I blinked, and a single tear escaped, tracing a warm path down my cheek.
“Why? You were worried if someone bought stuff for her. And now you are upset that someone did?” Emmet raised his thick brow to his brother in sarcasm, displaying a clear hint that he wasn’t pleased with his remarks.
“Is this how she convinces you to do things for her?” Norman sneered, noticing my tears. I hastily wiped my face with the back of my hand, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“She didn’t say anything to me and neither has she asked me to buy her anything. You need to stop thinking like we brothers are God and people beg before us in order to get anything. As for me, I know what I need to do and what I should buy for my stepsister,” there was such a harshness in Emmet’s voice that he left me shocked.
I didn’t want the brothers to be pinned against each other because of me.
“Here!” Emmet said, walking back and holding the bag out toward me. “A gift from your elder stepbrother for qualifying for admission.” His voice was light, but his eyes searched mine as he held the bag patiently.
I hesitated, my gaze darting to Maximus and Norman. Norman’s judgmental headshake was enough to make me shrink back.
“I can’t accept this,” I murmured, shaking my head. “But thanks for thinking of me.” With that, I rushed out of the office, my heart pounding.
I didn’t want his brothers thinking I was some lowlife rogue taking advantage of their kindness. I wanted to prove myself, not give them more reasons to ridicule me.
Briskly, I stepped outside, gulping down the cold evening air. The weather had turned somber-dark clouds gathered ominously, and the sharp breeze whipped at my face. I didn’t hear footsteps behind me; I thought I was alone. I was too lost in my swirling thoughts.
“And where do you go from here?” Emmet’s voice came suddenly from behind me, startling me. I spun around to face him, my heart skipping a beat.
The wind tousled his long hair, making it flow in the storm like something out of a painting. His calm demeanor, however, stood in contrast to the wild weather.
“You ran off like you had somewhere important to be,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his tone. His words referred to my hasty exit-and the fact that I’d rushed out without even collecting my hostel key.
“Oh,” I muttered, unable to meet his gaze. Embarrassment crept into my chest, squeezing my lungs. I just wanted to dig myself a grave and hide it from everyone’s eyes.
“Helanie, are you really going to let them control your life like this?” he asked, his voice soft but heavy with meaning. A sigh escaped his lips as he waited for me to respond, the weight of his question settling over us both.
“By letting them make decisions for you, you’re only proving them right-that by bullying you, they can shape you however they please,” he said, his words laced with quiet wisdom. I watched his face closely as he spoke, noticing the spark in his eyes and the strength in his veiny hands, one holding a bag and the other clutching a folder. The bag was huge, what did he buy?
“Did you have breakfast?” he asked. I shook my head slightly.
“Well, I haven’t either. How about you come with me to a caf? in a nearby pack? We can talk more once we sit down.”
There was no question in his tone; he was simply telling me I was coming with him. I didn’t want his brothers to think they could control me, yet I also couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. So, I followed him to his car.
“In the passenger seat, Helanie-I’m not your driver,” he teased, his face still serious, but he held the door open for me. I slipped inside, trying to understand why he was always so kind, seemingly without any flaw.
Once I settled in, he took the driver’s seat, hands firm on the steering wheel. I sensed he truly had something important to discuss with me.
Helanie:
“They have the best coffee,” Emmet said as he placed an order for both of us. He ordered a variety of dishes, making it clear he was ready to devour them all.
He had casually rolled up his sleeves, even the cuffs of his coat, without a second thought about ruining the sharp creases.
The weather was pleasant. This pack was a small one but I believe they had some affiliation with the rogue king.
“I’m sorry for not accepting that bag. I just don’t want your brothers to think I’m a gold digger,” I said, initiating the topic myself. Sitting across from him made my cheeks flush with heat.
“Why do you care what they think?” he asked, his gaze steady. “You see, they’ve realized that by calling you a gold digger, they can manipulate you. The moment you stop accepting help, they win. Tell me something.”
He leaned back in his seat, awkwardly trying to adjust his legs under the small table without touching mine. The space was cramped, and his tall, broad-shouldered frame made it even more challenging.
“Have you always been this quiet? Always so concerned about what others think of you?” he asked. His question made me nod instinctively, without hesitation. That was exactly how I had lived my life until now.
Every day, I’d feel self-conscious when delivering baked goods to the pack members, overhearing their whispered remarks. If someone commented that my dress looked too tight, I’d starve myself to loosen it because I couldn’t afford to buy new clothes.
It happened often.
I’d even change my hairstyle just to avoid giving the pack members any reason to criticize me.
“And how did that go?” he asked gently. “Did it make you everyone’s favorite?”
Tears pricked my eyes as I shook my head, unable to respond.
“I see. Then why try so hard?” he continued, his voice softer now. “Instead of living to please others, why not just focus on doing the right thing? I’m not asking you to lose your mind or act recklessly, but you don’t need to let your world revolve around what others think of you.”
The more he spoke, the more memories of my time in the pack resurfaced, each word cutting deeper.
“Helanie, let me give you a simple example,” he said, his tone taking on a reflective quality. “Imagine two brothers. One tries desperately to be perfect-always punctual, always doing whatever he thinks will earn him approval from his parents. The other just acts like himself. He works hard, does the right thing, but doesn’t linger around for praise or worry about what people think.”
He paused, his eyes drifting as if lost in thought. Adjusting his collar with long, slender fingers, he continued, “Now, when the first brother-the perfect one-makes even the smallest mistake, everyone pounces on it. They say, ‘Ah! The mask slipped. See, we knew you weren’t so perfect after all.’ But when the other brother, who doesn’t even care about impressing anyone, does the smallest kind gesture, everyone appreciates him. They say, ‘See? We knew he was good at heart.’”
He finished speaking and focused on my face, studying me to see if I understood his point.
“My point is, no matter what you do, people will always find a way to criticize you. If you’re perceived as bad, they’ll constantly remind you that you’re capable of doing good. But if you’re too good or seemingly perfect, they’ll search for flaws in you. So, do things for yourself, not for the approval of others. Don’t be entirely selfish-do good, but not for the reaction it will get.”
He gestured to the bag sitting on the chair beside him. “That’s why I’m telling you this. I bought all this for you as a gift for your first day at the academy, and I want you to keep it.”
I glanced at the bag, then back at him, flashing a small smile. He was so cool.
“You explain things so well,” I complimented him. He shrugged, brushing off the praise as the food arrived.
“Please, help yourself,” he said, pointing at the dishes. Clearly, he had no time for more conversation once the food was in front of him. He began devouring sandwiches one after another. I was astonished to see how a large sandwich disappeared in just two bites.
Well, I should’ve known. For someone his size, food was clearly fuel.
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