Chapter 13 Now if you will,
Dahlia
I was probably leaving in a week.
In just about a week, I would have nothing to do with the Brooks, their name or their family.
In a week, I would have a different surname attached to my name.
So, realistically, giving the room to Sofia meant nothing to me. It was just for a few days. I could survive living in a guest room. But, I was so bitter that I wanted to tear her to shreds, let alone allowing her to have my room.
" No. I am not giving her my room!" I snapped, unmasked anger evident in my voice, and I guess it caught them all by surprise, especially my father, who understood me the most, he looked like he was staring at a stranger. My whole life, I had been soft spoken, not easy to bully, but not loud, just gentle and warm.
To have snapped at him, I guess that was a shocker. But at that moment, did I even care? I was soon cutting ties with him, after all. A little friction here and there would make it easier to let go, no?
" Where did she even crawl from? She can go back there, or, better still, go back to the man responsible for the pregnancy. " I added, casually, as I took another stair, and my movements were slow and uncoordinated, my body still weak from the shock.
" Dahlia Brooks!" My father snapped, visibly seething in anger, and as I listened to him, a cold snort escaped past my lips.
Dahlia Brooks? Fine. But it was not going to last for too long. Soon I would be Dahlia Banks. It was just a matter of days.
" I have indulged you too much, haven't I?" He asked, his voice trembling with fury.
" Come back here!" He commanded, and I went downstairs, not because I was intimidated by him, but because I wanted to see for myself just how far he was willing to stoop.
As I ascended, the smug satisfaction that painted his face wasn't invisible to me. I guess he was thrilled to know that he still had control over me.
" You will give your room to your sister, end of discussion. " He commanded, his tone leaving no room for discussion, and I simply sneered.
" Dahlia? Don't be too uptight. We are sisters after all. You wouldn't want me to suffer, would you?" Sofia wore a saccharine smile as she spoke and I was so disgusted that bile rose to my throat, especially when images of her fcking Jason crossed my mind.
To think that she had the guts to talk to me, to even call me sister!
"I know this is a big inconvenience to you, especially since you have been staying in that room for years." Her voice was light as she spoke, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, and she effortlessly painted the classical victim face, prompting hearts to ache on her behalf.
What an actress! She knew it was an inconvenience and yet, she still asked. What exactly was she trying to say? Well, my dumb father could fall for her act but not me.
" It's... It's just that I am pregnant. Otherwise, I wouldn't have asked. If you are unwilling, I understand. It is your room, after all." She explained, by then, tears were already breaking dams in her eyes, and looking at her, you wouldn't fail to sympathise with her. And just like I expected, my father took the bait, his voice trembling with rage as he turned to face me.
" See? Sofia is very sensible, unlike you. If you were half as kind as she is, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. " He berated, his gaze softening as he patted Sofia's shoulders, reassuringly.
" It's precisely because she has been in that room her entire life that she has to give it to you, Sofia. For years, she has lived a life of luxury while you suffered with your mother. " He went on, and all the while, I remained composed as I listened, it was like they weren't talking about me.
" It's just a room, Dahlia. You will move out and give it to your sister." He added, casually, like the topic wasn't even worth discussion in his eyes.
Well, no matter how hard I was trying to be strong, to tell myself it didn't matter, my practised nonchalance failed me and the corners of my eyes stung as I repeated his words.
' It's just a room.' I couldn't believe that those words had come from him. Because in my heart, it was not just a room.
It held my most loving memories when I was growing up.
Back then, my parents were still together, and even after so many years, I could remember how they used to read me bedtime stories, tuck me in, and kiss my forehead before they went to their room.
But most notably, it was the memory of my father painting that room. Brush after brush, painted with love and warmth.
I was around ten back then. I had come home in low spirits after another child broke my Disneyland-themed flask and to lift my mood, my father had offered to repaint my room.
It used to be painted white, but he had suggested pink for a change. I had sat in a corner, observing him whole chatting endlessly as he painted, decorated and transformed everything into a fairytale-like dream room, with snaking lights that blinked pink when the lights were off.
It was beautiful and I fell in love with it instantly, but, most importantly, I fell deeply in love with my father.
He could have paid others to do it, but he chose to do it instead. That action touched me to tears and years later, the warm memories still stayed in my heart.
At the end, he had even hung a small wooden board at the door with the words " My little princess' room' blinking white and pink, endlessly.
For years, going back to my beautiful room had been one of the things that I had looked up to and even as I grew old, I wanted to change nothing.
Even when I was planning my marriage with Jason, I had been unwilling to move out of my room, deep down, a part of me had been tempted to tell him to move into our home instead, all because of my room and the memories it carried.
But now, my father, the sole character in those warm memories stood before me, saying that it was just a room.
How could I not be hurt? How could I keep my composure while my heart was breaking inwardly?
First, Jason, and second my father.
Was I that easy to replace?
" Well, this house is technically in my name. It is mine."
" She can either sleep in the guest rooms, or, if your little family of three is dissatisfied, you can all move out." Swallowing all the bitterness, I wore a mocking smile as I suggested, and their features darkened.
Just then, my phone rang, and glancing at the caller ID, a small, almost knowing smile found its way to my lips.
" The choice is yours. "
"Now if you will excuse me."
"I still need to answer this. "