Chapter 61 Threads Of The Past

Chapter 61 Threads Of The Past
INDIE

West reached for our daughter right away.

"Lila," he said, his voice cracking.

I stiffened instinctively, my grip tightening around her small, burning body. My protective instincts screamed at me to stop him. But then I saw his hands. They were shaking badly.

It looked as though he was barely holding himself together.

So, I hesitated.

West took her carefully, as if she might shatter if he moved too fast. His arms wrapped around her with a kind of desperate gentleness that made something uncomfortable twist in my chest.

Up close, he looked worse than I'd thought.

He was both gaunt and hollow.

His skin was dull, his eyes sunken like he hadn't slept in days, maybe longer. His beard had grown out and his clothes were wrinkled.

He looked... ruined.

"Lila," he whispered again, cradling her close, his voice trembling. "Hey, baby... it's Daddy. Come on... wake up for me, yeah?"

I watched him, wary, ready to snatch her back at the first wrong move.

For a long second, nothing happened.

Then, Lila stirred. A small, weak sound left her lips, her fingers twitching against his shirt.

West sucked in a sharp breath.

"Yeah, that's it," he cooed, his voice shaking harder now. "That's my girl. Come on..."

Her lashes fluttered. Slowly, her eyes cracked open.

"Daddy...?" she whispered, her voice faint and confused.

Relief hit him so hard I saw it physically knock through him.

"Yeah," he breathed, letting out a sound strongly similar to a sob. "Yeah, baby. I'm here."

Lila's face lit up weakly, a small, tired smile pulling at her lips.

"You came..."

"I missed you," he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

My chest tightened.

I hated how she melted into him. Suddenly, I felt even more uneasy and uncomfortable.

West lowered himself slowly to sit on the ground by the gate, still holding her, rocking her gently. The sight was eerily familiar. He used to rock her like that when she was born.

I crossed my arms, swallowing past the lump in my throat.

"What are you doing?" I asked, not bothering to hide my growing annoyance.

He didn't look at me.

"I'm holding my daughter," he said softly.

Damn him.

"Fine."

If that was how he wanted to play it, fine.

I turned, ready to walk away and put some distance between us before this turned into something messy.

But I didn't go far. His hand shot out and grabbed mine.

I froze.

His grip wasn't tight. But it was desperate, trembling so hard.

"Indie... wait."

My entire body tensed.

Slowly, I looked down at where his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

"I don't have time for this," I said coldly. "Say what you want or let go."

He swallowed hard.

"I need to tell you something," he croaked. "Something I should've told you a long time ago."

A familiar sense of dread crept up my spine.

"No," I said immediately. "Whatever this is—"

"Please," the word was nearly a whimper.

It startled me.

"...Talk," I said.

He let out a shaky breath, as if he'd been holding it in for years. Then he finally looked at me.

There was something in his eyes I didn't recognize. The usual arrogance and anger were gone. In fact, he looked broken.

"I have a mental disorder," he said.

I blinked.

"What?"

He laughed weakly, but there was no humour in it.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Not exactly the kind of thing you randomly drop like this."

My stomach sank.

"What are you talking about, West?"

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, his other arm tightening protectively around Lila.

"I mean," he said slowly, "that the man you knew... the one you hated... the one who hurt you..."

His voice cracked.

"...wasn't always me."

Silence crashed between us. I stared at him in utter disbelief. Every instinct in me screamed that this was manipulation. Another lie. Another twisted excuse.

But the expression on his face... didn't quite match the man I remembered.

"I only just... came back," he admitted hoarsely. "I resurfaced a few days ago."

My pulse spiked.

"What do you mean resurfaced?" I demanded.

His jaw tightened.

"Someone else has been... in control," he said. "Most of the time."

My fingers curled slowly into fists, my mind reeling.

"No," I said, my voice shaking. "No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to rewrite everything with some convenient—"

"I'm not asking you to forgive me," he cut in, his voice hoarse. "I'm asking you to listen."

Lila shifted weakly in his arms, her small hand clutching his shirt. He looked down at her like she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart completely.

Then he looked back at me.

"There are things happening that you don't understand," he said. "Things involving my mother... and what she's done."

Chills slid down my spine.

"And if I don't tell you now..." his voice lowered, trembling with fear, "...it might be too late."

I stared at him, my heart pounding hard in my chest.

I desperately wanted to walk away. To protect myself. To protect Zade. But Lila was still in his arms.

"I wasn't always... like that," he croaked. "I wasn’t cold and cruel, you know that. The way I treated you—"

A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

"Don't," I cut in. "Don't sit there and act like you don't remember."

"I remember."

I stiffened.

"I remember everything," he said. "That's the problem."

My chest tightened.

West adjusted Lila in his arms, his hand trembling as he brushed her curls back from her burning forehead.

"The thought of her brought me back," he whispered.

"Back from where?" I demanded.

His jaw flexed.

"I can’t explain it. It feels like it’s all in my head."

My spine went rigid.

"He’s… gone?" I asked, and he sighed.

"Call him whatever you want," he said. "The other half. The part my mother... preferred. He’s still lurking though.”

Goosebumps spread over my skin.

"You're not making sense."

"I wasn't supposed to remember," he continued, ignoring my words. "At first, it was just hours. Gaps. Then days. Then weeks."

His fingers tightened slightly in Lila's blanket.

"And every time I came back... my condition was worse."

I didn't like where this was going.

"What kind of worse?" I asked, my voice low.

His gaze lowered, as though he couldn't quite hold mine anymore.

"I grew more violent and impulsive," he said.

My pulse picked up.

"There were fights. Blood. People I hurt because he decided they deserved it."

"He?" I pressed again.

West nodded.

"He didn't like you," he said.

I went still.

"What?"

"He hated what you did to me," West clarified. "Hated that I cared. That I was constantly a mess. That I chose you."

My chest tightened.

"So he punished you for it."

"No," I said immediately, shaking my head. "No. That's not—"

"I remember it," he cut in. "Every time."

My breath hitched.

"Every word. Every look. Every time you cried and I..." His voice broke. "...wasn't there."

I didn't want to believe this. Or even consider it.

"You expect me to just accept that?" I asked, but my voice had lost its menace.

"I don't expect anything from you," he said. "Not anymore."

That should've made this easier. It didn't.

"Then why now?" I demanded. "Why tell me this now?"

"My mother..." he started.

Something in the way he said it made my chest drop.

"She knew," he said. "About the splitting. From the beginning.”

His mouth twitched faintly.

"She fed it. Trained it. Encouraged the worst parts until they became a part of me."

My throat went dry.

"Why?" I whispered.

"Because I wasn't enough," he said.

The words hit me harder than anything else he'd said so far.

"After Lila was born... after you almost died during childbirth..." His breath hitched. "I couldn't handle it. The fear. The pressure. Failing both of you."

His eyes bore into mine.

"And something inside of me... broke."

I couldn't breathe.

"Everything I couldn't face?" he said. "It split. Became something that didn't hesitate. Didn't feel. Didn't love."

A tear slipped down his cheek.

"And my mother made sure that part survived."

It felt like I was standing on sinking sand. He was depressed after Lila’s birth? Why didn’t I know that?

West dragged in a shaky breath.

"There's something else," he said. "It’s about Lila."

My entire body went rigid.

"What about her?"

His hand trembled harder against her back.

"My mother did something to her. She told me there was an antidote.”

West lifted his eyes to mine.

"But…she never told me where it was.”

Ice flooded my veins.

"West, what are you talking about? Why didn’t she tell you—”

“She’s dead, Indie. My mother is dead. I need you to come with me to find the antidote. I don’t feel well enough. But you can find it. I know you can.”