The First Time

A heavy silence settled between Dahlia and Asher after he finished speaking. Dahlia pressed her index fingers to the bridge of her nose, her thoughts swirling as she considered his words.

Her silence was unbearable for Asher.

“Please, say something,” he pleaded, his brown eyes soft with desperation.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Dahlia finally replied with a deep sigh, gesturing helplessly before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Say you’ll come back. Not for me, but for Chloe,” Asher said earnestly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of guilt. “She’s been reckless and heartbroken without you, and I want to make things right.”

Dahlia sighed, the weight of his words pulling her into contemplation. “It’s not that simple, sir.”

“Why isn’t it? Is it because of me? I know I messed up, but can’t we look past my shortcomings? Chloe is—” Asher began, but Dahlia cut him off.

“I leave for London… tomorrow,” she disclosed again, her tone quiet but firm.

“Stay… please,” Asher muttered softly, his voice filled with passion and genuine emotion.

Dahlia hesitated before speaking, her voice trembling. “I… I can’t. I have to be there. It’s urgent.”

“Can’t it wait?” Asher pressed, his words laced with quiet desperation.

“No, it can’t,” Dahlia replied, her tone resolute. Then her voice softened, and tears welled in her eyes as she continued, “My sister’s leukemia is back.”

Asher's mouth fell open in surprise. Embarrassment washed over him, and he instantly regretted his earlier words. He wiped a hand over his face, his eyes softening with understanding and silent apology.

"I'm so sorry. I was so caught up in my own life that I didn’t—” he began.

Dahlia cut him off. “No, it’s not your fault.” she said with a sigh. Gathering her composure, she continued, “Sir, you’re rich, and I know that's not your fault. You worked hard to get where you are, and everything fell into place for you. But that’s not the case for everyone. Some of us just… have it bad. And I’m one of them. Things in my family have never been picture-perfect, and as the eldest daughter, I had to step up when my dad died.”

Her voice trembled as she paused, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her. “Sir, I need a lot of money—roughly £200,000 or more. Since I don’t have a job or any means of livelihood, there’s nothing stopping me from leaving. My mother has found a job back home, and if I go there, I know we can figure things out and save my sister.”

Her eyes glistened as she added, "I love Chloe, I really do, but I love my sister more. I hope you can understand.”

Asher’s eyes grew moist. “I’m such a fool for not understanding—”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault,” Dahlia interrupted, her voice soft but tinged with weariness. She sighed, the sound heavy with unspoken emotions.

Asher opened his mouth to speak but held back. Her sigh told him her heart was burdened with words, and he wanted her to feel safe enough to share them with him.

He noticed the subtle gestures that betrayed her hesitation—the way she rubbed the small pendant around her neck, bit her lower lip, and shifted her weight uneasily. When she finally tucked her hair behind her ears and clasped her hands together, he realized she was ready to talk.

Her gaze remained fixed on the floor as she let out a bitter laugh. “It’s just… my dad was a taxi driver, and my mom worked as a cook in some not-too-fancy restaurant in London. When they got married, they thought life would change for them, that at some point they’d catch a big break and everything would finally be alright. But… that never happened… until my father died.”

She paused, sniffing softly and drawing a deep breath to steady herself. 

“How did he die?” Asher asked gently, his voice low, careful not to stir her buried emotions.

“Car accident,” Dahlia replied firmly, a trace of anger coloring her tone as if the memory had dragged her back to that day. 

She relived it all for just a moment and it only made the pain in her heart hurt harder.

Asher sighed softly, a wave of pity washing over him. He didn’t know what to say—no, he knew that nothing he said could ever ease the ache in her heart. He had been there before. Still was.

“Some drunk driver drove with care, and my father paid the price for his mistake,” Dahlia explained, her voice tightening. “He was on his way to pick up my younger sister. It’s the kind of thing that… you just… you never think it'll happen—not so soon, anyway. You know it’s inevitable, but still… we had plans. And then suddenly, they’re just… gone. Unfulfilled. Useless.”

Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over despite her effort to hold them back. Quickly, she wiped them away, determined not to appear vulnerable in front of Asher.

“Believe me, I know how that feels,” Asher said, his voice laced with sincerity.

“For over two weeks after my father’s death, my mother cried endlessly, cursing him with every tear. She was angry—angry that he’d left her alone to care for us. Every day, she’d sit in her room, staring at his picture, and ask, Who will care for them like you used to? What can I say to make everything better?” Dahlia paused, her voice cracking as she remembered it all vividly. “She refused to eat, refused to work… she just became… reckless.”

Her tears overtook her, words failing to form as grief pressed against her chest. She held onto it, feeling a surge of undeniable pain which she couldn't describe, her hands trembling. Her mouth parted open, but no words came, only the silent quivering of her lips.

“Dahlia… are you—” Asher’s deep voice broke the silence, heavy with concern. Rising to his feet, he moved to sit beside her, his gaze full of worry.

“I… I…” Dahlia stammered, her mouth still open as if forcing her brain to speak the words out. But the pain, sharp and unrelenting within her heart silenced her completely.

“It’s okay. It’s fine,” Asher murmured, drawing her closer in a friendly, comforting embrace.

“I… I… I miss him,” Dahlia sobbed uncontrollably, clutching her chest as if trying to hold herself together while her emotions poured out.

“I know. I know. I know,” Asher repeated softly, his voice comforting as he rubbed her back in gentle circles.

Dahlia cried as if today was the day she had received the news of her father’s accident. Tears streamed down her face, mingling with the faint sound of stifled sniffs. She buried her face in her hands, trying to hide the depth of her anguish, but it was unmistakable.

It took a long while for her sobs to subside and even longer for her breathing to steady. Without a word, Asher reached into his breast pocket and handed her a neatly folded, brown handkerchief.

A heavy, almost uncomfortable silence settled between them as Dahlia wiped her face, the occasional sniff breaking the stillness. Asher stayed quiet, knowing better than to speak. He simply watched her, giving her the space and time she needed.

It was the first time he had seen her so vulnerable. And as Dahlia stared down at the handkerchief in her hands, searching for the courage to voice her deepest pain, Asher’s gaze softened. He realized, with a pang of guilt, that he might have been too harsh on her before.

“You know…” Dahlia began, her voice rough from crying. She cleared her throat gently, catching Asher’s full attention.

“It’s the first time…” she whispered, her tone solemn and introspective.

“Hmm?” Asher prompted, his voice careful and polite.

“It’s the first time I’ve actually cried about my father’s death,” Dahlia said, the words slipping out with intention, her gaze locking onto Asher’s.