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.

anticipation of sharing my achievement with Mom driving me forward. Our small, cream-colored house stood proudly

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

check. I often remembered overhearing arguments between them, often with

me. The familiar hum of the TV was missing,

called out, dropping

No reply.

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

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

a deep breath, I pushed it open. I immediately wished

her once radiant face devoid of the joy I so associated with her. My vision blurred, my throat constricting with a pain I had

me. “Mom!” I cried out, rushing to her side, hoping

of the memory had me practically gasping for breath, my hands

brought me back to the present. “She… she took her own life,” I managed to whisper, the weight of the words feeling like a boulder

eyes misted

up a hand, stopping her.

to keep talking. I had never opened up like this about my mother, or about anything for that

murmured, leaning back a little

took a deep breath. “The funeral was… a haze. But what I can never forget was my father’s behavior. He seemed almost… indifferent. Cold,” Ella leaned closer, her voice soft. “That’s… that’s hard to imagine.

chuckled bitterly. “You’re telling

belonged to 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

filled the space between us. Ella reached out, touching the delicate engravings. “May 1?” she

box in her palm. I watched as she carefully turned it over in her hand, inspecting the pattern and listening to the faint song that played