I'm not a child

Chapter 120: I'm not a child

MIA

I was curled up on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through my phone when I heard the front door open. It was Uncle Greg.

I sat up looking at him. Judging by the way he looked back at me, I had a feeling my dad had already told him everything.

Greg walked into the living room, rubbing his neck, his eyebrows narrowing.

“So,” he said, dropping onto the couch across from me, “you and Ethan, huh?”

I swallowed. “Dad told you.”

He snorted. “Told me? More like ranted for a full hour. I had to remind him to breathe at some point.”

I let out a small, humorless laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Greg leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, Mia, I get it.”

I frowned. “You get it? That's a lie. No one understands me.”

He nodded, sighing heavily. “You’re in love with someone older, someone who’s got baggage, someone who isn’t exactly an easy choice.” He paused. “I’ve been there.”

I blinked. “Wait…what?”

Greg rubbed his jaw, looking like he was debating whether or not to tell me. Then he exhaled. “Years ago, I fell for someone. She was older and married.”

My mouth fell open. “You’re joking.”

He shook his head. “Nope. It was real, it was messy, and it was impossible. And in the end, I didn’t end up with her.”

“That's one of the reasons I settled with having baby mamas and never fell in love with any other woman. Another reason is that women are hard nuts to crack.” He added with a smirk on his face.

I laughed, staring at him, trying to process that my uncle, the same one who always had something sarcastic to say— had been in love with a married woman.

“What happened?” I asked softly.

Greg gave me a sad smile. “I realized that no matter how much I wanted her, it wasn’t enough. She was never going to leave her husband, and even if she did, it would’ve come with so much damage that we both would’ve been miserable.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It broke me for a while, but eventually, I moved on.”

I was quiet for a moment. Then I said, “It’s not the same, you know. Ethan’s not married.”

Greg nodded. “I know. But the whole older-man, complicated-situation, father-is-livid thing? That part is familiar.” He leaned back. “And because I know what it’s like, I’m going to talk to your dad for you.”

I looked at him, surprised. “You will?”

He smirked. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’m not that heartless.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Thank you.”

Greg stood. “Don’t thank me yet. Even though I know why your dad is mad, I mean Ethan is his best friend. But I’ll see what I can do, you know your dad’s the most stubborn man I know.”

I nodded as he headed toward the stairs.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I smell like a bar, and I’d rather not offend my own nose any longer.”

I watched him disappear down the hall, laughing at his comment.

The next morning, I was sitting on my bed, staring at my phone. I needed a distraction then I remembered that I haven't checked in on the gallery.

I scrolled to my assistant’s number and hit the call button.

Ella answered on the second ring. “Mia! Finally, You’ve been MIA.”

I sighed. “Yeah… things have been a little crazy. I see what you did there.”

“You called because you wanted an update right?” She asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Well nothing too big since the last time you were here, just that we got new art pieces which we used for the gallery's current exhibitions, then the upcoming auction, and a few clients who had inquired about private viewings.” She explained.

It felt good to talk about something normal, something that didn’t involve my dad’s anger or my ‘forbidden love life.’

As Ella concluded with the update, I heard footsteps outside my room.

“I have to go,” I told her. “Thanks for the update.”

“No problem. Don’t stay away too long, boss.” She responded and I hung up.

Just then, my door swung open. It was my dad.

I tensed immediately, bracing myself for whatever mood he was in today.

He stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his face unreadable.

I swallowed hard. “Dad…”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut me off.

I flinched. “I just…”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Mia.” He responded, his face reddening.

I sighed, “ but we need to talk about it.”

“See baby, I don’t blame you,” he continued. “You’re a child. It’s Ethan I blame.”

His words stung. “Dad, I’m not a child.”

He ignored me. “He should’ve known better. He does know better.” His jaw clenched. “And yet, he still went after my daughter.”

I exhaled sharply, holding my hands behind my back, gripping onto my wrist. “At least let me go out, even if it’s with bodyguards.”

He was silent for a long time, then finally said, “Fine.”

I blinked. “Wait…seriously?”

“But,” he added, giving me a warning look, “you stay away from Ethan. He's a playboy and he isn't good for you. If I find out you’ve gone anywhere near him. He will end up getting hurt again, it will be your fault.”

I froze. “What?”

His expression didn’t waver. “You heard me.”

A lump formed in my throat. “Dad, that’s not fair.”

He stepped closer. “You want to leave the house? Fine. But you will not see him. Because if you do, and something happens, you will be responsible.”

I stared at him, feeling like I had been punched in the gut.

He was serious. Dead serious.

I clenched my fists. “You’re making it sound like I want him to get hurt.”

His eyes were cold. “Of course you want him to get hurt if you as much as breathe the same air as him.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening.

He turned to leave, but before he walked out, he added, “You can go out, but you’ll never be free if you keep running toward something that’s only going to destroy you.”

With that, he walked out, leaving me standing there, my mind spinning.

I swallowed, my throat dry.

My father was giving me freedom—but why did I still feel trapped?