Chapter 113 Mourning

Chapter 113 Mourning
Two days after the funeral and each second in this house made me feel strange.
As if I was at a guesthouse.
As if I no longer belonged here. 
And the people? Especially their talks.
“Did she come? Didn’t her father disown her?”
“Who wants to live after such a disgrace from the only daughter.”
“Poor soul, he always wanted a son…”
“Look, now she is here when he is gone?”
Now I am here? Did they have any idea I came to make amends but they ended up humiliating my husband?
That I came after my divorce only to be thrown out?
What amends after death huh?
With a never-ending scowl, I stared out the window of the study, watching the grey clouds gather. 
The funeral arrangements sat untouched on the desk behind me. I didn't think I would feel like this.
“I thought I would be relieved.” I whispered into the quiet room, not turning around when I heard the click of the door closing. 
I knew it was Vince. 
“I spent my entire life trying to earn a single scrap of his approval. He neglected me like I was not his own blood, Vince.”  
Taking a pause, my head lowered in dejection, twirling my fingers around my dress.
“He threw me out when I begged for a home. I genuinely believed that if he died, I wouldn't shed a single tear.”
Vince’s footsteps approached  until he was standing just a step behind me. 
“I wanted him gone… I didn’t want to feel that way but… but…”
His hand hovering in the air, wondering whether to touch me to console me or not.
“Alyssa.”
Loosening the tension in my shoulders, I slowly turned to him, a tear glistening in my eye.
“But it feels terrible,” I choked out, the trail of tears rolling down my cheeks, burning my skin.
“It hurts so bad, Vince.” I couldn’t help but to sob miserable, extending my hand to the very man that lied to me.
But then again, who else did I have apart from him?
“Why am I crying for a man who never knew how to be a good father to me? Why do I still want him to show it once that he loved me?” 
My fingers clutched around his shirt, pulling him closer to me, burying my face in his chest as he stood closer, letting me empty my heart.
“Why do I feel horrible that he died without being proud of me once? Why do I want the man who hates me?”
“Because you wanted a father–” Vince said softly.
His hand came up to gently rest against my back, offering a steady, grounded warmth.
“–and he failed to be one.”
He pressed me into him, kissing the top of my head while I continued crying my heart out.
“The tears aren't for the man he was. They're for the father you deserved to have.”
“It's pathetic,” I snapped weakly, pulling my arms around myself.
“It's not,” Vince countered, holding me firmly against him, refusing to let me go. 
“It's the truth. Let it out.”
Later that noon, Vince was with me during dinner, offering me a bite.
“You need to eat something, Alyssa. You haven't touched a single thing…”
Vince set the tray down on the nightstand. 
The scent of warm chicken broth drifted through the bedroom, but my stomach twisted in immediate rejection.
In fact, the smell of it made me nauseous.
“Take it away,” I muttered, keeping my back turned to him as I curled deeper into the blankets. 
“I'm not hungry.”
“I am not asking you,” Vince sighed but his voice had a commanding tone. 
The bed shifted as he sat down on the edge. “Sit up.”
“No.”
“Alyssa, don't test my patience right now,” he warned softly. 
When I didn't move, he reached down, his strong hands sliding under my arms and effortlessly pulling my body up, shattering my resolve.
“Let me go!” I hissed, weakly trying to slap his hands away. 
“I said I don't want it!”
Ignoring my glare entirely, Vince picked up the bowl and filled the spoon. 
He brought it directly to my lips, his dark eyes locking onto mine that stiffened me.
“You can either open your mouth and eat it, or I will hold you down and force-feed you myself.” His gaze darkened, holding me tightly.
“Choose.”
"You're a monster," I whispered, hitting his chest but he couldn’t care less and still offered me a bite.
“I know,” he replied without a single hint of remorse, pushing the spoon slightly closer. “Eat.”
Realizing he wouldn't back down an inch, I reluctantly took the bite. 
Vince didn't say another word, he quietly filled the spoon again, feeding me block by block until the bowl was empty.
After dinner, we were downstairs. I kept the frown on my lips though still feeling nauseous as my mother sat with us.
Her eyes were swollen, red around the edges, clutching her heart.
Vince sat right beside me, his fingers intertwined with mine, his grip tight enough to ensure I won’t disappear.
“I don't know what we're going to do.” Mother whispered. Her voice cracked as she finally looked up at us. 
Her gaze saw our joined hands, and for the first time in my life, I saw a profound sense of relief. 
“He left so much unsettled... but seeing you two together... Vince, I am so grateful you are here with her.”
I looked down, a wave of complicated emotion tightening my throat.
Vince shifted closer to me, his fingers squeezing mine when I tried to pull back.
He looked directly at my mother, giving her a reassuring smile. 
“Do not worry about her,” Vince gave her a nod, sparing me a glance. 
The certainty in his voice returned to me as irony. 
“I am here for Alyssa, and I'm not going anywhere. I will always be there for her.”
Hearing him say those words—the man who had created my ruin acting as my savior—made my heart ache with a repulsive sting.
Yet, despite the truth presented before me.
I couldn't pull my hand away…. even if I wanted to.