My Dad's Bestfriend

Chapter 25 Awkward Communication

EvelynConTEent bel0ngs to Nôv(e)lD/rama(.)Org .

To be honest, Dad's wedding felt like the longest destination wedding ever conceived. It was my meticulously planned affair, and I had no regrets

about its duration. The actual wedding ceremony was scheduled for about a week later, so at this point, the mansion was filled with close friends and relatives. Other guests were expected to arrive a day before the wedding, while some would come on the final day.

However, amidst the people present here, there were a few individuals whom I despised, and one of them was undeniably my mother. The only reason she was here was to face the consequences of her past actions.

"Your father truly cares about you," Jacob said, a smile playing on his lips as he handed me a cup of coffee. He glanced over at Dad, who was massaging my feet as a way of compensating for the upheaval he had caused by inviting my mother to the wedding.

Dad's intentions were not unfounded; he simply wanted to mend the strained relationship between my mother and me. However, that doesn't excuse him from the fact that he invited her to his wedding without informing me. He had done it completely behind my back, making him a culprit in my eyes, even if not in reality.

"I know, right?" I chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss on Dad's cheek. "But sometimes he just acts like a bonehead."

While Jacob and Clara burst into laughter, a deep frown settled on Dad's face, clearly displaying his irritation.

"Excuse me, this foot massage doesn't give you the right to call me stupid. You won't be getting anything else as compensation," Dad retorted. "You're too cute," I laughed.

"And you're too stubborn."

"That's kind of true," Jacob chimed in, taking a sip of his coffee. A small, almost imperceptible smirk formed at the corner of his lips.

However, as soon as Dad's gaze fell on him, Jacob quickly brushed it off with a laugh. "She's always been like this since childhood, hasn't she?" Dad's earlier peculiar expression disappeared, replaced by a plain, blank expression.

"Yeah, she has always been like this. Stubborn and a bit childish," he chuckled lightly.

"Excuse me," I frowned, feeling the need to defend myself. "I was never childish."

"Evelyn, hate to break it to you, but that's debatable," Clara interjected, causing a gasp of disbelief to escape from my lips.

She wasn't supposed to side with them, "Clara, you were supposed to be on my side!"

Her realisation seemed to dawn on her as she bit her tongue. "Well, I didn't mean it... What I meant is that..." She searched for the right words but stumbled upon nonsense. "You can never be childish. Yeah, you never act like a child."

"Thank you so much, Clara. That was truly helpful," I replied, dripping with sarcasm.

Though she clearly caught the sarcasm in my voice, before she could respond, a voice interrupted us- the last person I wanted to see at that moment.

"Good morning, everyone," my mother, Danica, entered the hall, and suddenly, the desire to be there vanished from within me.

"Good morning, Danica," Clara greeted her with a smile. "Here, take a seat."

Mom settled beside Clara, exchanging pleasantries with Jacob and Dad before her gaze finally fell upon me. Though I had purposely avoided looking her way, I could sense her hesitation.

She wanted to talk to me. No matter how many years we had spent apart, she was still my mother, and interpreting her emotions wasn't difficult for

me.

I observed her exchanging a glance with Dad and Clara, seeking their reassurance before she spoke, "Hey, Evelyn." Her hesitation was palpable, her eyes wavering. "How's everything going?"

Without knowing why, my gaze shifted to Jacob, who sat across from Dad and me on the couch. I felt a strange mix of certainty and uncertainty, as if my body and heart were seeking answers from him, perhaps just some validation.

As if he had read my thoughts, Jacob subtly nodded and blinked, and at that moment, the invisible restraints that had held me back from communicating seemed to dissipate into thin air.

It was astonishing how much I had come to rely on him, almost unconsciously. It had happened slowly, creeping up on me until it became a full-blown dependency, without me even realising it. Now that I finally acknowledged it, it seemed too late to do anything about it, and truthfully, I didn't even want to take any action.

My mother noticed the silent exchange between Jacob and me, but she chose to remain silent and hide her suspicion.

"I'm good, Mom," I forced a smile onto my face, "How are you?"

To my surprise, a smile broke across her face at my response. Maybe I hadn't sounded as cold as I did the other day.

"That's great," happiness gleamed in her eyes. It seemed that a simple response from me had brought her an unbelievable amount of joy.

If she truly loved me so much, then why did she leave us in the first place? It just didn't fit right.

"How are you doing with your studies? I remember the last time I heard from Samuel, he mentioned that you did really well in the semester. Have you been focusing on maths?"

She remembered that I struggled with maths...

For a woman who had left her child and husband years ago, it was surprising that she still retained such small details about her daughter.

"Yeah, I've been focusing on it. Clara has been a tremendous help to me over the past few years, and my maths skills have improved," I cleared my throat, feeling a peculiar sense of guilt creeping up within me.

"That's good," Mom smiled. "And your friend Mason, Nancy, and... what's her name... Jennie? Are you still friends with them?"

The more she spoke, the more uncomfortable I felt. I had never expected her to remember anything about me, let alone these small details that were once a part of my life. "Yeah, everything's good. We are still friends, just like before. Thanks for asking."

"That's nice to hear," she smiled, the excitement in her eyes making me want to avert my gaze, " I didn't really get the chance to catch up on your daily life. It's Samuel who has always kept me informed about you."

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to quell the guilt that had been

lingering within me. I shouldn't feel guilty for

with hot maintaining contact

her

these years. Yes, she

tried to reach out to me multiple times, but it was she who left me in the first place.

The reason I chose not to keep her involved in the events of my life was simple. She abandoned me, despite my desperate pleas for her to stay At the time when Dad and I needed her themost, she chose to step away. So why should I feel obligated to share my life with her now? Why should I open up or pour out my

heart to her?

It was true that Dad never held any grudges against her. But for me... I couldn't help it. I was just a child who had dreamt of having both her parents close to her, but my dream was shattered. The fairytale ending was cruelly cut short before it could even begin.

"You used to paint all the time..." she began, a nostalgic smile on her face. "And you guys know what? All of Evelyn's paintings were absolutely astonishing. Remember Samuel, the time she made a painting of the two of us? We couldn't believe our eyes that it was made by her because she was just so little then."

"Yeah," Dad's lips curled into a smile. "Compared to a seven-year-old, her skills were... unbelievable."

Perhaps under different circumstances, I might have blushed at receiving such praise. But at that moment, I felt an indescribable sense of overwhelming emotion that left me feeling numb.

The inspiration behind my paintings had always been my mom and dad, and without that inspiration, it felt like there was no art. My parents' divorce had shattered many things, including the person I used to be.

I had learned to adapt to the circumstances, but the resentment I harboured towards my mother was an ever-present haunting presence.

I was okay, but not truly okay.

"Evelyn..." My father's voice broke through my daze.

"Yeah?"

"Your mom was asking you something," Dad reluctantly informed me, as if he already knew my response to the question my mom had asked, a question I hadn't quite registered.

"Sorry, I just zoned out. What was it again?"

"I was asking if you still paint," she repeated, genuinely interested in knowing my answer or perhaps hoping for a positive response at the very least.

I shrugged, letting out a laugh. "I don't paint anymore."

"What?" Her face displayed utter bewilderment. "Why did you stop painting?"

"Because I lost my inspiration," With that, I stood up from my seat and walked out of the hall.