To say I was my daddy's little girl was an understatement. I was always with him, in my view he was my real parent, and he even made up for my mother, even though I barely got to see him.
My mother had never acted like a parent and I doubt she had the capacity to either. It was always the house nanny’s job to look after me.
She was never one who showed emotions or gave physical contact, something every child got as a kid but I don't even remember the last time my mother even made an attempt to hug me. Oh wait, she never did. Emotions made you weak, that was what she always told me when I was growing up. There was never a goodnight hug, or a kiss, and she disapproved when my father showed any affection.
She told me often that the only reason I was even born was so there was an ‘heir’ to the family line, so our money didn’t go astray. Who would tell their ten-year-old daughter that?
Sitting on the couch next to my dad, I felt him wrap an arm around me and I placed my legs on the seat, enjoying the warmth from the fire. There was something tense in the room as my parents had a stare down and I shifted uneasily in my seat. I had never known the meaning of tension in the air better than now.
My father sighed and turned to look at me, his eyes analyzing my face, and frowned. It was like he knew.
"Is everything o-"
"Your father and I have something to discuss," said my mother, cutting off whatever my dad was going to say. For someone who claims she has no emotions, she sure got jealous when father spent more time talking to me.
I sighed and looked up at her, raising my eyebrows to question her. And here I thought my dad wore the pants in this relationship.
"Years ago, a man had saved his business rival from a horrible death. He has made a promise," she started. It was easy to zone out when my mother spoke and watch the flickering fire or even the way the ducted heating blew a piece of fluff from a jumper across the room. It brought up questions like, why have the heating system and the fireplace at the same time? Wasn’t that a waste of energy?
Her voice was that monotone. Made me wonder what my dad saw in her to marry her.
"The promise was that the first granddaughter he had would be married to his best man's family. Back then it wasn’t about money, it was about word. When someone gives their word, they stick to it. They care about loyalty. The two businesses had enough power to overrun each other and send one sinking to the ground, which in these days can cause a great global financial crisis with the way both businesses have risen. To make sure that didn't happen, they made a promise."
I always did wonder why she picked such bad wallpaper. I mean, orange does not go with the fireplace; it didn’t create a natural theme at all. And why orange? It wasn’t even orange orange, if there was such a thing, it was mustard orange. My eyes just hurt staring at it; it was like staring at the clouds when they blocked out the sun. You couldn’t see the sun but your eyes felt the glare from it.
"They weren't just family rivals but also business rivals. Ever since that day, they both had worked together to help each other in each other's business. Better lead the world with a friend," she dictated. Rather than focus on her story, I was focusing on how she said ‘each other’ too much in the sentence. Mother, did you even study English?
My mother looked a bit wary as she told me all this. I couldn't help but yawn; this was boring and all I wanted to do was lock myself away and cry. But for some reason, tears just wouldn't come. Maybe I was expecting this type of betrayal from J –him. There were so many signs along the way that our relationship was just not working out. In a way, was I glad that it was finally over.
I should have known this was coming. The past few months gave me enough warning.
"So they had given their word. I don’t care what anyone thinks,” I scoffed. Well, that was obvious.
“And I don’t care what you have to say about this but the sacred promise must be kept.”
She grabbed a box off the fireplace and walked over, handing it to me. I opened it up to see a beautiful engraved ring. There was a light colored stone in the middle and it looked like the gold had wrapped itself around the ring, like a small delicate vine wrapping around the stone before forming into a ring.
"Okay. Why do I need to know this?" I asked, looking up from the box. “And why do I need this?”