mind and I feel them so viscerally in my body, I flinch and fall to my knees. My fingers grip the wet grass, trying to find purchase on anything that’ll keep me tethered to consciousness even as dots appear in my vision.

This is a nightmare, much worse than the sea monster swallowing me whole.

Mother’s cries pierce the silence of the morning, which was once peaceful but now gruesome.

“I’m sorry, Steven. I’m so, so sorry,” she sobs as she wraps her body around my back, and kneels next to me, not caring about the wet dirt ruining her dress.

Ironically, this is one of the few times Mother has fully wrapped me in an embrace.

One I thought I desperately wanted, but now hate.

My mind fills in the blanks of the spotty memory from that one stormy night a long time ago, when I stood behind the blue chair and peered out the windows and saw the tears pouring down from the skies as Father was overcome with grief. The beautiful woman, with sad eyes and dark hair plastered against her face and the little girl—oh God, the little girl who turned my way as she burrowed herself in her mother’s side. Her beautiful, striking eyes. Her elfin face.

Grace’s eyes. Grace’s face.

The girl who stole my hug that night.

The girl who had my father’s love all along.

His favorite mug. The little handprint.

My sister.

“No,” I heave in deep breaths, the world blurring around me.

I feel lightheaded, my heart spasming out of control. I feel like I’m standing at death’s door, for nothing could feel as horrible as this. “No, no, no. You’re lying. It’s a mistake. It can’t be.”

I stand up slowly, my legs shaking as Mother grabs my jacket. “I wish I were, Steven.”

Father. I need to talk to him. He’ll tell me this is all a lie.

Wrenching myself free from her, I stagger toward the front door, then throw it open and storm back inside, not caring I’m tracking dirt into the house.

I need to talk to him.

My vision blurs at the corners and I can hear the harsh sounds of breathing in my ears.

My strides quicken, and I turn into the dining room.

“Father, is Grace the product of your affair?”

Father freezes, his complexion whitens. His hand clutches his chest as he wheezes, “Y-You found out? You know about her?”

Nausea makes its way up my throat and I stalk toward him. “I-It’s true?”

It can’t be. I refuse to believe it.

Father trembles, sweat gathers on his forehead, and he opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out.

“Father, tell me this is all a lie! How could you do this to all of us? To me?”

---