Chapter Six: Where was he when I was hurt and battered?

Rosa's POV

The following day, I found myself sitting across from Grandma Hanns, deep in conversation. I needed her comfort more than I knew, and her wise, weathered face gave it to me. David was playing close by, and I let myself unwind for a little while as his little giggles filled the air like music. Despite everything that was going on in my life, his innocence reminded me that I had something innocent to keep safe. "After everything I have been through, I can not believe I have such a handsome baby," I thought as I looked at him, smiling.

Just behind it a bitter thought crept in. Funny enough, I do not know who his biological father is. I am appreciative of my good health, though. If nothing else, there is no HIV. Even though I tried not to think about it, it still bothered me. What if it had been different? What if I wasn’t healthy? What would my life look like then?

Grandma’s soft voice brought me back to the present. “Rosa,” she called sharply, her tone laced with concern.

I turned to her, forcing a smile onto my face. It was the same smile I gave to everyone these days, the one that said, I’m fine. Everything’s fine. But Grandma Hanns saw right through it. Her eyes, those eyes that had seen so much over the years, searched my face.

She said softly, "I understand," in a tender voice.

She seemed to be tugging at the strands of my heart as she reached into my chest. She understood. She was always aware.

We kept talking, but my thoughts kept returning to Donald. Every time I thought of him, my hands clenched into fists and my chest tightened. Even though I did not want to discuss it, Grandma's unwavering stare forced me to.

As I nervously pulled at the hem of my dress, I whispered, "He wants to meet my parents." "But that is not what I want."

Her brows furrowed as she leaned in. “Why not? He is your father no matter what.”

I bit down hard on my bottom lip, my throat tight. The words felt like they were stuck, like they didn’t want to come out. But I pushed them forward, even as tears stung the corners of my eyes.

“Where was he when I left the house, huh?” My voice cracked, but I didn’t stop. “Where was he when I was hurt and battered?” I wiped my face roughly with the back of my hand, angry and helpless at the same time.

How can he be my father when he really does not care about me? I asked in a piercing, harsh voice.

The pain in my chest was evident as I said, "He stopped being my father a long time ago."

Grandma Hanns frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. “He’s your father,” she said quietly, but there was no softness in her voice now. “No matter what.”

Her words felt like a slap in the face. But I wasn’t angry at her. She didn’t understand. How could she? She hadn’t been there. She hadn’t felt the betrayal, the abandonment. She didn’t know the weight of the scars that my dad and step-mom had left on me, the ones that no one saw but me.

“He’s cruel,” I spat out, my voice trembling with emotion. “He’s not my father anymore.”

The dam inside me broke, and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Grandma Hanns pulled me into her arms, holding me close, her embrace warm and strong. She said nothing at first, just letting me cry.

“Forgive him, my dear,” she murmured softly. “Let go of the past. Look at you now. Thank God for today.”

But forgiveness felt impossible. I couldn’t forgive him. Not for what he did. Not for abandoning me when I needed him the most.

“I can’t forgive him!” I sobbed, my words coming out in choked sobs. “He doesn’t deserve my forgiveness!”

The weight of my past, the years of hurt, the nights spent in fear and pain, it all came crashing down in that moment. Before, I considered myself strong, but now I felt like a broken, fragile shell. How could I force myself to control my anger when every part of me pleaded with me to do so?

The silence was broken with a sharp sound as my phone rang at that exact moment. I quickly dabbed at my tears as I tried to focus. "Hello?"

"Madam, there is a problem at the office," my secretary declared over the speaker.

The familiar burden of responsibility returned to my chest, and I let out a sigh. "What is the matter?"

"They are requesting the deal breakdown."

I briefly closed my eyes as fatigue began to seep into my bones. “I told you to have everything ready before I left. I’m not there right now. Call Lilian—she’ll handle it.”

I ended the call, the weight of work momentarily pushing my personal troubles aside. Grandma Hanns continued talking, urging me to face Donald, to be honest with him.

But I wasn’t ready. Not yet. “Grandma,” I said, my voice quieter now. “I hear you, but I’ll do this my way.”

The next day still at Grandma Hanns' house, a friend came visiting. The burden in my chest increased. I kept getting the uneasy feeling that something bad was going to happen. The threatening messages made me tense and sent a shiver down my spine. Deep down, I already knew who was to blame.

With a sick feeling of dread beginning to set in, I muttered under my breath, "I know who it is." “It’s Ryan.”

Just saying his name made my skin crawl. Ryan. My first abuser. The man who had stolen something from me that I’d never be able to get back. I had tried to bury it all for years, but he was back now. Why was he doing this? What did he want from me?

“We’ll find out,” my friend said, but her voice didn’t sound as sure as I felt.

I felt a surge of anger, a fire rising up inside me. "I will," I said through gritted teeth. "He’s not going to ruin my future. I’ve had enough of him."

The thought of him brought back all the terror and helplessness I had once felt. But this time, I wouldn’t run. I wasn’t that broken girl anymore. I am stronger now. I am ready to face him. Once and for all.

Donald’s POV

The deadlines were drawing nearer by the minute, and the pressure from the investors was like an iron weight on my chest. Bulged numbers and the incessant ticking of the clock filled my mind. The idea of everything falling apart was too much to handle because I had so much riding on this in my head. I was unable to let anything slip.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the phone, which brought me back to the present. It was Rosa. The mere sight of her name made my heart sing.

"Where are you, baby? Please do not put yourself under too much stress. Despite the gentleness of her voice, there was a hint of worry that I could not help but feel.

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I’ve got a lot on my plate this week, but I’m getting through it. The investors are on my back, but I’ve got it under control. My manager’s handling everything else.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could almost feel her worry through the phone, the distance between us suddenly tangible. She eventually said, "Just... don’t burn yourself out," in a softer voice, and the call ended.

The silence in the room pressed down on me as I put down the phone. I briefly closed my eyes in an attempt to relieve the tension. But the unease from the conversation lingered, gnawing at me. Something wasn’t right with her. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew it.

A few days ago, we’d talked about visiting her parents. She’d seemed so eager at first. I could see it in her eyes, the way she lit up when she mentioned it. We’d set the date, planned everything out. But then, the day before we were supposed to go, she hesitated. First, she said she wasn’t feeling well. Then, she said it wasn’t the right time. I told her it was fine, that we could always reschedule. But it felt off—like she was pushing it further and further away. Now she travelled alone.

Why? What was she hiding?

I got up and shook my head, feeling the need to move and get out. Even for a couple of hours, I needed to take a break. I picked up my jacket and made my way to the club.

With its loud, flashing lights and the bass pulsing in my chest, the club was everything it had always been. However, it did not feel like a way out. It was not a relief; the music was a diversion. At the bar, my pals were having a good time while drinking a lot of alcohol. I joined them in an attempt to blend in and temporarily forget.

"Where is your future bride, Mr. To-be?" One of my friends gave me a back pat while making fun of me.

She is not into the club scene," I smirked and said. "My lady has style. This is not where you would find her.

"Well, bro, do not get caught up with a girl who has changed her ways," said another friend, laughing.

I let out a nervous chuckle, but it didn’t feel right. The words hung in the air, and for the first time tonight, they made me think about what had been bothering me all along. The way Rosa had been acting... distant. distracted. I was no longer able to ignore it. I wanted to think there was an easy explanation, something I could understand, something to do with work. However, it was beginning to feel like more.

Why had she postponed our visit to her parents? There was always a new excuse when I asked. However, the hesitancy in her voice stuck with me. She was concealing something, and despite my best efforts to ignore it, the thought kept nagging at the back of my mind.

I was struggling to get up from my seat. I called the driver to take me home, the weight of everything pressing back down on me. The night had done nothing to clear my head, and I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

My mind went back to her as I settled back into the car seat. Was there something I was missing? Was she telling the truth to me? Or did I simply fail to notice the rifts developing between us because I was too preoccupied with my own world? The questions persisted, unrelenting, and would not stop. And the doubts persisted despite my drinking.

I tried to convince myself that it was just the stress and that I was overanalyzing it. I knew in my heart that this was more than just work-related stress, though. There was something wrong with Rosa, and the burden on my chest would not go away until I discovered what it was.