After I Finally Became His Perfect Donna Chapter 12

After I Finally Became His Perfect Donna Chapter 12

After class, Julian didn’t leave right away. He stayed at the podium, packing up his things.

A cluster of students surrounded him with questions. He answered each one patiently, glancing up now and

then at the last row to make sure I was still there.

When the crowd thinned, he walked over and looked down at me. “How was it?”

“It was good,” I said. “You’re a really good teacher.”

He smiled briefly and sat down in the seat next to mine. “You like literature?”

I honestly didn’t know.

I’d barely attended any literature classes. The only one I remembered, the teacher had played a documentary

and the whole class cried.

“I…” I thought about it. “I like listening to you tell stories.”

The moment it came out, I felt stupid. Like a grade-schooler complimenting her teacher.

But Julian didn’t laugh at me. He looked me in the eyes, completely serious.

“Then come to every class from now on.”

I opened my mouth to say he didn’t have to, that I felt bad about sitting in for free.

But his gaze was too clear. So clean it made the refusal die on my tongue.

“Okay,” I said.

From that day on, I went to Julian’s class every week.

On the walk back, he’d ask if I understood the lecture. When I said yes, he’d smile and ask me to retell it.

My retellings were a mess. He never corrected me. He just listened, nodding now and then.

“You tell it better than I do,” he said.

“Liar.”

“Really.” He paused. “Because you have empathy. When you tell a story, it has warmth.”

I didn’t really understand what empathy meant. But if he said it had warmth, then I guess it had warmth.

When we reached the seafood stall, my father was closing up. The moment he saw Julian, his face split into

a grin.

“Julian! Stay for dinner tonight!”

Julian always said “No, no, I couldn’t,” but he always stayed for dinner.

My mother was so charmed by his compliments she couldn’t stop beaming. She pulled me aside and whispered, “That Julian is such a good man. Milo, what do you think?”

I didn’t answer. I just ducked my head and shoveled rice into my mouth.

So what if he was a good man? What did that have to do with me?

I wasn’t Lyra anymore.

The old Lyra could laugh and tease and blush. She could stand on tiptoe in the pouring rain and kiss someone on the lips. She could swear with her whole heart, “You’re the only one I’ll ever love.”

Milo couldn’t do any of that.

All Milo could do was keep her head down, keep her back bent, and whenever someone was kind to her,

spiral into anxious panic.

How do I repay this?

What do I have to do so they won’t be disappointed?

Did I do something wrong again?

My mother saw me go quiet and sighed. She placed a piece of braised pork in my bowl.

I didn’t have the heart to tell her I couldn’t really eat meat anymore.

At the Academy, meat was a reward. You only got a small piece when you’d performed well.

I never performed well. So I ate nothing but plain food for five years, and my stomach could barely handle

meat now.

But I didn’t want her to worry, so I finished the pork.

That night I tossed and turned with stomach cramps until dawn.

A few days later, while I was cookingfried rice at the stall, a student mentioned offhandedly that Julian was

almost thirty and had never been in a relationship.

My spatula paused mid-flip.

After class on Thursday, he walked me back as usual. I hesitated the whole way, but in the end I couldn’t help

myself.

“Julian, do you live alone?”

His step faltered. He glanced at me. “Yeah. Alone.”

“Doesn’t it get lonely?”

He thought for a moment. “Sometimes.”

“But compared to being with someone and feeling even lonelier, being alone is actually better.”

I didn’t fully understand, but somehow it felt exactly right.

By the time we reached the seafood stall, the sky was nearly dark.

I was about to go help out when the screech of brakes erupted behind me.

Julian’s expression changed instantly. His body shifted to shield half of mine.

“Milo.” He said my name, his voice pressed low. “Go inside. Now.”

Before I could process what was happening, the car door opened.

I saw Dorian’s face.

He’d lost a lot of weight. The skin beneath his eyes was bruised dark, like he hadn’t slept a full night in

weeks.

He walked toward me. One step. Two steps. Three.

With every step, my body shook harder.

“Lyra.”

His voice trembled when he said my name. His eyes were red-rimmed. “You’re not dead… you’re really not

dead…”

His hand reached out, trying to touch my face.

I lurched back a step and collided with Julian’s shoulder.

Julian extended his arm, placing himself firmly between us. “Sir, she doesn’t want to see you.”

Dorian’s gaze swept over Julian. Something dark flickered in his eyes, but he forced it down.

He looked at me, his voice so soft it was barely there. “Lyra, I’m here to take you home.”

Home. The word hit my stomach like a fist, and nausea rolled through me.

“I don’t know you.” I heard myself say it, summoning every scrap of courage I had.

Dorian froze, as if he’d been slapped. “Lyra…”

“My name isn’t Lyra.”

I raised my head and looked him in the eyes. “My name is Milo. I don’t know you. Please leave.”

His face went white. He looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t dare.

My mother’s voice came from behind me, sharp with alarm. “Who are you? What do you want with Milo?”

My father came around the corner carrying an iron rack, planting himself in front of my mother.

Dorian looked at the scene before him. His voice was hoarse. “She’s my wife.”

“No, she isn’t.” Julian’s voice was perfectly calm. “She’s Milo. She’s the daughter of this family.”

Dorian drew a deep breath. He ignored Julian entirely and turned to me.

“Lyra, I know you don’t want to see me right now. That’s fine. I can wait. I have all the time in the world.”

He said it, then turned and got back in the car.

I stood rooted to the spot, shaking from head to toe.

Julian turned around, looked down at me, his voice gentle. “It’s over.”

I looked up, trying to force a smile, trying to tell him I was fine.

But the tears fell first.