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.

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

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

my mother who kept my father in check. I often remembered overhearing arguments between them, often with her telling him that she didn’t want her

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

called out, dropping my backpack

No reply.

I climbed the wooden stairs,

something was wrong. Seriously wrong. The hairs on the back of my neck raised, and I

pushed it open. I immediately

devoid of the joy I so associated with her. My vision blurred, my throat constricting

room spinning around me. “Mom!” I cried out, rushing to her side, hoping against hope that

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

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

eyes misted over.

her. “That’s not

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

back a

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. His

chuckled bitterly. “You’re telling

everything that belonged to her. Everything. Except this.” I brought out the music box, its once vibrant colors now

us. Ella reached

carefully turned it over in