Page 130 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
I looked at her like she was a stubborn stone. "Olivia, what do I have to do for you to trust me again?"
She didn't answer. She lowered her head and kept pushing pasta around her plate.
Suffocating silence stretched between us.
I knew I'd made many mistakes, caused that five-year void between us. I owed her too much. I genuinely wanted to make amends, but facing someone I'd hurt so deeply, I truly didn't know what to do.
Juliet ran back, leaning on Olivia's leg, looking up. "Vivi, that blue fish keeps looking at me!"
Olivia's furrowed brow instantly relaxed, her lips curving slightly. The heavy atmosphere shattered.
I exhaled, almost grateful for Juliet's timing.
"Because it likes you." Olivia set down her fork and lifted her onto her lap. Juliet nestled against her, pointing at the tank, chattering away.
I sat across from them as sunlight passed over me and fell on them.
Something fermented in my chest, and I became absolutely certain of one thing.
No matter how much Olivia hated me, she belonged by my side.
At four p.m., Juliet finally tired. She slumped against Olivia's shoulder, eyelids drooping, still mumbling "wanna play more." Olivia carried her from the rides to the parking lot, arms trembling, but refusing to put Juliet down.
"Let me carry her," I said.
"No need."
"You can't hold her anymore."
"I said no need."
Her voice was hard, but her arms were shaking badly. Juliet was six, not light, and Olivia's wrists were so thin I felt they could snap.
I didn't say more. I walked beside them, using my body to block the wind from the side.
At the car, Olivia placed Juliet in the back seat and buckled her in. Half-asleep, Juliet grabbed her sleeve and wouldn't let go.
"Vivi, will you come tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow. Your teacher has things to do."
"What about the day after?"
Olivia didn't answer. She lowered her head and kissed Juliet's forehead.
"Sleep now," she said. "Next time your teacher comes, show me your new moves."
Juliet murmured agreement, closed her eyes, and slowly released her grip.
Olivia backed out of the car and shut the door. She stood beside it, head down, shoulders shaking.
"Olivia," I said.
She looked up. Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying. Not one tear. That redness was burned in, something pressed down too long finally seeping through.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't mention it." Her voice was flat, stripped of emotion. "I just didn't want to disappoint my daughter."
