Falling for the Villain

My throat ached. “So what happened?”

“It was hard.” Mom smiled, reaching for my hand. “It was hell, actually, but we fought for each other, and when… when we found out that you were the result of something that could have broken us, we realized that when you forgive, sometimes you’re given a gift. You were that gift, Juliet. From the very first day I held you, I knew that you were mine.”

My tears seared, sliding down my cheeks. “What was she like?”

“She was beautiful.” She placed a piece of hair behind my ears. “She was kind. She was selfless. She loved you very much. It was the hardest thing for her to do. To give you up. Hand you over to us.”

I didn’t know what to say, staying quiet instead.

“The day we found out she was murdered… It tore your father apart. He wanted to save her. We all did. For you. For Donovan.”

“Did you know Donovan before she was killed?”

“He was a sweet boy. Gentle. Nurturing. Life has a way of making choices for you, Juliet. His fate was established the moment he was born.”

“Do you think he’s a villain? A monster? A sociopath?”

“Sweetheart, I’m married to your father, and with that comes every demon known to man. This life isn’t easy, and it’s not made for the weak. Your brother is just as ruthless as…” She hesitated for a second.

“As Donovan?”

“We all have a bad and good side. It’s what makes us human.”

I looked down at the scars on my legs from Troy. They would heal, and eventually, physically, I would be all right; emotionally, I didn’t want them to disappear. They were a reminder of what happened when the devil prevailed. They were also a reminder of what I’d felt, seen, lived through.

It all led back to Donovan. He didn’t inflict these scars; however, they made me remember that he saved my life, proving to be my hero after all.

“I love you, Mom.”

“I know you do, sweetie!” Mom laughed sadly. “And I love you. It’s why I can’t let you sit here anymore in your room. It’s why I told Romeo and your father that this time I was taking charge. They’re both silently pouting in the living room, by the way. We’ll see how much whiskey we have left after they watch you leave.”

My head jerked up. “Are we going on vacation?”

“No.” She got up and went toward my closet, and pulled out a bag. “For now, pack a few light things; you’ll need new clothes soon. Make sure to take your charger, and don’t forget your laptop; though, I’m sure he could afford a new one. That man is richer than two of our families combined.” She chuckled. “I’ll miss you. Please visit often, call, and don’t forget to let us know about the baby. Take the test, and confirm my suspicions.” She cupped my cheeks. “You’re pregnant … your love made a baby.”

“I want the baby so bad, I want—” I broke down into hard sobs. “What if he doesn’t want me, though? What if he turns me away?”

“What if he does?” Mom asked. “Then what?”

“Then…” I sobbed. “My life is over.”

“No.” She clung to my hand and pressed both of our palms against my stomach. “No matter what he says, your life has just begun. The only question is—are you brave enough to fight for it? Your child needs a father, and I have full faith your captor will be your savior. For both of you.”

“You don’t think I’m weak for loving him and wanting to go back to his life?”

“Weakness is just another form of strength. You were never his hostage, Juliet. If you were, I know with certainty that you wouldn’t love and want to go back to him.”

“Do you forgive him?”

“I don’t need to. You do. This is your life, and you only get one chance to live it how you please. I chose my demons the day I said, ‘I do.’ Now it’s your turn to choose yours.”

“Did you forgive Daddy? For me?”

She smiled a huge loving expression. “Of course. Even if we could go back and change things, I wouldn’t. His mistake conceived you, and I wouldn’t take that back for anything.”

I touched my belly.

Thinking about all the possibilities.

Could I do this?

I stood up and walked toward the bathroom. The moment of truth wasn’t when I realized I loved him.

No.

It was when I learned that I was pregnant.

Donovan

I was sitting on the bench of my mother’s piano, playing Ludovico Einaudi’s “I Giorni” for what felt like the hundredth fucking time. For the last seven weeks, this was what I did with my spare moments. I’d sit here and play this tune until my fingers felt as if they were bleeding.

Not for my mother like I did in the past.