After The Fall - END

31. Orinthar

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This is actually what I don't want to see when I come to my mother's house: Orinthar sleeps in her bed, and my mom has this glow on her face when she wakes up at nine in the morning. This is something that never happened before. My mother always wakes up before sunrise.

It doesn't take a genius to know that they just had makeup or angry sex, or whatever it is. She practically jumps a little when she walks, and her anger from yesterday no longer seems apparent.

"Will I have a sister or brother now?" My question makes her glare at me with a red face.

"No," my mother answers sternly, and honestly, I don't want to hear another answer. Period.

I glance into my mother's room to make sure the blue giant is still sleeping. His breath is steady, although all I can see from here is his bare back. "So, have you forgiven him?" I whisper to her, even though we are close by.

"I ... don't know. He is in jail; he's not here because he abandoned us. If he were out there playing house with another female or human, it would be another story." My mom is quiet for a while before adding, "and the sex was good."

I scrunch my face at the last words. "Ew, Mom, stop it. I don't want to hear anything about your bedroom situation."

"You are married to one of them; I'm pretty sure you've got a lot of action going on." She winks at me, then hums while preparing breakfast. I've never seen this side of her—the bubbly and happy one. She's always full of worry and has a longing face.

I love this side of her.

"Don't you think this is too easy for him? You can play hard to get."

"Cookie monster, I'm too old to play that game. I have an empty nest, and you barely come here when you get pregnant. Xander will not have you come here as you please."

"He will not do that."

My mother looks at me like I've lost my mind. "He will. And I miss your dad. We've already wasted 26 years apart from each other. I don't want to add another years to the stack. But you can rest asure I don't make it easy for him."

I don't speak for a while. I try to think from her perspective. How lonely it would be to be in the middle of the forest by herself. Even though Xander has already made sure she has everything she needs, being alone for too long tends to mess with your head. Plus, if someone were with her, I wouldn't be wondering what if she gets hurt when she tries to go to the toilet in the middle of the night. Orinthar wouldn't let anything happen to her.

"Speaking of Orinthar, I don't need to call him 'father' or 'dad' right at this moment, right?" Mother brings a plate of food that makes my mouth water just by the smell.

"Of course you don't. You can call him whatever you want. I know this is so sudden for both of us. How are you taking all of this? You didn't spare a glance at him after I told you he is your father."

Of course, she saw through me. I tried not to think about it, and it's easier than I thought it would be. "I ... don't know? I don't even know what to feel. Every emotion that I know is scattered around me, and I don't know which one to choose first. What is the reason behind the imprisonment? Should I be angry at him for not being in our lives? Because that's what I feel as long as I live. I hate him for making me different and making us exiled. We are not part of humans, and I'm not blue or big enough to be a Zorion to scare them away. I hate him because he is nowhere near when those people beat you."

Apparently, my heart and my mind have chosen anger as the top of the list. My anger is piling up as it bursts forth over me. Yet, sadness trails closely behind. I blink rapidly, staring at the ceiling, desperate to hold back the tears that tremble in my voice. Lately, my emotions have been a chaotic whirlwind, and I despise this lack of control. I don't plan to cry, but anything about Orinthar overwhelms me. I don't know where to channel my anger, sadness, and betrayal.

My mother's comforting presence envelops me. She whispers, "Oh, honey, it's okay. Everything will be alright."

I respond, my voice choked, "You always said that when I was little." Tears stream down my face, and her tight hug intensifies my cries.

She insists, "And I'll say it again and again: everything will be okay. We'll get through this together. It's us against the world."

As I cry, it feels as if I've regressed to my five-year-old self—the time when another kid pushed me away, rejecting the alien bastard kid who didn't fit in. This memory adds to the mounting reasons why I'm furious at Orinthar. I don't care if others label me as bitter; this anger stems from events years ago, events over which he had no power.