20. DAHLIA HARPER

(Two weeks later)

My friends had dragged me out despite my half-hearted protests. "You need a break," they'd said. "You need popcorn and people who love you."

"Sorry, everyone. I will not act like a fucking superhero again." I said this to my girls' group about the hundredth time. "Well, it's been 2 weeks. Leave it now."

"We are not leaving it. Something could have happened to you." Josie pushed back, her eyes filled with concern. "We care about you too much to just let it go."

"Nothing happened, and I am fine. We are here to have a girls night, as Milla is going to Eldorra tomorrow." I tried to escape their worried expressions by changing the subject, hoping they would drop the superhero topic for the night. "Let's focus on enjoying our time together before Camilla leaves."

"Josie, continue to lecture her. She deserves it because she scared us to death. And I could easily convince Dada to let me stay here for some more time." Milla looks at me, her blonde hair shining under the dim light of the room.

"Okay, we will surely give Lia a tight speech on this. But now we have something more important to discuss." Sofia said it with a vicious smile on her face. Sofia is a sucker for romance. And she is not going to drop that topic.

"What is it?" Josie asked, although her face told she already knew.

By the expression of Sofia, I know she is going to drop a bomb on me right now.

"The discussion on the private affair of—I don't want to hear the rest—Dahlia Christian Harper and Marco Dante Russo."

"What the fuck!?!" Camilla's phone fell from her hand, and her head snapped up. It was very rare for her to curse. She was genuinely shocked. "Is that why he always wanted to stay behind at the hospital?"

I kept the silence, wishing to God that she would please get me out of this room.

"Yes, that's a matter of utmost importance. What are your intentions with my brother?" Josie said to me sternly, dark hair framing her face, making her look beautiful but intimidating. I gulped, trying to find the right words to explain my relationship with Marco.

"I love him." Honest, simple, and truthful.

"Marco told me no one has the capacity to make him fall in love. And our girl, Lia here used to say love-date-romance is not for her. But here we are, in love and breaking all our own rules." Josie's expression softened, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Never say never. Isn't it a great love story?" Sofia clears her throat, her hand curling around an invisible microphone as she says in a narrator's voice, "And so, against all odds, Marco and Lia found themselves falling in love, proving that sometimes the heart knows best." The three friends laughed.

"Please enlighten me, guys." Camilla insisted. "It isn't fair how I am always the last to know about these things."

"We were having a night out. The one in which you said that you wished we came to visit you in Eldorra. Marco and Taehyung were dropping us off. Josie and I went inside the house, thinking Lia would come up after closing the door. She didn't for a long time. So we went to check up." Sofia says in a conspiratorial whisper.

"And I saw my brother practically eating her up." Josie cut off Sofia and finished the story.

"Hey, that was the best part." Sofia shoves her, grinning.

"He wasn't eating me up. He was kissing me." I said it in defense , feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks.

Josephine shrugged and said, "Well, it sure looked like he was eating you up from where we were standing."rolled her eyes and laughed, "You guys are ridiculous."

"How did you even fall for him? I remember you saying to us that you don't want to date anyone." Sofia said she was still smiling. Nothing delighted her more than a good love story.

I recounted everything to them without stopping.

"So, that was it. Time changes and people change, so I ditched the idea of not falling in love and fell for him. Hard."

Sofia nodded in understanding, while Josephine raised an eyebrow and teased, "Looks like you found your exception to the rule." I chuckled and agreed, grateful for their support and humor.

"Well, that was hot." Camilla added.

And then there was absolute silence. Sofia was smiling, and Camilla and Josie were deep in thought.

"So, do you agree on this relationship?" I asked.

"Totally, no one could disagree with a story with a hot Italian man who could fuck—" Sofia began.

"Sofia, spare me. I don't want to hear these things about my brother." Josie said , cutting her off with a playful glare.

"Okay, in my opinion, it's incredible." Sofie grinned , looking at me with admiration. "I think this story has the potential to be a bestseller," she added confidently.

"Same here," Camilla says, wrapping up her hair in a loose bun.

I turned to Josie, whose opinion mattered the most. She was my best friend as well as Marco's sister.

"Josie, what do you think?" I asked, eager for her feedback.

Josie chuckled and shook her head. "I think it's a bit too scandalous for my taste, but hey, if it sells, it sells," she replied with a smirk. "Plus, it's you two who decide. I am no one to tell you what to do with your story."

"You know how much I love you, Josie?" I whispered to her as I gave her a grateful smile.

"No, bitch. I don't. You should text it to me at least a million times a day and praise me more often." Josephine laughs , playfully nudging me with her elbow. "I'm kidding."

"I know, but seriously, you mean the world to me," I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders.

"Same here," she responds, leaning into my side. "We've got each other's backs, always."

"Well, Lia is in love; we should celebrate." Sofia yelled , raising her glass in the air. "Let's make it a girls' night out!" Everyone cheered in agreement, excited for the upcoming celebration.

"What do we need to celebrate, Sofia?" The door opened, and Mom walked in, wearing a green silk robe with a surprised look on her face. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"We need to celebrate that Lia is in—

"That Lia is in good condition, Aunt Stella." Josie finished the sentence and glared at Sofia, silently warning her not to reveal.

Thank god.

"We will, darling. I was going to sleep, so do you need anything? Tell me now." She walked to us and started to give us kisses.

When she finished her kisses, she looked at me. Her expression contained sadness covered with love. She looked much better than when I saw her at the hospital. She loves me. But she is clearly not happy with me not trusting her. We made a promise when I was younger that we would tell each other about our problems, and I broke it. She hides her disappointment. She cares about me and probably doesn't want me to be sad.

But I know, and it does make me feel sad.

She is not only my mom but my best friend too. She has been very supportive and understanding so far. She never pushes me into something.

That makes me wonder how to tell dad and her the truth. It's been two weeks since I gained consciousness. Dad and mom had avoided the conversation as Uncle Josh told him not to. They are waiting for me to step out and tell them. I only want to procrastinate on this.

Mom snapped out of her thoughts and said to me,."Lia, do you need me to dress your wounds?" She effectively hid her sadness with a bright smile. "Also, did you have your medicines, dear?"

"Yes, I took them, and dad dressed the wounds, so they are fine for the night. Besides, the girls can help me if I need it." I replied quietly.

"I am not helping with blood; it's gross." Camilla made a face and crossed her arms. Lia reassured her,

In all of us, she hated these kinds of things the most.

"The wound is closed, Cami," Sofia said to her. She loved crime documentaries and all.

"Seeing a wound would still be tough." Camilla retorted.

"Okay, so night girls." Mom smiled and looked at me one more time before going out.

I looked toward the door for some time.

"Aunt Stella is not herself. She is trying to hide it. Did you tell them about that?" Josie leaned in and whispered to me. She knew Mom as well as I did.

"No, I am trying to figure out a way."

Josie squeezed my hand to say she was with me.

"When are you going to tell your parents?" Cami asked me.

"When I sort out this mess, What do you think their reactions will be?" I said.

"Dad would probably be mad at Marco first but will accept it later on. But he will surely keep pissing Marco off. He and I are best at it. Mom would be simply happy." Josie stated.

Relief.

"Uncle Christian would shoot Marco right there." Camilla said.

Wait, did she say shoot? Now dad's reaction is freaking me out. I need to buy a bulletproof jacket.

"No, he will send a snake into his room to bite him." Josie added.

"He is your brother, Josephine," I said.

"Sorry, I forgot. But Uncle Christian is going to do this regardless." She spoke as if this conversation was boring.

"He will chop him off and sell his body pieces on the dark web." Sofia finished.

"That was bloody, Sofia." Cami flinched.

"Whatever it is, we will see it. Now let's see a movie." I tried to cheer them on.

"There is a new crime movie out," Sofia said.

"Never. We will see something romantic." Camilla replied.

"Let's see a rom-com." Josie agreed with Cami.

"Sorry, Sofia, you are outnumbered." I said this when Sofia huffed dramatically.

[.....................]

I sat still, even though the sting of the ointment bit through my skin like fire. I winced slightly, but he didn't say anything. He just gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, steady and gentle.

"This part might burn a little," he'd warned me softly before starting.

He took his time, moving with the kind of quiet tenderness that made me want to cry more than the pain did. Not because it hurt, but because it reminded me that no matter how broken I felt inside, he still saw me as someone worth caring for—someone he could still protect.

He always did this for me. Ever since I was little, it was Dad who handled the cuts, scrapes, twisted ankles, and now... this. He was solid in moments like these, not just calm—but comforting. The kind of man who carried storms on his shoulders and never let a drop fall on us.

Mom didn't like big wounds which were bloody, red, swollen , and she would always look away when Dad was tending to them. But Dad never flinched, never hesitated. But mom was also ready to put aside everything for me.

The fact she always asked me that if I wanted her to dress my wounds was a testament to her unconditional love and care for me. Dad's strength and Mom's tenderness were the perfect balance in times of need.

"It's not too deep," Dad murmured, almost more to himself than to me. "But it's angry. Might bruise around the edges."

It had only been two days since the movie night.We never actually watched the movie. Not properly, anyway. It was one of those nights where the snacks ran out too fast, someone kept losing the remote, and we paused every fifteen minutes just to laugh or tell an unrelated story. Half the group was cuddled up in blankets, and the other half was sprawled out on bean bags like overgrown kids at a sleepover.

They teased me a little about my new relationship, sure—but it was the kind of teasing that came with love. Grinning, affectionate jabs. The kind that said, We see you. We're happy for you. Not the sugary kind that made you feel like a joke.

And I loved them for that.

For letting me just be. Not the girl who'd gone through something terrible. Not a walking trauma. Just me.

I needed to say something. I needed to say everything.

"Dad?" I said quietly, my voice almost trembling.

"Yes, little butterfly?" he replied, his hand pausing for a brief second on my shoulder.

My throat tightened at the sound of the nickname.

"I'm sorry. Truly," I whispered.

He looked at me then, really looked at me. His eyes softened. "I'm not mad at you, darling. I'm mad at myself. For not being there when you needed me. It's me who needs to say sorry. Not you."

He touched my cheek with his calloused fingers, and I leaned into it without thinking.

"No, Dad. It's not your fault. I didn't tell you sooner. I kept it all to myself. If I had spoken up—" My voice cracked. "If I told you, maybe none of this would've happened."

"It is my fault," he said, pain flickering in his voice. "Sometimes I wonder if I failed you. If I wasn't a good enough father for you to trust me. I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm being honest with you, Lia. But listen—I don't blame you. I could never."

His words gutted me. Not because he was wrong—but because I'd believed he might blame me. Because I'd let that thought take root, let it rot me from the inside. I hated that I'd doubted him. That I ever thought he might see me as—

I swallowed hard.

"Dad..." I started, the air in my lungs suddenly sharp. "It's me who should be sorry. Roland—he had videos. Things that weren't appropriate. He was your friend, and you trusted him. And he told me—he told me no one could love someone as ugly as me. That if I said anything, he'd send you the videos. That you'd see me as a slut. That you'd believe him over me."

The words felt like glass on my tongue.

"I believed him," I said, each syllable pulling something loose inside me. "I doubted you. Every time I came home and you told me you loved me, I thought... maybe you wouldn't if you knew the truth. I couldn't believe your love was real. I couldn't enjoy our memories because I hated myself. I hated everything. And it's all my fault."

I broke then. The words, the shame, the pain—all of it came crashing out. I broke then. The words, the shame, the pain—all of it came crashing out.He pulled me into his arms, and I collapsed against his chest. His hand cradled the back of my head as I cried—hard, like I hadn't let myself in months. He didn't say anything at first. Just held me. Rocked me slightly like he used to when I was small and sick and afraid of the dark.

When I finally stopped crying, he pulled back just enough to hold my face in both hands.

"Lia, darling," he said gently, "you were afraid. Traumatised. Manipulated. You were young. He used that. What happened wasn't your fault—not one bit of it. People in that kind of situation? Most of them collapse under it. But you—you're still here. You're still fighting. That makes you strong, my girl."

"Lia," he said, voice firm but kind, "you are not a slut. Don't you ever let someone's cruelty convince you to carry their shame."

I stared at him, my lips trembling.

"There is nothing you could do—nothing—that would make me stop loving you," he continued. "You are my daughter. You are mine. And I love you exactly as you are. Not some version of you. You."

"You were hurt. You were manipulated by someone I should never have trusted. But that doesn't change who you are. It doesn't touch your worth. You didn't ruin anything. You didn't fail me. You survived. And you're still here. And I'm so proud of you."

A sob tore from my throat, but it was softer this time. More release than despair.

"You hear me?" he said. "You are not dirty. You are not broken. You are mine. And nothing—nothing—changes that."

"I promise," I whispered through tears, "I'll never hide anything again."

And I meant it. The thread inside me—the one holding everything together—finally stopped straining. I didn't feel whole. Not yet. But I felt held. And for now, that was enough.

We sat like that in silence. Not the painful kind. The comforting kind. The kind that says: You're safe now.

There's a saying in India: "Pain becomes lighter when you share it. Problems become easier when faced together."

Mom says everything is good.Dad says it's all dark.But me?

I think it's both.

And today, for the first time in a long time, I believed I could live with that.

----------- ---------

"Should I add more sugar to it, Lia?" Mom called from the kitchen.

I was on the couch, texting Marco. For the first time in what felt like ages, I felt... good. Really good. Like I had room to breathe again after everything I'd finally said to Dad.

"You know I don't like it too sweet," I called back.

"I know, honey. But it's better to ask."

She stepped into the living room with a tray—coffee for me and matcha for herself. Normally, I'd go for matcha too, but today I needed coffee. My body could afford a little more damage. Emotional clarity required caffeine.

She sat beside me, her presence calm as always.

"So," she said, setting the tray down. "How was your night out? I didn't get to ask."

"It was fun. We did our usual—talked over the movie, laughed too much, ate too much."

I glanced at my phone again. Still no reply from Marco. When I looked up, Mom was watching me, her eyes thoughtful. She quickly turned away, flipping through a stack of magazines on the table like she needed to find something—anything—to do with her hands.

But I caught it. The shimmer in her eyes. The shadow of something heavy still lingering.

I had cleared things with Dad. But Mom... she was still holding it in. Still hurting.

Now felt like the right time.

"Mom?"

"Yes, honey?" she said, not looking up.

"Look at me, please."

She did—and her eyes were wet, on the edge of spilling. That familiar sparkle dimmed by something unspoken. I knew that look.

I grabbed my hand and began. "Mom. I am sorry.

"Don't you say you're sorry, Lia? Because you have absolutely no reason to be sorry." Mom interjected.

"Mom, let me be sorry. You were my best friend. My secret keeper. I never told you this. Rolan-

"Your dad told me all of this, honey. I know it all. Don't push yourself to tell it all again. It must be emotionally tough." She interjected again. It was great, actually, because it was emotionally tough for me.

"Then why are you so sad?" I asked her.

"Because I feel guilty for all that happened. When I look at you and your wounds, it all gets to me that maybe it was me responsible for your pain. Well, it's human nature to blame themselves. But it keeps me awake. The look and pain on everyone's face. Maybe I could have stopped this before it started." She looked away. I know she was trying hard not to lose herself right now. Why is she blaming herself? She couldn't have done anything to stop it. In all of the most-hard-to-see-things lists, my mom living in guilt over something she didn't have any hand in was on top.

"There was nothing you could do, mom. Don't feel guilty." I tried to assure her.

"I could have never mentioned Roland's name for your tutor. You never told this to us because you thought that he was my good friend, and I will doubt you. It was me who started it in the first place."

A tear rolled down her beautiful face.

"No. Mom, you are not at fault here. There was nothing you could've done to stop all of this shit. You never knew that Roland was such a bastard. You never knew that he would do this all to me behind your back. You wanted me to succeed in my career, so you simply introduced me to GIM for my help. No one knows the future. If you had known, I know that you would never have recommended him to me. So don't feel guilty about anything that has happened. No one's here to blame except Roland's quiet treason." I wiped the tear from her face.

Mom just nodded.

"Mom, do you understand? You are not at fault." I said it again.

"I do, dear." Mom nodded.

"Promise me you're not going to blame yourself." I held out my hand. After a moment, she slowly took my hand and shook it tightly.

"I promise." She got up with a good smile on her face and went to the kitchen with the coffee cups. Now everything is settled. It was good to see her like that. All along, I thought my parents would blame me for everything, but they never did; instead, they blamed themselves. That's a testament to how much they love me. My phone buzzed, and my mood went to higher levels when I saw it was Marco.

...................................................

MARCO: Are you free this Saturday?

Me: yep. There is nothing to do.

MARCO: Then I was asking if we should spend a night at my house. Alone. It would be fun and a refreshment after the shitshow.

Without a second thought, I agreed.

ME: Yes, I would love that.

ME: I have to take Josie to work for an excuse.

MARCO: Speaking of that, she really gave me a hard time lecturing on the different ways she would kill me if I ever tried to hurt you.

MARCO: I never knew she knew there were so many ways to kill a man.

ME: Which one made you choke?

MARCO: There were many, but there was this one.

MARCO: She told me she would chop my dick off and make a soup of it. Then she would feed it to me.

I choked on the air. I never knew Josie was as vicious as this. Crime documentaries should stop right away.

Marco: She did it with hand gestures. She didn't even flinch at her words.

MARCO: I'm never going to deny her anything, or I might have to lose my dickens.

ME: You should not. I love your dickey much.

Marco: We will see you with immense love on Saturday.

Marco: I will pick you up at 8. I love you, diamond.

ME: sure. I love you too.

"Diamond. Hmm. I never knew Marco was such a romantic." Mom's words caused me to drop my ohone on the table. I'm glad it didn't break down.

"Mom, there is nothing like this." I tried to brush it off.

"Oh, don't question my intelligence. I saw him writing I love you to you. Wait, is that the reason he always wanted to stay behind at the hospital" She took a seat beside me.

I wasn't planning to tell her until a few weeks later.So glad dad is at work.

"Now, tell your mom, aka best friend, all of the story."

I recounted again, skipping the X-rated scenes.

"So I love him. My friends know about it. I will tell dad a few days later. Promise me you are not going to add dad to it until I tell him." I finished.

"Of course not. It will be our little secret." She paused and said it with great excitement. "So did you lose your virginity to him? Had your first time?"

That was not what I was expecting her to ask.

"Yep, I did. Two times." I answered vaguely, thinking she would let me go. I don't think she has any kind of plan like this, though.

She is all like Jose, Sofia, and Camilla. That's why she's everyone's favorite aunt. She blends in with us so well and understands.

"How was it? Details." She leaned back with a serious look.

I was genuinely taken aback. Was she asking me for the details?

"Okay, spare me details. Tell me, how was it?" She asked again.

"Mom, you know it's not appropriate to talk sex with your daughter. Especially with details." I tried to again shook it off.

"Your dad gave you sex education instead of mine. And I know it wasn't uncomfortable. You two were howling when your dad said, Never have sex with someone who has a puny dick. Well, was it appropriate?" Mom reasoned well.

Yes, dad and I did it. It was fun. I didn't feel an ounce of awkwardness. Instead, we were howling about different, not-so-appropriate things to say. Mom just knows one instance.

To mention, mom gave dad a real lesson, and he never talked about it again with me.

"Okay, it was awesome. Toe curling. Mind blowing. Absolute heaven. I love it. He fucks like a pornstar. For dad's sake, his dick was so big I felt it in my stomach." She choked. Well, she wanted to know how it was. I simply provided it.

"That was quite a description. Did you use protection?"

"Of course, mom, and don't look at me like that." I said.

"It seems as though it was yesterday when you used to come to our room because you couldn't sleep at night. Now you are in love and having your first time." She wiped invisible tears from her eyes.

"So now I am going to ask a favor."

"No need. Go with Marco to spend a night at his house. I will handle your dad. Just use protection and tell him to be light. You are sick." She smiled.

"It's not good to read someone's chat. I am not sick anymore; I am fine." I was shocked at her words.

"Okay, so tell him to go hard. If that's what you want." She smiled mockingly.

She has to stop reading Aunt Issa's erotica and hanging out with Aunt Jules. But I love them both. They both are full of entertainment.

"Mom!!!" I tackled her with tickling.

"Okay-okay, stop." But I kept tickling. "I said stop. I surrender."

But we ended up tired after laughing our butts off. I love my mom. She is the best.