Page 187 of My Ruthless Neighbor

“I wasn’t a good person, Summer.” He says in a hoarse, raw voice, making my heart shrink.

“I don’t believe that.”

He gives me a sad smile before getting to his feet. I know what he’s doing. He’s shutting me out again. He is retreating back. I can’t let that happen.

When he turns to leave, I wrap my arms around him from behind.

“I lost my mother in fire when I was six.” He tries to turn but I hold tight, not quite ready to face him.

The sorrow I feel at uttering those words out loud almost bring me to my knees.

A shudder runs down my spine as that dreadful night flashes in front of my eyes. Tears burn my eyes.

I don’t know why I’m doing this but the words tumble out of me. “My mom was only sixteen when she met my dad. He was eighteen then and belonged to a powerful family in the county. Though they started dating when my mom turned eighteen, she was in love with him for years. Because it was love at first sight for her.”

“I don’t want to hear the duck’s story!” I pout, sitting up.

Mommy sighs and closes the storybook. “All right, then how about—”

“I wanna hear your story.”

“My story?”

I nod, hugging my doll. “Tell me how you fell in love with Daddy.”

She gives me one of her soft smiles and recites her love story for the umpteenth time.

I smile through tears as I recall persuading mom into telling me her story again and again. I never understood my fascination then but as I grew up, realization dawned on me that the younger version of me wasn’t really different from me.

I latched on to the love story of my parents because it was my escape. By listening to Mom reminiscing the good days I used to pretend that everything is well between them. Before I was born.

“My father’s family had big plans for him. His future was planned for him. But one news ruined those plans. The news of my mother’s pregnancy.”

For a moment, Goldie’s breathing is the only sound filling the silence of the room.

My mother always used to tell me a sugarcoated version of her story. But one day, when she was having a really bad day, her dam broke and she told me everything.

She had no one to talk to. So she unveiled her darkest secrets to a six-year child who couldn’t understand much then but her words came to haunt her later in life.

Archer’s hands cover mine and squeeze. I draw in strength from his touch.

“My father was sensible enough to man up and take responsibility. He married her and in return was disowned by his family. With no college degree, Dad had to resort to odd jobs to make a living. But still they were happy together. In love. But that love began fading away soon after my birth. As mom was a housewife, Dad felt pressured because he was the sole earner.”

Archer remains still, his hands gripping mine.

“They began fighting when he started drinking. It became worse as years went by. And as his drinking got worse, his verbal outburst turned to slaps. And then those slaps turned to fists.” My lip tremble and I stop for a moment.

“Baby…”

“No. I want to do this.” I murmur then continue, “She always used to lock me in my bedroom. To protect me from his wrath. Never let him lay a finger on me. The constant living in fear pushed her into depression. She was on medications. There were times when she confessed on giving up on life but she kept fighting for me. Then one day Dad broke her completely. He hit me.” I pinch my eyes shut.

My palms are sweaty, my legs shaking.

“You have one fucking responsibility, Chelsea. One. And that’s to look after our daughter and you suck at that too.”

“I-I…”

He grabs her jaw, squeezing hard. “She is falling behind in school because of you.”

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