Iris:
My mother’s eyes shimred as she continued staring at my father. I ignored her. Instead, I forced myself to keep eating despite the discomfort.
"You know I am no longer the lycan king, so I cannot make that decision," my father replied.
I almost choked on my food. What he ant was clear. I was in charge now, and she was supposed to speak to .
My mother snapped her head toward , then looked back at my father. I caught a trace of betrayal in her eyes.
"You want to beg my own daughter to wake up her brother?" my mother demanded, pointing to her chest.
Her eyes grew watery as she continued to stare at him.
"It is not about begging," my father responded calmly. "You need to speak with her. Besides, if Wilson is sleeping, then it is not ti for him to wake up yet."
His words shocked both my mother and . I had thought he wanted Wilson to wake. I wondered what had happened while I was gone that caused my father to change his stance so completely.
"Anyway, let’s not spoil the mood," my father added. "This is a celebration for my daughter. Her crowning."
He turned to my mother, his tone firm.
"She has already had too much taken from her. I want this mont to belong to her."
My mother looked even more hurt as she listened to my father. At that mont, I understood that she was no longer the person she used to be.
"When are you unlinking my son from your son?" my mother snapped, ignoring my father’s request as she directed the question at .
It was the way she said it that made pause.
My father looked upset that she had dismissed him, but that was who my mother was. She never cared what others thought. If she wanted sothing, she expected it to be done.
"We will talk about it in the morning," I replied honestly. I wanted them unlinked too.
My mother let out a deep sigh, and for the first ti that evening, a smile appeared on her lips. I wondered if she would ever realize she had two children.
At that point, I was not sure I cared. Since receiving the crown and my father’s approval, it seed I was fine without a mother.
The dinner ended soon after. My mother was asked to return to her room. I noticed she did not like that.
She had been unwell, so no dessert for her.
As she wandered upstairs, dessert was placed on the table.
"I cannot eat all that," I told my father, smiling as I shook my head.
"Co on, it is the best of the best," my father insisted.
He grabbed the largest spoon and reached straight for the cake without cutting it.
"Father," I laughed.
"I have always wanted to do this," he added, taking large bites. "Eat the cake whole."
So I joined him.
There were other desserts too, tarts, kunafa, and sweets from all over the world. I felt special, like a child whose birthday was being celebrated.
"Do not give your brother the cure yet," my father remarked between bites.
For a mont, I was not sure if I had heard him correctly or if my ears were ringing.
"Sorry, what?" I asked, smiling in disbelief.
"For the peace of the community and your own life, do not wake him up," my father added, pretending to speak casually as he continued eating dessert.
His voice dropped to a low whisper, and it sent a chill through .
"But Father, he is linked to my son’s life. If Mother wakes him up again," I began to explain.
My father shook his head.
"He will not be waking up again. Do not worry," he assured . "You will be the only one who knows his new location."
As he spoke, he slid a small piece of paper toward .
"Why?" I asked him in confusion.
"Do you think the hatred cos only from your mother?" my father continued. "Have you ever wondered what your brother says when he wakes up?"
This ti, he stopped eating. He turned fully toward and held my gaze. The intensity of it sent a strong shiver through .
"Wilson hates ?" I asked, stunned.
My father took a deep breath.
"Do you not think he would?" he replied. "You lived a normal life while he suffered."
He was not speaking from his own feelings. He was explaining what my brother likely felt.
That realization surprised . I had never considered that the resentnt ca directly from my brother, and that my mother was simply taking his side.
"Make sure you have everything under control before you ever plan to wake him up," my father warned. "And even then, do not trust him."
With that, he wiped his mouth gently with a napkin.
I stared at my father in silence, confused, until he snapped his fingers in front of my face to pull back.
"I am just shocked," I reacted.
He nodded, letting know he understood.
"Anyway, I want to make sure Scarlett heals from whatever my mother did to her that night," I stated, offering my father a gentle smile. "I want her to return and take care of my children."
Most of the suffering traced back to that night. I had felt humiliated, disgusted, and unsafe. It was when I began to resent everyone around , except my children. They were victims too, tied to pain they never deserved.
I did not see the sa concern reflected on my father’s face.
"What is it?" I asked him. "Tell ."
He leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath.
"Scarlett should never be around your children," he replied.
That was all he said, but it was enough to make my attention sharpen.
"She should stay where she is before she is presented before you," his words confused even more.
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