Breaking The Fate

Chapter four

I always loved the mornings when my dad would drive us to school. He had this thing about me taking the bus—he couldn't stand it. I can still hear his voice, clear as day: "Why would you take the bus when you've got me?" That was just the kind of person he was. Always present. Always caring.

He wasn't just a great dad; he was the dad. A perfect role model, the gold standard. He set the bar impossibly high, and I always thought to myself, "If I ever get married, I want a husband just like him." But life doesn't exactly follow your plans, does it? Somehow, I ended up with August—a man who couldn't be more different from my father.

To this day, I wonder what my dad saw in August that made him think, Yeah, this guy is good for my daughter. Maybe he convinced himself August was a sweet, kind man—just like him. Maybe he thought opposites attract. Or maybe he just wanted me to be happy, even if that meant letting me make my own mistakes.

Growing up, happiness wasn't hard to find. I was part of a big, loud family—eight siblings in total. Imagine the chaos. It was never quiet, never boring, never peaceful. My two older sisters were calm and composed, like little pillars of order in the madness, but there was a big age gap between us. By the time I was five, they were already married, so I didn't get to know them as well as I knew my brothers.

My brothers were my world, especially Alexander. He was my partner-in-crime, my shadow, my best friend. People used to joke that we must've been twins because we were always together, always stirring up trouble. We'd skip class just for the thrill of it, heading to the little ice cream shop near school. The owner knew us by name and even gave us discounts, probably because we were such frequent visitors.

Those days were golden. I didn't know it then, but they were the kind of moments you'd want to press into a scrapbook if you could, to keep them from slipping through your fingers. If I could go back—just for a day—I'd savor every bit of it. The laughter, the warmth, the simplicity of it all. But life has a way of moving on, and before you know it, everything changes.

It all shifted the day I married August. My world, once so full of color and light, became darker, quieter, heavier. He's not a bad man, but he's nothing like my father. And the truth is, he's driving me insane.

Flashback

"Here, hold this." Alex tossed a ball into my hands, his grin mischievous.

We were supposed to be in class, but that was boring. Instead, we were sneaking around near his classroom, plotting whatever ridiculous scheme he'd come up with this time. According to Alex, his teacher had it out for him—giving pop quizzes and being, in his words, a total jerk.

I frowned, holding the ball cautiously. "What are you going to do with this?"

"Wait and see," he said, his smirk growing wider.

I should've known better. I did know better. But with Alex, it was always worth the risk.

A few minutes later, the ball went flying—and smashed straight through the classroom window. Glass shattered everywhere, and one poor kid got nicked by a shard. Chaos erupted, and before we knew it, both of us were being marched to the principal's office.

We ended up suspended. Alex thought it was hilarious. Me? I wasn't so sure, especially when we had to face Dad and Mom. Dad was furious, and Mom... well, she gave us that look of quiet disappointment that stung even worse than a lecture. But later that night, when the dust had settled, I overheard them talking in the kitchen.

"They're lucky," Dad said, his voice soft. "Not every kid gets to make these kinds of memories."

It stuck with me. Even in his frustration, he found a way to see the good.

Flashback Ends

If only I could've held onto those days a little tighter. I didn't realize back then how fleeting they'd be, or how much I'd miss them. Now, the laughter is gone, the smiles are fewer, and I feel like I'm living in a shadow of what life used to be.

Sometimes, I wonder if I'll ever feel that lightness again. Or if it's all just... gone.

The door swings open, yanking me out of my spiraling thoughts. August strides in like he owns the place—which, technically, he does—but that doesn't make it any less irritating.

"What are you doing?" he asks, his tone dripping with judgment.

I glare at him, my sarcasm kicking in on autopilot. "Oh, you know, just chatting with my family on the phone." I pause for dramatic effect. "Oh, wait! You took my phone, didn't you? So now I've got nothing to do but sit here, alone, trapped in my thoughts. Thanks for that, by the way."

"Good," he says, completely unbothered. "What do you need a phone for?"

And that's it. My blood is officially boiling. "What do you want, August?" I snap, barely holding myself back from unleashing everything I've been bottling up. If he pushes me even a little more, I will say something I'll regret later.

He just shrugs, the picture of indifference. "Get ready," he says, looking me up and down with that irritatingly judgmental gaze. "People are coming over. Try to look more... presentable."

I roll my eyes so hard I'm surprised they don't get stuck. "I don't want to see people," I say flatly, making it clear I have zero intention of playing hostess today.

"You don't have a choice," he retorts, his tone clipped. "My siblings are coming too. You know what to do, don't you?"

Oh, I know exactly what to do, alright. I just don't want to do it. I open my mouth to fire back, but he's already walking out the door, as if he's said all there is to say.

I glare at his retreating figure, my jaw clenched so tightly it hurts. "May you leave and never come back, jerk face," I mutter under my breath once the door clicks shut.

For a moment, I just sit there, seething. Of course he's like this. Why would today be any different? August might wear the crown, but he's no king—not to me, anyway. A king would lead with grace, not control. A king wouldn't rip me away from my family and lock me in this gilded prison.

But this is August we're talking about. And August? He's nothing more than a royal pain.