♥ Chapter 8 ♥

Yara Blake.

Saturday.

As I cut up the vegetables for lunch, a mixture of irritation and anxiety began to grow inside me. All I wanted was to spend Saturday alone, organize my things, and mentally prepare myself to start the new job at the Darkmore mansion. But, of course, Ronan couldn't let that happen. He made a point of telling my family about my new job, and now they've decided to come here for lunch without even asking me, as they always do. The stress of running the house wasn't enough, and now I have to face the critical presence of my parents.

Why did he have to tell them? He always does, he seems to get a kick out of seeing how nervous I get. His voice still echoes in my head—that coldness and indifference with which he always treats me. Because I wanted to, Yara. Isn't that obvious? As if that were reason enough to throw myself into situations like this.

I move quickly around the kitchen, trying to do everything at once. The smell of sautéing garlic begins to fill the air as I boil the potatoes. I can't go wrong, I know how my mother is. If the food isn't perfect, she'll scold me in front of everyone, as she always does. And then, as if it were a valid excuse, she'll say it's for my own good. It's always like that. She doesn't realize how much those words hurt me or how I feel afterward.

I'm so focused that when the doorbell rings, my heart leaps. My time is up, and I haven't managed to do everything I wanted to.

“Go answer the door, Yara!” he shouts from the living room, as if I didn't already know that.

He never gets up to answer the door or to do anything for me. I know he hates me, but why does he like to see me suffer like this?

I walk towards the door, open it, and find my parents standing there.

''What a delay, my child.'' My mother begins. ''You know you always have to be quick to open the door for a visitor. Taking so long is rude. '' You've already started with your criticisms.

'' I'm sorry, Mom. I was preparing lunch. '' I give them room to enter.

'' Still preparing lunch? It's already noon, Yara. '' She looked at me seriously. ''That's not the education I gave you.

'' Darling, don't pick on our daughter so much, she has a husband now. He can scold her himself.'' My father said, trying to calm her down.

A husband who hates me and who always makes a point of hurting me and humiliating me.

My mother sighs.

''I know, dear. But I'm disappointed. '' She looks at Ronan, who is lying on the sofa. ''I'm sorry about my daughter, Ronan.

''Don't worry, mother-in-law. She's still useless in some ways. But at least she'll help my company with the money she'll receive.'' I look at him in disbelief.

What do you mean the money I'm going to receive is going to help your company?

'' That's great news. '' My father says excitedly. ''Fifteen thousand dollars will help a lot. Well done, my child.

I look at Ronan, still shocked. He looks back at me.

''What? Did you really think I'd allow you to live in someone else's house so you wouldn't help me? Thank you for letting me in.

My parents just agree, without even realizing the humiliation behind his every word.

I take a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. I can't cry, not now. They wouldn't understand, and he certainly wouldn't care.

''I'm going to serve the table,'' I say, my voice almost breaking, but I manage to keep it steady.

I walk towards the kitchen, feeling the weight of each step. I try to concentrate on what I need to do, as if that would take my mind off the pain squeezing my chest. Furthermore, I place the plates and cutlery carefully, lining them up perfectly, while fighting the knot in my throat.

“It's just another lunch, Yara. Just another lunch,” I repeat to myself, as if these words could give me the strength I need to endure once again.

As soon as I've finished putting the plates on the table, I call everyone to sit down. My stomach is upset, and the last thing I want to do is eat, but I know I have to behave as expected. My parents take their seats, while Ronan sits at the head of the table, assuming his usual posture of superiority.

'' The smell is good, at least. '' My mother comments, taking her napkin and placing it gently on her lap.

''I hope it tastes good too. '' adds my father, helping himself to a generous portion.

I sit silently, watching as they serve themselves and begin to eat. Ronan tastes a piece and makes a restrained expression of approval.

'' That's acceptable. '' He says without even looking in my direction.

I keep my eyes fixed on the plate in front of me, feeling the familiar wave of anxiety envelop me. I pick up my fork and start to tinker with my food, pushing it around without really wanting to eat.

The conversation soon turns to Ronan's company, as it always does at these meetings.

''So, Ronan, how's business? '' asks my father, with genuine interest.