Confusion piled upon confusion. Being married to a virtual enemy was shocking enough, but a child? The child, oblivious, folded paper, intent on making flowers for parents they hadn’t seen in a long time.
From a short distance, Ares materialized silently. “May I speak with you for a moment?” His words, laced with implication, were contradicted by his casual act of sitting down opposite her. Kirine’s brow furrowed involuntarily, but she propped her chin and responded indifferently, “What is it?”
“About the ones who orchestrated this mess,” Ares said.
“Fine,” Kirine sighed. Prolonging it wouldn’t help. Now that they had a chance to talk, Ares initiated the conversation. “So, how much do you remember exactly?”
“Just that I’m twenty. You?”
“Same.”
“Then who do you think is behind this? Maybe someone with a grudge against you?”
“There are plenty who wouldn’t exactly miss the chance to screw with you either,” Ares countered.
“More than you?”
What began as a serious discussion ignited as their emotions flared. They decided to cool down and revisit the suspect list later.
One major question still loomed. “Is she really our daughter…?” Ares’ gaze drifted back to the child, his confusion etched on his face.
“Do you think she’d lie?” Kirine questioned. While she, too, found it difficult to believe, the thought that the child could be deceiving them never entered her mind.
When they mentioned an important guest, Kirine sighed heavily, I never imagined it would be our daughter… Realizing they needed to address the elephant in the room, she turned to Ares. “What are we going to do about the amnesia and the whole divorce thing?”
“Of course we need to talk about it,” Ares said. “We can’t hide it from the kid forever.”
His use of “the kid” revealed his struggle to accept the girl as his daughter. It was a subtle detail but spoke volumes.
A glimmer of hope flickered in Kirine’s eyes. “Then you should be the one to tell her.”
Ares’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”
“I can’t do it,” she insisted. “You tell her.”
A beat of stunned silence followed. He quickly recovered, a sly smirk playing on his lips. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“No, I think you’ll be fine,” she countered, a playful glint in her eyes. “So, you tell her.”
The playful banter stalled. Just as Kirine leaned back, arms crossed, convinced she’d won the argument, Ares rose with surprising resolve. His steps towards the child were firm.
“Hey, kid,” he addressed the girl, who was meticulously folding paper with her tiny hands.
The child slowly lifted her head, her gaze meeting Ares’s. A puff of displeasure inflated her chubby cheeks as she retorted, “Daddy, I’m not a kid anymore. I’m all grown up now.”
Ares sputtered, momentarily speechless. He cleared his throat, then called out tentatively, “Right, Sasha.”
“Yes, Daddy? Why?” Sasha’s head snapped up, her unusually bright purple eyes wide with curiosity.
But Ares remained silent, his fingers unconsciously rubbing his neck. It was clear being called “Daddy” felt foreign to him.
“Daddy?” Sasha prompted again, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.
Only after a second, barely audible attempt at words, did Ares finally return to Kirine, defeated.
“What was that supposed to be? I thought you wanted to tell her?” Kirine, who had been observing the scene with quiet amusement, couldn’t resist a playful jab. “Oh, so suddenly it’s too difficult? Who was it who said we couldn’t keep it from the kid?”
Ares, clearly feeling caught in his own words, slumped back in his chair, unable to muster a defense.