All this time, I was made to believe my biological mother left me with my father because she didn’t want a kid. Never once did it cross my mind that perhaps it could’ve been the opposite.
Every time Rita pampered Nathan, fussing over him like a protective and loving mother, I wondered what I did wrong to never earn the same treatment. Why would she ignore or turn her nose up at seeing me?
When I finally learned the reason, I made sure not to be in the same room as her.
My room was my safe haven.
Even though I gave up halfway through reading my real mother’s diary, I want answers. However, not from a piece of paper, but directly from the source. I want to look into her eyes and listen to her explain why she didn’t fight harder for me. What did Rakesh have on her that made her skip town? Did a part of her believe I was better off with a neglectful and manipulative father?
And if she wanted me that much, why hasn’t she reached out?
If by some miracle, she wants to be in my life now, do I want that? Can we even have a mother-son relationship?
Will the answers bring me peace or more doom?
***
As soon as Iris and I cross the threshold of our apartment later that evening, a low and pained groan escapes her.
The culprit is those deadly high heels of hers.
Throughout the day, I noticed a little crease between her eyebrows whenever she stayed on her feet too long. When I cornered and asked her what was wrong, she brushed it off, saying it was nothing.
Now I know the damn reason.
“That’s it,” I growl, picking her up bridal style and carrying her down the hallway. “No more heels.”
“What?” she squeaks. “Why?”
“They’re hurting you.”
“No.”
“I heard you wince a second ago.”
“That was a tired sigh or something,” she lies, all innocence. “My feet are fine.”
“I know the difference, Rainbow. You’re not fooling me.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“I think I’ll issue a new dress code. No high heels. Only flats.”
“Do you wish to piss off every female employee in your company?”
“I’m sure they’d be relieved.”
“I will continue to wear them,” she fires back, then she bats her eyelashes, humming, “You wouldn’t go back to being mean to me, will you, love?”
Such a brat. “Fine. I’m just going to hide them instead.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” She gapes like what I’m saying is downright criminal.
I dump her on the bed, making her small frame bounce and her sexy bangs ruffle. Settling beside her, I lay her legs on my lap while she leans up on her elbows. She watches me drift my hand down her calf and lock it around her ankle.
“Kian, tell me you’re not serious.”
I unbuckle the slim strap and slide the sandal off.
