A rush of memories hit me of the pure white kitten I had once owned as a child. Back then, the Whitmore family had forbidden pets, and I had been fortunate just to be accepted into their home. The thought of bringing my cat along had never crossed my mind.
Maybe it was the man’s calming presence, his gentle tone, or the kitten’s soft warmth beside me, but for the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t feel the need to ask why I was in this unfamiliar place.
I opened my mouth, ready to speak, but before I could form the words, the man handed me a coat, his movements slow, deliberate, and introduced himself.
"I’ve reached out to you before," the man began, his voice calm and steady. "I’m the head of the American Association at the school you applied to."
"I had an aunt help clean the paint off you."
"This is my house in the country. I don’t come here often, maybe just a few times a year."
"Giselle, I’ve actually known you for a long time."
"My name is Cyrus Hayes, and I knew your father."
"I came to find you at his request. He’s at the school you applied to now."
His words seemed to reach into my mind, pulling out the questions I hadn’t dared ask. Each sentence was a key, unlocking answers I had almost forgotten I was waiting for.
But when he mentioned my father, everything inside me stilled. I was struck silent. It had been so long since I’d heard any news of him.
The figure of my father had faded from my life over a decade ago. If he hadn’t vanished without a trace back then, leaving my mother and me to fend for ourselves, she might never have been so heartbroken that she chose to abandon me and remarry.
For years, I had resented him, but the ache of missing him had never completely disappeared.
What would have happened if he had stayed? Maybe I would have been loved the way I had been as a child without the bitter shadow of abandonment hanging over me. Maybe I wouldn’t have met Cohen. Maybe I wouldn’t have become entangled with the Whitmore family.
The man watched me closely, noticing the rush of conflicting emotions that crossed my face. He sighed softly as if he could see through me.
Carefully, he offered me the cup of water beside him, its warmth grounding me, pulling me out of the cold memories.
"How is he now?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.