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.

Mom driving me forward. Our small, cream-colored house stood proudly at the end of the lane, its windows gleaming with the sun’s

father’s ‘business’ really taking off. We always had money, more

my mother who kept my father in check. I often remembered overhearing arguments between them, often with her telling

us to be normal. But as I stepped inside, an unsettling quietness greeted me. The familiar hum of the TV was

called out, dropping my backpack by the

No reply.

second, the grip of unease tightened around my heart. I climbed the wooden stairs, their creaks sounding more pronounced in the deafening

in me sensed that something was wrong. Seriously wrong. The hairs

pushed it open. I immediately wished

radiant face devoid of the joy I so associated

me. “Mom!” I cried out, rushing to her side, hoping against hope that it was

intensity of the memory had me practically gasping for breath,

whisper, the weight of the words feeling like a boulder on my chest. “Cut her wrists. That

eyes misted over.

held up a hand, stopping her. “That’s not the end

up like this about my mother, or about anything for that matter, to anyone. But the need to

she murmured, leaning back a little in

can never forget was my father’s behavior. He seemed almost… indifferent. Cold,” Ella leaned

bitterly. “You’re

her. Everything. Except this.” I brought out the music box, its once vibrant colors now faded. It was tiny, not even the size of my palm. Its ornate design was

melody filled the space between us.

carefully turned it over in her hand, inspecting the pattern