Page 24 of Valentine's with the Cartel

Anan paused, frowning as he tried to dig through his memories for any hint of what she was talking about. "No, I don't think I ever did that," he said after a few seconds of ponderation, shaking his head. "At least, not that I know of."

Mara sighed so loudly that other people stopped what they were doing just to glance at her, reaching up to press a hand to her forehead as if overcome by sudden exhaustion. "Oh, how I wish that were true," she lamented. "But unfortunately, it happened frequently enough that I started keeping a journal of all your strange behaviors and habits during your formative years. You were always such a sensitive soul, after all."

She reached into her clutch bag and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook, placing it on the tablecloth between them. Anan stared at it with wide-eyed disbelief, caught off guard by her revelation. I couldn't blame him.

"You kept a record of... of my nightmares?" He stammered, reaching out to trace the embossed letters on the cover. "Why would you do that? And why am I only hearing about this now?"

Mara shrugged, as if it was no big deal. "As your guardian, it was my duty to document any unusual occurrences that could impact your development or mental health," she explained as though there was nothing wrong with her behavior. "And as for why I'm sharing it with you now... Well, I suppose I wanted you to understand the lengths I went to ensure your well-being, even when you may not have been aware of it."

She shot me a pointed glance, daring me to contradict her. As if I would stoop to her level and argue about who cared for Anan more. That was beneath me. Plus, we both knew the answer.

"So, tell me, nephew," Mara pressed, leaning forward eagerly as she opened the journal to some random page filled with neat, precise notes written in her own handwriting. "What do you make of these observations here? Does anything jog your memory or shed new light on your past?"

I watched as Anan scanned the lines, his brow furrowing deeper with each passing moment. Whatever was written inside that book, it troubled him.

And in the meantime, I wished we could communicate using only our minds. I would be telling him everything that was going on, and how he was being manipulated.

"It doesn't say much really," he muttered, closing the journal before pushing it away across the table towards Mara. "Just dates and brief descriptions of dreams I supposedly had. Nothing concrete or specific." His voice wavered, betraying his unease.

"That's because your subconscious mind didn't want to reveal its secrets too easily," Mara replied, tucking the journal back into her bag. "But now that you're older and hopefully wiser, maybe you'll start to see patterns emerging from the chaos. Perhaps you'll begin to understand yourself on a deeper level."

Or maybe you'll realize just how fucked up your childhood truly was thanks to your neglectful aunt,I thought. But I kept my thoughts to myself, allowing Anan to grapple with whatever revelations he was having.

Anan sat back in his chair, his face pale and tense as he absorbed Mara's words. The mention of his supposed night terrors and the existence of the journal had clearly shaken him, leaving him looking almost haunted. I could see the way his stomach churned, making him appear a little green around the gills. It was like he was reliving something deeply unpleasant.

"Anan,"I began, reaching out to take his hand under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze."Are you alright? You look a bit pale."

He looked up at me with those large, grey eyes filled with turmoil, and I saw the flicker of gratitude pass through them at the break he was getting. At least he still trusted me despite his aunt's best efforts to sow doubt.

"I'm fine,"he murmured, trying to sound more convinced than he probably felt."It's just... unexpected, that's all. I neverknew about this journal or my supposed nightmares. Why is she only bringing this up now?"

His aunt answered before I could."Well, dear, I thought it was important for you to understand your past better,"she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to spring something like this on someone during dinner."Especially now that you're married to Rafael. These insights might help you both navigate certain challenges that may arise in your future together."

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her ridiculous explanation. She was grasping at straws to try and insert herself back into Anan's life, and I wouldn't stand for it.

Chapter 15

Anan

Mara watched me with eagle eyes as I sipped my wine, gauging my reaction to her revelation about the journal and my supposed night terrors. It was unexpected. I didn't know how to react.

I felt like a bug under a magnifying glass, every twitch and micro-expression analyzed for hidden meaning. That was probably not too far from the truth.

"How interesting," she murmured after a long pause, tapping one manicured nail against the side of her glass. "Your husband doesn't seem quite as surprised by this new information as I would have expected given his general demeanor." Her gaze flicked to Rafael's impassive face before returning to mine.

I bristled at the insinuation in her tone, a flicker of anger sparking in my chest despite the nausea that had settled in my stomach at the thought of discussing my mental health with this woman. She made it sound like my very sanity was in question simply because I was married now. As if that had anything to do with the content of my dreams years ago.

"I don't think Rafael's reaction should be analyzed too closely," I replied, hating how defensive I sounded even as a flush crept up my neck. "He and I have an understanding." And he would never doubt me or my perceptions of reality no matter what Mara claimed about the past.

"That remains to be seen," she sniffed, waving a hand as if to brush away the significance of my bond with Rafael. "Time will tell how solid that 'understanding' truly is when faced with the real world."

I ground my teeth together, swallowing hard against the sudden rush of bile that rose in the back of my throat at her ominous words. History had a way of catching up with people in the most inconvenient of ways sometimes.

"And what does that mean exactly?" Rafael interjected. "From where I stand, Anan's only relevant history is the moment he was placed in your care as a child and the years of neglect that followed."

Mara recoiled at the venom dripping from every word, her jaw clenching in irritation even as she forced a brittle smile onto her face. "You're hardly an objective observer, Rafael," she pointed out with a wave of her hand as if his mere presence was offensive. "It's only natural to see everything through the lens of your newfound attachment." She paused, allowing that jab to sink in before turning back to me with an almost pitying look. "But I assure you, nephew—our past is far more complicated than he could ever understand from his limited perspective alone."

A wave of dizziness crashed over me as my stomach lurched at the tension stretching between them. I clenched my jaw hard against a groan of distress, knowing that Mara's words were calculated to unsettle and confuse me, but still unable to stop the insidious doubts from creeping in.

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