Chapter 12
“Mum, do you love me?”
The question came out of nowhere one day.
She laughed, pretending it was okay, pretending it wasn’t a big deal, pretending it wasn’t important, pretending it wasn’t a joke, pretending it was just something that came to mind, but in reality, she was nervous about the answer.
She thought she was scared.
She swallowed again and again, not wanting to ask, but she couldn’t resist the urge that day.
It would be more accurate to say that her mouth moved on its own.
‘What if my mum thinks I’m weird?’
The moment was fleeting.
Her mother looked at her and said nonchalantly.
“Why do you ask me that out of the blue?”
“I was curious.”
“What parent doesn’t love their children? They love them all.”
“I see.”
“Now’s not the time to ask questions like that, you need to practice more, the competition is coming up.”
“Yeah. I will.”
She accepts his mum’s rebuke, but inwardly she’s not satisfied with the answer, so she asks a small question.
“You do love me, don’t you?”
“What did you hear in what I just said?”
“Hehe.”
“You should spend more time practising instead of thinking about such lowly and useless things.”
“Hehe. Yeah.”
I remember smiling at the pathetic stares and raising my bow. Mum does love me, She thought, for a moment.
But then, Mum.
Why do I feel like she doesn’t love me?
***
No matter how many times he’d been told that he was a cold-blooded man whose blood was made of ice, Mehen was a human being of flesh and blood.
There was no way that Arellin, who had been raised by his hands since she was a baby, didn’t have some degree of love for him.
“Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here.”
But he don’t need emotions to care for a child.
It doesn’t matter.
After all, he’s in a position to change at any moment…
So He just kept his distance.
He just cutting himself off from something that could become difficult.
“Hmphhh…”
But if he’d known it was going to do this, he should have punched it.
She thin, trembling body felt so light.
The body he held for the first time in a long time was so unchanged that he didn’t feel the passage of time. It was still small, still light.
‘Why is it so small?’
He didn’t know because he hadn’t held her in a long time.
Because once the parenting troupe was formed and he took over, he really only saw them occasionally.
He knew he wasn’t a great nurturer, but he thought he was at least a nurturer who gave them everything they needed.
Was I?
He don’t know. Kids have always been difficult, because they don’t show results or require quick decisions like a business.
‘You need to eat better, you’re going to gain weight.’
Mehen clicked his tongue, remembering Arellin, who couldn’t eat more than three bites of anything.
Still, the intermittent shaking of her body slowly settled into a familiar warmth.
“Mum…”
The child’s tiny hand wandered into the air and clutched the hem of Mehen’s robe.
“Mum…”
She missed her mum so much.
Her voice was so desperate, Arellin longed for a mum she’d never known.
The hand that kept reaching out in vain fell into the snow and caught it, steadying her sobs.
“…Mum.”
“I’m Mehen.”
“Mum…”
“Yes, who cares about titles, call me whatever you want.”
He sick and out of his mind. What’s the point of being corrected?
As the doctor fed her the medicine, placed a towel on her forehead, and held her to keep his temperature from dropping, Mehen wondered what the hell he was doing.
And yet.
“Mum…”
He have no regrets.
He don’t want to leave this place, even though the things he put off today will be back tomorrow, tenfold.
“Mum…”
He don’t know, maybe it’s because there are so many sleepless nights anyway.
The nursery troupe, deprived of their own work, stirred, but Mehen had no time to care about others right now.
The night passed.
The dawn shone in the sky, parting the darkness and heralding the dawn.
***
The beginning of an old nightmare is always the same. A grand piano lying on the floor.
She close her eyes and smell the tired scent of rosin. She open her eyes and find herself holding a violin and a bow in her hand.
And then, with a bang, the lights come on and the scene changes.
The grand hall.
The audience was gone, and there was only one person sitting gracefully in the judges’ box.
Mum.
“Mum wants my daughter to be…”
Mum was a beautiful person.
It wasn’t a mournful distortion, like any child’s praise of their mother.
She was a beautiful, talented person, and I was her daughter, the embodiment of that.
“Mum believes in her daughter.”
Yes, daughter, I believe in your talents.
“I know you can make your mum’s dreams come true.”
“I believe you.”
“You can, can’t you?”
The unaccompanied piano begins to play. The familiar music echoes through the hall. Memories she’s tried to stop and forget come flooding back.
She didn’t pick up the bow.
She stood there, unable to do anything but listen to the piano accompaniment, missing notes for the strings to fill in.
She stare at one person.
“Mum…”
Too far away.
So far away that she couldn’t even see her face. she couldn’t tell.
“Mum…”
Why did you do that to me? What did I do to you? Did you ever love me?
Do you still love me?
Her heart was still full of unasked questions. Unresolved emotions were still bubbling up inside her.
“Mum…”
But before all that.
Longing.
“Mum…”
She missed her.
“Mum…”
Are you going to go?
Are you going to leave me again?
“Mum, Mum…”
Don’t go.
Don’t leave me alone.
“Mum…”
Please.
Don’t leave me alone.
She should tell her, she should tell her not to go, but the words are choked up in her throat, as if something is holding them back.
All that comes out is me calling for her mum.
Is she going to leave again like this?
Will I miss her again?
Will I be alone again?
In the terrible, terrible darkness, all herself again…
“Shh, it’s okay.”
It was then. A voice that sounded both familiar and unfamiliar. An unfamiliar hand clasping her outstretched one.
“Mum…”
“Okay, I’m not going. I’ll stay here.”
Mum?
The hand that patted her back was clumsy, but so sweet.
“Mum…”
The hand holding her was so warm, the patting so affectionate, and she felt so relieved.
For the first time since she started having these nightmares, she slept peacefully.
And when she opened her eyes.
“…”
Mehen was in front of her.
***
“…”
“…”
eh?
“…”
“…Mum?”
Why mehen?
“Not my mum.”
She buffered, perhaps because the person she hadn’t expected was right in front of her.
“…”
“…”
A deathly silence. She tried to make sense of the situation.
Mehen holding me, a hand that felt like mine.
…Let me try to make sense of it.
“Are you all right?”
A low, tired voice asked. Even as he ruffled his hair, Mehen was checking her closely and attentively.
His long lashes and pale green eyes shone gold in the sunlight.
What a delicate beauty.
She wondered if fatigue had blunted his sharp features as his mood softened. She had seen his face so often, but it seemed different.
“Mum…”
Mehen continues, is she there?
Mehen’s body shuddered as he lifted his hand to check the heat on her forehead.
“That’s it.”
“Mum.”
“…”
She thought it was her mum.
It wasn’t. Was she alone.
Mehen winced as tears began to pool in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t mean to embarrass him.
She just…
It just seemed to always, always, break her down.
“Thankfully, the fever is down…”
Mehen sighed, his hands clutching the hem of his shirt.
“Mum, mum…”
Mehen frowned in confusion as he watched her repeat the same words over and over again.
“Sweetheart.”
“Mum…”
“Arellin.”
“Mum…”
“Ha.”
Mehen let out a deep sigh.
“Yeah, who cares about titles, call me whatever you want.”
That’s weird.
Why is he so sweet?
The Mehen she know isn’t this sweet. She thought he was going to kick her ass, but he said, ‘Call me whatever you want.’
“Mum…”
“…”
He looks confused, but he doesn’t push her away. It’s so weird, it makes her choke up.
Why?
“Mehen hates me.”
“I don’t … hate you.”
“You hate me.”
“I don’t hate… ha.”
Mehen made a frustrated face and ruffled his hair roughly.
“What could I possibly dislike about you?”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I made an impression.”
A pause.
“I said I was a pain in the arse.”
“…”
“You wanted to get rid of me, didn’t you?”
Mehen narrows his brow. The hand he reaches for her flinches. She lift her downcast gaze and look up, locking eyes with Mehen.
He lowers his gaze slightly, and she see an unknown emotion in his pale green eyes.
A slightly distorted expression, a troubled look, and yet, the light-green pupils wavered as if they were hurt.
I’ve never seen Mehen look like that before.
“I’m just…”
The meticulous man pursed his lips like a condemned man facing the gallows, unable to deny my words.
“Ha.”
A sigh, full of embarrassment.
He sigh at his own ugliness for being such a grump when he could have been nice.
But if her going to be alone in the end, she might as well be alone in the beginning.
Even as she mutter this to herself, she notice her hand stubbornly clutching the hem of Mehen’s robe, but she keep her mouth shut.
“Lady.”
“…”
“Arellin.”
“…”
“Arel.”
“…!”
Startled by the unfamiliar nickname, she reflexively looked up to find a pair of eyes staring down at her, pale green in the morning sunlight.
They were still wild-eyed and troubled, but there was a kindness in them that captivated her.
He wrinkled his nose at her shrinking back, then sighed.
“Arel.”
She see Mehen’s large, delicate hands. A gentle, warm, clumsy hand rests on her head.
