Chapter 75 Flashback

Chapter 75 Flashback
Milie's POV

Nine Years Earlier

Sunday dinners at Grandpa's house happened almost every week.

Or at least… Everyone tried to make them happen.

Grandpa was my real grandfather. Grandma wasn't.

She was Dad's stepmother. Nobody ever explained to me what that meant.

I only knew one thing. Kelly and Brad belonged to her. I never really did.

Kelly was only a year older than me. She wore pretty dresses. Her hair was always perfectly braided.

She never seemed to get dirty. Brad was younger than both of us.

Grandma adored them. She hugged them, praised them, spoiled them.

Whenever she looked at me, she always seemed to find something that needed fixing.

Sometimes it was my clothes, sometimes my manners, and sometimes… Just me.

Mom hated it. Every visit ended with at least one argument.

Dad always tried to keep the peace, but that Sunday, he couldn't. 

I had spent the entire afternoon outside chasing butterflies and climbing the big oak tree behind Grandpa's house.

By the time Mom called, "Dinner!" I came running as fast as my little legs could carry me.

I burst through the front door without thinking.

"Mooom! Guess what I—"

"Milie!" Grandma's voice cracked through the house like thunder.

I froze, completely froze. My excitement disappeared instantly.

She pointed toward the polished cream-colored rug. Brown footprints stretched all the way from the entrance.

I looked down. My sneakers were covered in mud. I hadn't even noticed.

"I..." Before I could speak—

"What were you thinking?" Her voice grew louder.

"Look what you've done!"

"I-I'm sorry, grand—"

"Sorry?" She got infuriated to another level. "You're nine years old."

"How do you still not know that shoes stay outside?"

I quickly stepped backward. "I'm sorry..." Tears fell down my eyes. 

Mom immediately walked over. "It's okay." She knelt beside me.

"I'll clean it."

But Grandma wasn't letting it go that easily. "Stop protecting her. Instead teach her something."
"Look at Kelly." Then her eyes returned to me. "And look at your girl."

Kelly stood quietly beside Grandpa in a pale yellow dress. She was spotless and perfect.

Mom's expression changed immediately. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"I'm saying it for her own good."

Grandma crossed her arms. "Kelly behaves like a young lady."

"Milie behaves like..." Her eyes traveled over my oversized basketball jersey. My messy ponytail.

"...a little wild animal."

"Mom, what the fuck!! She's a child." Mom rose, enraged.
"So is Kelly." Grandma answered calmly. "But there is a vast difference."

"Kelly knows how to sit properly, knows how to dress, knows how to behave."

Mom's jaw clenched. "My daughter is perfectly fine."

"Is she?"

Grandma asked. "Because every time I see her in this look only." 

I instinctively looked down at myself. My jersey, sneakers, and everything about me felt wrong.

Mom stepped forward. "Enough."

"No." Grandma shook her head. "I'm trying to help. You should be thanking me."

"I'm not changing my daughter just because she doesn't fit your idea of what a girl should be."

Grandma laughed. "Maybe if you raised her more like Kelly..."

"Enough. Everyone." And that was it. Dad finally spoke for the first time.

Grandma ignored him. "I'm only saying—"

"I said enough, Mom." Dad's voice was so loud that everyone in the house froze. 

My heart started racing. I have never ever seen my Dad this loud, this angry. 

I was too scared. Without thinking, I turned around and ran straight into the cottage. 

I curled into the corner, pulling my knees against my chest.

The shouting outside became muffled, but it didn't disappear.

Every raised voice made my heart pound harder.

Every angry word made me feel like it was all my fault.

I buried my face in my knees and cried. But a few minutes later, my Dad entered.

"Princess?"

The moment our eyes met, his shoulders slumped in heartbreak.

He slowly walked over and lowered himself onto the floor beside me.

He didn't say anything at first.

He simply opened his arms, and I crawled into them without thinking.

The second he wrapped me against his chest, I burst into tears all over again.

"I'm sorry..." I sobbed. "I'm so sorry, Daddy." 

His hand moved slowly through my hair. "What are you apologizing for?"

"I made Grandma angry. You and Mom fought because of me."

His embrace tightened. "No, sweetheart."

"It wasn't because of you."

"But..." I looked up at him through blurry eyes. "I wore my shoes inside."

He smiled gently and brushed the tears from my cheeks with his thumb.

"That was a mistake, darling." He tapped my nose. "Muddy shoes can be cleaned. So can rugs."

"But little girls' hearts..." His smile faded just a little. "...are much harder to fix."

I stared at him, still crying, still confused. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"None of what happened out there was your fault."

"But Grandma said—"

"I know what Grandma said."

His voice stayed calm. "But grown-ups aren't always right."

I frowned. "They're not?"

He chuckled softly. "No, they make mistakes too. Big ones."

I rested my head back against his chest.

After a few quiet moments, I whispered the question that had been sitting inside me for months.

"Daddy..."

"Hmm?"

"Why doesn't Grandma love me?"