CH 2 - Aria
1353 Words
ARIA POV
Jasper never came back.
At first, I told myself he would.
That he was just taking a moment, that Chloe was emotional, that this was pack business and he’d explain later. I kept glancing at the door, my smile growing stiffer with every passing minute.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Twenty.
Each second cracked something inside my chest.
People slowly stopped pretending to care. Conversations drifted back to food, to wine, to deals. Laughter rose again, louder now, relieved. Someone complimented the dessert. Another asked for the recipe.
I nodded. I smiled. I answered automatically.
My eyes kept searching for him.
When I noticed Ella rubbing her eyes and Owen swaying on his feet, exhaustion finally overpowering curiosity, I knew I couldn’t keep them there any longer. They didn’t belong in a room thick with gossip and false cheer.
“I’m going to take the kids upstairs,” I told the nearest guest politely. “Please enjoy the rest of the evening.”
No one tried to stop me.
I took Ella and Owen by the hand and walked toward the eastern wing of the packhouse, where our apartment was. The corridor felt colder than usual, quieter, the noise of the banquet muffled behind heavy doors.
Owen shuffled beside me like a little zombie, his grip loose, his head nodding forward every few steps. Ella walked straight, too straight, her small fingers clutching mine tightly.
We were almost at the stairs when she spoke.
“Mommy,” she said softly. “Who was that woman?”
My stomach twisted so sharply it almost hurt.
Ella had always been too smart for her age. Too observant. She noticed things adults tried to hide, stored them away quietly, and waited.
She deserved an answer.
But the truth was—I didn’t have one.
Her eyes were Jasper’s eyes. The same cold color, the same focus. And she was looking at me like I was the one who had to make sense of him.
If I hadn’t heard the whispers, I would’ve been in the dark too. Jasper hadn’t spared me a glance before disappearing with Chloe. Not a word. Not a signal. Nothing.
I forced a smile onto my lips, one I hoped looked reassuring.
“I don’t know, sweet girl,” I said gently. “Maybe… maybe she’s an old friend of Daddy’s.”
The lie tasted bitter.
Ella stopped walking.
She turned to look at me, her big eyes sharp and searching. She didn’t say anything. She just hummed softly, skeptical, unconvinced.
That sound broke my heart more than tears would have.
When we reached our apartment, the lights were already on.
My steps slowed.
I heard voices.
Chloe’s sobs reached me first.
I stepped inside—and froze.
Jasper stood near the couch, one hand on Chloe’s back, his posture tense but familiar.
The same hand. The same placement. The same slow, grounding pressure he used when I cried. Chloe sat close to him, her long blond hair falling forward like a curtain, her full lips trembling as tears slid down her cheeks. Her brown eyes were red, glassy, wide with vulnerability.
She looked fragile.
Too fragile.
Jasper turned when he noticed me.
He spared me a glance that split my heart in half.
His shoulders stayed angled toward her. His hand didn’t leave her back.
He looked at me like I’d interrupted something important, his icy eyes flicking briefly over the children before settling back on Chloe.
“Chloe will be staying here,” he said immediately. No hesitation. No discussion. “She needs time to adjust.”
I waited for him to say *with us*.
He didn’t.
I waited for him to look at the children.
He didn’t.
Owen leaned against my leg, half asleep. Ella’s fingers dug into my palm.
“How long?” I asked quietly.
Jasper frowned, as if the question annoyed him. “For now.”
For now.
I nodded once.
“I’m going to run the kids a bath and put them to bed,” I said. My voice sounded calm. Detached. “They’re exhausted.”
“Aria—” he started.
I was already turning away.
I didn’t trust myself to stay. I needed distance. Physical distance. Emotional distance. Anything to stop the ache spreading.
The bathroom filled with steam as I ran the water. Owen perked up slightly at the promise of warmth, but the moment he sank into the tub, his eyes fluttered shut.
As expected.
Ella sat stiffly beside him, knees pulled to her chest, her usual brightness dulled. Dark clouds hovered behind her eyes.
I knelt beside the tub and brushed her hair back gently.
“Hey,” I murmured. “It’s okay.”
She didn’t answer.
Inside me, Kara stirred.
‘Let me help,’ she urged softly.
I allowed her forward just enough. The air shifted subtly, warmth radiating from me, my presence steady and soothing. Ella’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.
I smiled faintly.
Owen was fast asleep within minutes.
I was wrapping him in a towel when Chloe appeared in the doorway.
She looked different up close. Too perfect. Long blond hair dampened at the ends, clinging to her shoulders. Lips still swollen from crying. Her eyes flicked briefly to Ella before returning to me.
“Do you want help?” she asked, wiping her eyes. Her voice was too sweet. Too careful.
Before I could answer, Ella shook her head sharply.
“No.”
Chloe paused, her smile tightening just slightly.
“I can help you out of the tub,” she said, already stepping closer.
“No,” Ella repeated, louder this time, fear threading through her voice.
I didn’t blame her.
Chloe was a stranger. Until tonight, she hadn’t existed in Ella’s world. No one had prepared her. No one had explained why this woman was suddenly here.
I laid Owen down on the bench and pulled his pajamas on gently.
“I’ve got it,” I said, keeping my tone polite, controlled. “You don’t need to worry.”
Chloe’s lips curved into something thin and sharp.
Then she reached for Ella.
Her fingers closed around my daughter’s shoulders, tight, insistent.
Ella flinched.
“Let go,” Ella said, panic creeping into her voice.
“Let my daughter go,” I said sharply.
The words came out before I could stop them.
Because she was my daughter.
I had fed her, comforted her, held her through nightmares. I had been there for every fever, every tear, every laugh.
A strangled sound escaped Chloe’s throat.
“She’s not your daughter,” she hissed.
Something ugly surfaced in her eyes. The fragile act shattered completely, leaving something cold and possessive behind.
“I am !” Ella screamed.
She wrenched herself free, panic lending her strength—but she slipped.
Her head struck the side of the tub with a sickening crack.
Blood.
Owen woke up screaming.
Ella cried out, clutching her head, red seeping through her fingers.
My heart stopped.
Jasper burst into the bathroom.
Chloe released Ella instantly and collapsed backward, sobbing. “She attacked me,” she cried, covering her face.
Jasper didn’t even look at Ella.
Blood was on her temple. He didn’t even check on his own bleeding daughter.
“What did you do?” he demanded, turning on me, his voice sharp, accusing.
What the f**k?!
“She grabbed her,” I said, already kneeling, pressing a towel to Ella’s wound. My hands were shaking now. “She scared her—”
“That’s a lie,” he snapped.
Ella tried to speak through sobs. “Daddy, she—”
“Enough,” Jasper cut her off.
He didn’t look at her. Not once.
“You’re lying,” he said coldly. “Aria taught you to lie.”
His words hit like a slap.
Something inside me broke completely.
I didn’t argue.
I didn’t scream.
I focused on Ella, on Owen clinging to my leg, on the blood soaking into the towel.
I held my children and stayed silent.
Because someone had to protect them.
And it clearly wasn’t him.
- Writer
