Chapter 147
Chapter 147
"Why did I let myself come back here?" Bernice grumbled to herself as she entered the big kitchen. She had hoped for peace, but it seemed the familiar view had walked her right into memories. She ran her fingers over the cool marble countertop; the texture kept her present, but her mind wandered into the recesses of time.
"Madam Bernice," a voice, by now so familiar, called from across the room.
Bernice froze. Her heart pounding in her chest, she swerved, and her eyes caught with Madam Alice's, who was standing by the stove, cleaning her hands with a dish towel, something like a smile in her eyes as though it had been years that that kitchen had only known laughter and talks that run to the dawn of daylight.
"Madam Alice," Bernice whispered in shock, her voice sad and longing.
"I rather hoped you'd find your way here," Madam Alice said, further entering the room. "This kitchen always was your haven."
Bernice's lips quivered, but she managed to fake a smile. "I thought a cup of tea might help. Everything feels.overwhelming."
Alice nodded knowingly and waved her onto the large wooden table. "Let me make it for you. You've had enough on your shoulders today."
She sat as the older woman moved with ease, the smell of brewed tea fresh in the air, and for a moment, Bernice let herself unwind.
"It feels like nothing has changed," Bernice whispered, scanning the room. "But everything is different."
"Change is inevitable," Alice replied, pouring the tea. "But some things remain constant. Like how much he cares for you."
Bernice bristled. "I'm not here for Rafael. I'm here for my kids."
Alice set the teacup before her and sat opposite her. "Of course, but you cannot deny that being back here stirs something inside you."
Bernice would not meet Alice's eyes, her gaze drifting into the steaming tea. She would not acknowledge how true those words were.
"I don't want to talk about him," Bernice whispered. "It's too complicated."
Alice leaned over the table and set her hand over Bernice's. "You don't have to say a word. Just remember you're not alone."
It wasn't until then, with no words escaping the seam of Bernice's lips, that an opening door creaked into space and a voice belonging to Rafael filled it: "There you are."
Bernice stiffened; her heartbeat quickened. Mask-like in composure, her eyes turned to him. "I needed a moment."
Rafael's dark eyes darted to Alice, who nodded subtly before she rose. "I'll leave you two to talk," Alice said, gathering her towel and retreating from the room.
In one instant, she was gone, and then the silence really fell between them. Rafael leaned into the counter, his eyes never leaving Bernice's face.
"This kitchen used to be your favorite place," he said in that low husky voice. "I'd find you here at all hours, lost in thought or experimenting with new recipes."
Bernice shrugged energy. "It was just a kitchen."
"It was more than that," Rafael protested. "We created memories here too."
Tears threatened to swell up and choke her, as it always did, but she refused to let it. "That was years ago."
"Does it feel that way?" he pressed, taking a step closer.
Bernice rose, unable to stay under his scrutiny. "Why are you doing this?"
"Do what?"
"Mention the past," she said louder than she'd intended. "What's the point?"
Rafael let out a sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair. "The point is that we've both been pretending the past doesn't matter. But it does. It always will."
"I'm with Alexander now," Bernice said, trying to sound firm, but the words felt like lead in her mouth.
"And do you love him?" The question hung heavy in the air, weighted dangerously.
Bernice's eyes flashed. "That's none of your business."
"It is when I see the way you're struggling," he said, his voice softening. "You're torn, Bernice. And I know why."
Her fists clenched at her sides. "You don't know anything about my life now."
"I know enough," Rafael said, refusing to release his gaze from hers. "I know you haven't let go of us."
The room was closing in on Bernice; she needed to be outside to breathe. Pivoting on her heel, she marched for the door.
"Bernice, wait," Rafael called after her.
She stopped but didn't turn around. "What do you want from me, Rafael?”
"I want you to admit that being here affects you as much as it affects me."
Her shoulders sagged, and she whispered, "It's not that simple."
"I never said it was," he returned in a low tone.
She did not argue further, merely turned and left him there standing in the kitchen.
And so, night found Bernice sleepless in her bed, staring at the ceiling while memories hounded in her heart without repentance. She shut her eyes only to let surges of the long elapsed time gush into her brain.
She remembered how Rafael brought her for the first time to this mansion. He was excited; the contagion of enthusiasm as he gave her a grand tour around the mansion, each room with pride.
"Someday, we’ll fill this place with love and laughter," he had said, pulling her into his arms.
She had believed him then. They had shared a life of dreams and promises, but somewhere along the line, everything fell apart.
The soft knock on the door dragged her from her reverie. "Come in," she called, sitting up.
In came Madam Alice, a tray loaded with tea in her hands. "Thought you might need that."
Bernice could manage little more than a slim smile. "You always do."
Alice set the tray on the beside and sat down beside her. "I've seen you live in this house and know when something is on your mind."
"It's just hard being back here" Bernice admitted, embracing the hot cup with her hands. "Everything feels so over-familiar."
"Rafael?" Alice softly interjected.
Bernice hedged, "He's being sweet, but it gets all confusing, and I wouldn't know how exactly I really feel."
Alice gave her an empathetic look. "The heart often remembers what it has chosen to forget over time."
Bernice curled her fingers around the hot teacup. "I don't want to get into old rhythms. I'm past it."
Alice rose. Her voice came soft: "You are stronger than you think, but don't pretend you're not telling your heart anything."
She sat all by herself in the quiet after Alice had left her, her heart tight with all her doubts.
In his study, Rafael stared at an old photograph of their wedding day. His fingers traced over Bernice's smiling face, and a deep ache settled within his chest.
"She still loves you," Madam Alice had said earlier.
"I hope you’re right," Rafael whispered to himself.
He placed the photograph back on the desk, his determination solidifying. He would win Bernice back, no matter the cost.
He closed his eyes, remembering the way she used to laugh, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. He had taken those moments for granted, but not anymore.
This time, he would fight for her. And he wouldn't lose.