His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 318 Pity

Logan

As Ella posed her question, the dim lighting in the bar cast shadows that seemed to stretch out indefinitely, swallowing the other patrons in a blurry distance.

The hushed jazz, an ever-present undertone, seemed to recede, leaving just the two of us in a world of our own. She waited with that unwavering look of gentle anticipation, clearly wanting the truth.

“The truth is,” I said, my finger running along the rim of my glass, “I don’t really know what happened to her.”

Ella was silent for a moment. When I glanced up at her, I saw that she was shooting me a confused look. Her head was cocked to the side, her almost-white hair, loosened from its tight bun and now cascading over her shoulders, falling into her eye.

I couldn’t decide whether she looked more beautiful now or when she was working so passionately in court. I looked away, swallowing before she could sense the heat creeping into my face.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Was it an accident, or…?”

I shook my head. “You really want to know?” I questioned, my voice betraying a hint of vulnerability. She nodded. “Only if you’re willing to share, that is.”

A weight settled in my chest, and for a moment, I contemplated brushing it off with a light- hearted remark. But there was something about her, about the ambiance of the night, that made me think it might be time to share the heavy secret I’d carried for years.

Taking a deep breath, I said, “It was a Tuesday.”

Suddenly, the bar faded, and I was back in our old house…

The sun cast a golden hue over the neighborhood as I made my way home, the excitement of acing my math test bubbling up inside me.

Our small, cream-colored house stood proudly at the end of the lane,

really taking off. We always had money, more money than my classmates, but our life

overhearing arguments between them, often with her telling him that she didn’t want

unsettling quietness greeted me. The familiar hum of the TV was missing, and the savory aroma of mom’s

out, dropping my

No reply.

around my heart. I climbed the wooden stairs, their creaks sounding more pronounced

Something in me sensed that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck raised,

pushed it open. I

me to my knees. There she was, lifeless, her once radiant face devoid of the joy

out, rushing to her side, hoping against hope that

memory had me practically gasping for breath, my hands

present. “She… she took her own life,” I managed to whisper, the weight of the words feeling like a boulder on my chest. “Cut her wrists. That was the first time I realized just how much blood can be hiding away

misted over.

a hand, stopping her. “That’s not the

never opened up like this about my mother, or about anything for that matter, to anyone. But the need to unburden, to share the darkness that had

she murmured, leaning back a

forget was my father’s behavior. He seemed almost… indifferent. Cold,” Ella leaned closer, her voice soft. “That’s… that’s hard to

bitterly. “You’re

fingers unconsciously traced the outline of the tiny music box in my pocket. “He sold everything that belonged to her. Everything. Except this.” I brought out the music box, its once vibrant colors now faded. It was

melody filled the space between us. Ella reached

hesitantly, placing the little music box in her palm. I watched as she carefully turned it over in her hand, inspecting the pattern and listening to