“Enough. This is the first and last time you disrespect her under my roof. Do it again and you’ll have me to answer to.”
I grab my watch to stop my shaky fingers from moving. I never thought I’d need Jonathan to stand up for me until I saw it myself.
Not that it forgives anything he’s done — and continues to do — but the fact that he won’t allow anyone, even his own son, to speak to me that way means something.
I don’t know what it is. But it does.
“Remember what you told me last year?” Aiden’s left eye twitches. “The part about how I have no respect for my mother’s memory? Who, between the two us, doesn’t have respect for her, Jonathan? Huh? Because I sure as shit am not sitting with her doppelgänger on my lap.”
His words slam into me, even though Jonathan remains unaffected. My fingers continue their quivering and I clear my throat. “I…I’m going to go.”
“Stay. This is my house and if he doesn’t like what he sees, he’ll be the one to leave,” Jonathan says with his usual authoritative tone of voice, then addresses Aiden, “After all, you didn’t hesitate to marry Ethan’s daughter.”
“Elsa. Her name is Elsa, Jonathan, and she had nothing to do with whatever feud you have with Ethan.”
Stepping backwards, I inch towards the door. Not only do I not want to be caught in the middle of a father-son quarrel, but I also don’t want to be the cause behind it. I don’t want to witness the two people Alicia loved more than the world itself go at each other’s throats.
It’s almost like a fight between a king and the rebel crown prince.
By the time I’m at the door, Jonathan throws me a disapproving glance, probably because of the way I’m leaving after he insisted I stay.
We’re different, he and I. While he doesn’t care about yelling at Aiden, I do. The scene breaks my heart.
Jonathan is an emotionless man. Or more accurately, his feelings don’t resurface, so I didn’t expect him to have a sappy father-son relationship with Aiden. But I also didn’t expect this hostility either. I thought Alicia’s early, unexpected death would’ve brought them together. Apparently not.
That sure as hell doesn’t help my guilt trip towards Aiden. Maybe things would’ve been different if I’d been there for him since the funeral.
Or if I hadn’t fucked his father.
I hang my head as I grab my bag and make a beeline towards my car. My phone dings and I smile as Layla’s name appears on the screen.
Layla: Are you late because of daddy kink?
Layla: Say yes and I’ll pay for lunch for a week.
Layla: It can even be a lie. Just say yes.
I smile and shake my head. Despite being a devout Muslim who prays five times a day, fasts during Ramadan, drinks no alcohol, has no sex before marriage, and eats no pork, Layla has the wildest fantasies, I swear.
What I love about her the most is that she isn’t afraid to let those fantasies show or to even joke about them. She also doesn’t judge how others live their lives as long as they don’t judge hers. She’s never once tried to apply her beliefs on me. Back at uni, she accepted me the way I was, scars and all, and never probed hard about my past.
The first time she brought me to her home for Eid and her family welcomed me to their table, as if I’d always belonged there, was when I found some sort of balance after struggling with it for so long.
Aurora: No.
Layla: You’re so cruel. How could you kill the fantasy so brutally? *crying emoji* X3
Biting my lower lip, I type.
Aurora: But I am sore.
Layla: I knew it!
Layla: Details, mate. Details! You can’t keep me hanging like that. The suspense is killing me here.
Aurora: I’ll be in the office in a bit.
Layla: Fine, I’ll be productive until you come. By the way, why did you leave early yesterday? Are you okay?
The memories of Stephan and the panic attack I had nearly assault me all over again.
But since Jonathan flipped me on my stomach and fucked me so thoroughly, those have been the least of my worries.
Go figure.
Ever since the day I walked into that police station and uncovered the murder of not only one woman but seven, he has been in the forefront of my mind.
He has been the first thought I wake up to every day and the last thought I sleep to every night.
Until last night.
Actually, it started after Jonathan taught me in the roughest way that my body is, in fact, not dead.
I slide into my car and place my bag on the passenger seat. When I lift my head, I’m startled by the shadow perching against my window.
Aiden. His features are still closed off like earlier. If anything, his quarrel with Jonathan seems to have turned him angrier.
Swallowing, I lower the glass. The low sound echoes in the deafening silence.
“I want you gone,” he says ever so casually, as if it can be done by merely giving a vocal order.
He’s Jonathan’s son, all right.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? Just disappear like you’ve been doing so well for the past eleven years.”
“I understand that you don’t like this situation, I don’t either, but —”
“If you don’t like it, then leave. No buts are needed.”
I grit my teeth. “If you’d let me finish my sentence, I would’ve told you I don’t have a choice.”
“Even if this is one of Jonathan’s games, surely you can find a way out. I don’t care what it is as long as you stay as far away from this place as possible.” His gaze meets mine with distaste. “You might be Alicia’s doppelgänger, but I can’t even stand to look at you.”
“Why not?” My voice softens.
“Because you’re fake. You might resemble her, but you’ll never be her.”
“I’ve never tried to be Alicia.”
“Is that why you’re fucking Jonathan?”
I purse my lips to not snap at him for speaking to me this way. He must’ve inherited the entitlement gene from his father.
“He gets bored easily, you know. The moment he finally sees that he can’t get Alicia back through you, he’ll throw you out as if you never existed.”
“That’s exactly what I want, Aiden.”
He watches me peculiarly for a bit, then steps back. I take it as my cue to leave the property.
I have no doubt that I’ll face Aiden again. No idea how that will go, but I’ll make sure not to be caught in that position with Jonathan a second time.
As I drive to work, I feel eyes following me.
At first, I chalk it up to paranoia since I’ve had many false alarms in the past. Especially after the attack.
But as it stays persistent and strong, I realise that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t a false alarm after all.
25
Aurora
A few days later, I’m attending a double charity dinner organised by Layla’s local mosque and a church for orphaned children’s associations.
We do this annually. Layla and I help her mother and their neighbours cook, and then we try to invite as many rich people as possible. Meaning, many of our clients. Some appear, some send cheques, and others ignore us altogether.