HER PAST IS HERS

JULIAN’S POINT OF VIEW

The night air was filled with the harsh scent of tobacco and the distant murmur and cars of the city below. I leaned back in my chair and watched the scenery with great interest, the familiar weight of a cigarette between my fingers.

The balcony of my study had always been my refuge…. A place where my past, the heavy weight of my past don't suffocate me as much as my room did. It was a place where I can boldly let go of my problems without feeling guilty about it.

All of a sudden, the door creaked open behind me, the sound echoing through the stillness, as it tore me away from my thoughts. I didn't need to go around to know who it was. I needed no soothsayer to point it out.

Only one person would ever barge into my space without knocking. His presence had always been like a storm rolling in uninvited.

My unfilial son! Somehow I had gotten used to his obnoxious behaviour. I just had to force myself.

"Still poisoning yourself huh, old man?" His voice was sharp, laced with that same condescension he’d mastered since he was a teenager.

I exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl into the darkness. "Still telling me how to live my life, boy?"

He scoffed as he stepped forward until he was leaning against the railing beside me. Through the moonlight shining brightly on the balcony, I caught the hard lines of his face and at once I knew that he was furious. He had lots of things to say to me and I couldn't wait to hear them, although I could already guess that it had something to do with my new wife.

He was my son, but sometimes, looking at him felt like staring at a stranger.

"I didn’t come here to watch you kill yourself slowly, old man," he muttered. The way he always addressed me as an old man, one who didn't know better would have thought that I was in my eighties, but boy, I was just in my forties….. though late forties.

"Then why did you come, Ethan?"

The silence stretched between us. He didn't say anything and I wasn't ready to. Therefore I just sat there taking long drags from the tobacco in my hands.

He shifted, as his fingers tapped impatiently against the railing. I could practically almost hear the gears turning in his head, the way they always did when he was about to drop some bomb he thought would shatter my world.

If only he knows that my world was shattered already and nothing else was new.

"Lexi," he finally spat out. "You really have no idea the kind of woman you’re married to, do you?"

I took another drag, the smoke burning my lungs. Hearing her name on his lips caused a ripple of want to wash over me. Lately, my mind has been occupied with nothing but the thoughts of my new wife. The defiant tilt of her chin, her brown eyes when they glared daggers at me, her hot body. Heck, everything about her keeps drawing her to me and it took everything for me not to call her up here and make love to her until she was breathless. It still feels surreal to know that she was in my arms, in my life as my wife.

I could vividly remember the first time I'd set my eyes on her. That was way before she was sent to prison for a crime she didn't commit. She smiled and waved at me. I had plans to go up to her and ask her to be my girlfriend, but when I realised that she was my son's girlfriend, I held myself. I didn't want to come in between her and my son's relationship.

But now, I realised that there was no need for me to hold back. And now, she's right in my arms.

Indeed God has perfect timing.

"Enlighten me." I stated in the calmest voice that I could muster.

A smirk crept its way to his lips, the kind that told me he had some unseen agenda. It wasn't just an ordinary smirk. It was mischievous.

‘What plans does he have up his sleeves?’ I couldn't help but wonder as I stared at his face.

"She was a prostitute. A common whore. And not just any whore— mine. I fucked her more times than I can count. I'm sure you didn't know this, right?"

The words hung in the air and I knew more than anyone that he wanted a reaction. He wanted me to flinch, to rage, to crumble. But I wouldn't. Why would I, when I was the one who fucking took her virginity on that bed that night. How could she possibly be a whore?

I needed no soothsayer to tell me that he was just trying to paint her bad before me so I could let her go and he'd snatch her. Too bad, that's not working. Lexi is mine now and I'm never letting her go. Not now. Not ever. He didn't have to know that she was a virgin when I met her, although the circumstances of our first meeting was awkward. Yeah, we were both drunk.

I crushed the cigarette against the ashtray, the ember dying with a hiss. "Is that all you came here to say, son?"

His smirk faltered. "You are seriously okay with that? With being married to some used-up whore? Some whore that I've asked my friends to fuck and do whatever they wanted with her? The same whore that your son has fucked countless times that he can count, huh? You are seriously okay with that, old man—"

"Careful," I cut in, in a low voice. "That’s my wife you are talking about."

"Your wife?" He barked a laugh. "She’s a gold-digging slut who played you. And you are just gonna sit here and pretend it doesn’t matter?"

I studied him—the way his fists clenched, the way his jaw ticked. This wasn’t about Lexi. This was about control. About him needing to prove something, to me, to himself.

"Her past is hers," I said evenly. "What matters is who she is now. And unlike you, she’s never tried to manipulate me to get what she wants."

His face darkened. "You are really that blind? Or are you just desperate to get into her pants?" He asked through gritted teeth, but I didn't answer. There is nothing to prove to him after all.

Instead, I stood, the chair scraping against the stone floor. "We are done here, son."

For a moment, he just stared at me, his chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. Then, with a sound of disgust, he turned and stormed out, the door slamming behind him hard enough to rattle the frames on the wall.

The silence rushed back in.

I reached for another cigarette, rolling it between my fingers before lighting it. Some battles aren't worth fighting.

And some sons weren’t worth saving. And as for Ethan, I don't care what he thinks about my wife. Not when I was the one who stole her virginity.