58__Empath

The next morning, Amelia woke up warm.

Her eyes cracked open and the first thing she realized was that she was covered by a blanket.

Slowly raising her aching head, she looked down at the pillow that had been beneath her head.

A low groan came up her throat when her muscles ached, stretching as she sat upright.

In mild confusion, she looked around at the papers scattered about the floor around her.

The full memory of last night flooded into her mind and she went still, her mouth opening on silent, sad realization.

Oh, no. Marc.

Looking at the blanket and pillow, she realized that he must’ve come in at some point after she’d fallen asleep.

He’d covered her with a blanket and had put a pillow under her head, even after she’d been so cruel to him.

Her swollen eyes prickled with tears again and she swallowed hard, holding them back.

With a sigh, she pushed herself off the floor and made her way to the door.

The house was quiet and Amelia was beginning to suspect that she was all alone, but then she peeked in the kitchen and paused.

There was Marc, smiling at James who sat on the kitchen island as they conversed in hushed tones.

James held a cup of orange juice in his right hand, counting off on the fingers of his left as he explained something to his father.

They looked so at peace and happy, she felt her heart both swell with affection and crumble with guilt. Marc was such an amazing human. How could he have survived so much pain?

Her eyes were flooded with tears again and she stretched out the sleeve of her jersey, using it to wipe her eyes.

Marc was lowering James from the kitchen island when he noticed Amelia.

Blinking, he straightened. “Oh.” She saw his expression darken and he turned his gaze away from her face again. “Good morning.”

James spun around and smiled brightly when he saw her. “Hello, mummy. Want some breakfast? Daddy made pancakes.”

She gave James a weak, teary smile, standing nervously in the doorway. “Maybe later…”

He went back to drinking his juice and her gaze returned to Marc.

Looking at him was so hard to do, she wanted to weep. She knew he was probably cross with her and she wouldn’t be surprised if he'd changed his mind about marrying her, but she couldn’t stop herself. With eyes swimming in tears, she made her way slowly across the kitchen.

Marc saw her approach in his peripheral vision but didn’t look at her. She’d read it all, he’d seen the papers scattered on the floor of his bedroom. An old nervous tic reawakened, making his fingers twitch as they clutched the kitchen island.

What would she think of him now? He didn’t know what to expect, but one thing he knew for certain was that the marriage idea was off the table. She would never marry him now, whether for the inexplicable feelings she awakened in him or even for the sake of science. She wouldn’t marry someone like him. He swallowed hard, waiting for whatever she’d say.

She didn’t say anything. He didn’t hear a single word and, as Amelia walked towards him, the last thing Marc expected was that she would wrap her arms around him.

He was frozen still, his gaze moving agitatedly about as he realized she was hugging him.

He suddenly heard a long and shaky inhale followed by the sound of a soft sob.

A frown gathered Marc’s brows together and he turned his face toward her. “Amelia?”

Was she crying? Why?

She said nothing but shook her head hugging him tighter.

He was mildly alarmed, even more so because he didn’t know her exact reason for crying. There were too many generally accepted reasons to cry for him to guess without looking at her face.

“Amelia.”

“I’m sorry, Marc…” Her hands gripped his shirt tight and he grew even more alarmed. Her tone indicated sadness, misery even.

His hands twitched, wanting to reach up and wrap around her. He used all his might to keep them away from her. She didn’t want to be comforted by him, he couldn’t keep on forcing it on her. She would just think he was pretending again. Acting out some action programmed into his brain.

Flustered, he looked down at James to find the child staring up with wide, blue eyes of sad puzzlement, his cup of juice forgotten in his hand.

“James, do you want to watch some TV? I’ve put on Spider-man in the TV room, go on. I’ll be right there.”

James pouted, slowly retreating. “Mummy? Are you alright?”

Marc smiled to calm him. “She’s going to be okay, don’t worry. Go on to the TV room.”

Nodding, James slowly left the kitchen, his juice held safely between both hands.

When he was gone, Marc looked down at Amelia’s head, hearing her sigh.

“May I ask why you’re crying?”

She was silent for a moment and he patiently waited.

Finally, she sniffled. “I… I read everything. From the police statements to the minutes of your therapy sessions…”

Her breathing got shaky again and he listened to her audible efforts to remain calm.

He frowned curiously. “I assumed as much. That… doesn’t explain why you’re weeping on my chest.”

“Of course, it does. I’m so sorry, Marc. For everything you went through. You didn’t deserve any of it and none of it was your fault.”

He stood still, processing her words. His heartbeat grew unsteady, his chest feeling slightly constricted. She was offering sympathy.

He wasn’t understanding. Why was she offering her sympathy? Hadn’t that been what she wanted? To get into his secrets and find out the hidden things about him? Why was she saddened by his past?

Swallowing hard, he blinked away the unfamiliar moisture that had just attacked his eyeballs. With his hands firmly on her shoulders, he eased her away from him and stepped back, turning his gaze away.

“I thought we agreed to stop pretending,” he murmured. “The pretence of sympathy and comfort, remember?”

A soft huff parted her lips as she stared sadly at him. “Marc…”

“I’m only trying to abide by the rules you’ve created,” he told her. “So, don’t hug me. I don’t like it.”

She was speechless, staring at him in heartbroken shock.

No part of her expression was registered into his mind, however, his eyes still wouldn’t look at her face.

“Well?” he asked, studying the island. “Did you find what you were looking for? How do you plan to use the information?”

She mentally pulled herself up from being crushed at his polite request to not be hugged. “W-what? What do you mean?”

He frowned. “You were snooping about my house from the first night you arrived. Weren’t you trying to find out whatever ugly secrets Marc Aryan keeps hidden? Why else would you try to search my safe?”

She looked puzzled, shaking her head. “No, I… I wasn’t.”

“I’m not sure what you were looking for, but I’m sure you found it in that safe. There were priceless jewels in there, if money was what you were after, and there were the records of my upbringing too, if you were after my secrets.” He didn’t move an inch, speaking in a tone so flat, Amelia couldn’t detect an ounce of emotion.

“Marc, I wasn’t after your secrets,” she told him. “I cried my eyes out all night, you think I’ve been trying to find that information? To do what with? I’ve never read anything more disturbing in my life.”

His jaw tightened, his throat muscles working as he swallowed. “Yes. It is disturbing, isn’t it? I watched my mother die and I didn’t help her. I know how monstrous that is, I’ve heard it all before. What are you going to do with that information? Sell it?”

“Marc.” Her eyes were filled with tears again. “I’m not selling that information, why would you say that?!”

“Because you’ve been searching my house, Amelia. Last night you said you couldn’t possibly marry someone like me, almost like you knew all about my past. I’m not angry about what you said about me and my condition. I’m not cross with you, quite the contrary. I’m embarrassed to have gotten so carried away, I thought you would consider me—”

“Stop it.” Tear drops were dripping off her chin. “Stop saying that, stop speaking like you’re not good enough. You’re more than good enough, more than worth all the love you could ever get.”

He scoffed and pulled open a cupboard, getting a glass.

She watched him fill it with water. “Don’t *scoff.* I’m being serious, Marc. I’m the one who’s sorry, I was horrible last night. I… I wasn’t thinking straight when I made that tea. I never should’ve made it, I don’t know what came over me. I’m seriously, deeply sorry, Marc. Reading the stuff in your safe made me realize how much you’ve been through—”

“Once more, I’m hearing what sounds like comfort,” he murmured. “Again… we agreed to stop doing that.”

She marched over and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her tear-streaked face against his back. “What do I have to do? What do I have to say to make you believe I’m sorry, Marc? All I did was cry last night when I read those records. My heartbreak is real, my empathy’s real, I’m not pretending!”

“Don’t comfort me,” he muttered through clenched teeth. “I don’t want it. Just tell me what you plan to do with the information—”

“No!” Her arms tightened around him. ‘I’m going to comfort you. Reject it as much as you like, but I’m not going to stop. I deserve it, after what I said to you yesterday. I’m sorry, Marc, I... I don’t know what else to say...”

She was crying again.

Again, his fingers twitched. It frustrated him so much. Even after everything, he still had to fight the urge to hold her. He wanted so badly to turn around and wrap her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her soft, pink cheek and wipe her tears.

He turned his face to the ceiling, sighing. “Amelia, I’m going to need you to stop crying.”

She pressed her lips together but couldn’t stop the sound of her sobs. “I… c-can’t. I just keep thinking of it. It’s just so fucked up. You were a kid and they called that treatment. That was torture! It wasn’t t-treatment!”

Her voice belted out in frustration and pain, he picked up on those emotions immediately and couldn’t stop himself from turning around.

He engulfed her in his arms. Her crying was drowned out by his chest and he tightened his arms around her, stroking her hair.

The sound of it was enough to shatter a heart of stone, he hated the way it made him feel inside. The feeling was dark and heavy, weighing down his heart and making his gut feel twisted.

He slowly understood and was awed by the fact that she was crying for him. She was in pain for him and it broke his heart.

“Why would you cry?” he said softly, rocking her like he’d learnt to do when James was born. “Why would you cry this way? It’s all in the past.”

“B-but still…” She could barely speak. “You must’ve been in so much pain. I wanna *kill* John Aryan!”

He scoffed, surprised to feel his mouth curve at those words.

“It’s alright, love. It’s okay. Don’t cry.” She clung to him as she sniffled and he held her like he’d never let go.

A sudden trickling feeling irritated his skin and he reached up, swiping a finger over his cheek.

It came away wet. In puzzlement, Marc stared down at the moisture on his fingers. Reaching up, he wiped his cheek again and immediately felt another trickle down his cheek.

“Amelia…” He was staring at his fingers in awe.

“Huh?” Pulling away, she looked up at him. “Oh, no.” She dragged down the sleeves of her jersey and, reaching up to his face, dabbed away his tears. “I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

He blinked. “I never really did that before. Cry.”

She sniffled. “Really?”

He nodded.

She took one of his hands, holding it between hers. He finally looking at her again. “That’s okay, some people don’t cry much.”

He looked surprised. “I’m not sure why I’m crying. This is odd, I want it to stop.”

“It’s n-normal.” Still, sniffling, she fought to control her tears as she wiped his away. “I also cry when I see others cry.”

He stared at her. “I’m crying because you’re crying? That’s called empathy.”

She smiled sadly, nodding. “Yes, empathy. The most humane emotion to ever exist. It means you have the highest form of compassion.”

“But I… This is new.”

She studied his face. “Really? You’ve never felt sad at someone else’s pain?”

“I’ve barely felt sad at my own pain, not to mention that of others.”

She slowly exhaled, looking at him in determination. “Marc, I think you were right.”

He gingerly wiped at the bizarre streaks of moisture on his face. “About what?”

“About us.”

He stared at her. “No, I wasn’t.”

“Marc—”

“I wasn’t. Just forget I ever suggested it—”

“No. You might be right, being with me may have helped you grow used to accessing your own feelings. I’m sorry I was too idiotic to look past my own agenda last night, I’m sorry I hurt you with the words I said. Now, I’m ready to do it.”

He seemed mildly alarmed. “Ready to do what?”

“To marry you. I’ll marry you. Forget four months, Marc. For however long you need me… I’ll stay with you.”

It didn’t matter anymore if being with him put her in danger of growing feelings, she didn’t care if it delayed her plans for revenge. She wanted to give Marc Aryan everything she could, whilst she could.

This cruel world had given him so much pain, Amelia would make up for it. Even if it cost her.