The Only Thing I Wanted Was A Place In The Family Album Chapter 04

The Only Thing I Wanted Was A Place In The Family Album Chapter 04

The train wasn’t leaving until the afternoon, so I gave myself plenty of time to pack.

I had been too afraid to use any of the expensive gifts Jonathan and my mother had given me over the years.

Now, I packed them into my suitcase.

Around noon the next day, I called Jonathan to tell him I was leaving.

Before I could even speak, he said coldly, “If you’re calling to talk about coming home, just stop right there. Chloe was upset all last night. Mom’s blood pressure spiked, she almost ended up in the hospital.”

“It took me all night to calm her down. I can’t talk about this anymore.”

I sighed. “Can we meet? I need to tell you something.”

He didn’t hesitate to refuse. “Another day. I’m taking Chloe shopping today.”

“Okay.” I didn’t say anything else, just hung up and kept packing.

When I opened the bedside drawer, a picture frame fell out.

One look and my eyes welled up. I quickly bent to pick it up.

It was a photo of my foster parents, the only thing I brought with me to Fairhaven.

We were poor in the village, but my foster parents were good to me.

They gave me the best meat and scrimped and saved to send me to school.

Most girls back home married young. When I turned eighteen, someone came to arrange a marriage for me.

They chased her away, saying their daughter was meant for something better and wouldn’t marry so early.

If they could see me now, sneaking away with nothing…

They’d probably be worried sick up in heaven.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and put the framed photo into my suitcase.

There was still about a hundred thousand dollars left in my bank account, leftover allowance from Jonathan.

I inventoried the bags and jewelry in my suitcase and decided to sell them when I got back home.

That would give me another hundred thousand or so.

I guess coming to Fairhaven wasn’t a total loss.

With that thought to comfort myself, I grabbed my suitcase and left the house I’d lived in for three years.

But I ran right into Jonathan at the mall. He was carrying a bunch of shopping bags, accompanying Chloe.

Our eyes met, and he quickly walked over to me.

“Why do you have your suitcase? Are you trying to go home by yourself? Didn’t I say to wait?”

“I came to sell my bags and jewelry.”

“What? Where did you even get the money for those bags?”

I’d only said one sentence before Chloe exploded.

She looked at Jonathan, then lunged at me like a madwoman, snatching my suitcase.

She ripped it open, and everything fell out, not just the bags and jewelry, but my underwear too.

Passersby stopped to stare. Humiliated, I clenched my hands and bent down to gather everything.

Jonathan’s face changed, and he grabbed my wrist.

“Do I not give you enough money? You have to sell your things?”

“If you don’t care about your reputation, the Hart family does. Pick your stuff up and get back home!”

“Let go of me!” I shook him off, frantically shoving my underwear and bags back into the suitcase.

Chloe kicked the suitcase, flipping it over.

“You hillbilly! Keeping designer bags in the same suitcase as your underwear! You don’t deserve any of this! Tell me, did you beg Jonathan to buy them for you?”

The crowd grew larger. Seeing the cracked photo of my foster parents, my mind went blank.

“Chloe.” Jonathan pulled her back, his face dark for once. “Can you control yourself in public? People are staring. Stop yelling!”

Chloe shook off his hand, arguing back. But I couldn’t hear them.

The glass in the picture frame had shattered, tearing my foster parents’ picture.

My hands trembling, I picked it up and slowly stood.

Chloe’s mouth kept moving, still arguing with Jonathan.

“Monster!” Everything came crashing back. I shouted, raised my hand, and swung it at her face.

“Amelia!” Jonathan yelled, startled. He pulled Chloe behind him and caught my wrist. “What are you doing?”

“Let go!” I screamed and struggled. My slap didn’t land on Chloe’s face.

The fury inside me had nowhere to go. I felt like I was suffocating.

And then, Chloe took the opportunity and slapped me hard across the face.

My head snapped to the side.

Her chest heaved. “You dare try to hit me?”

Jonathan, still holding my wrist, froze for a second, then let go as if he’d been burned.

After five long seconds of silence, I turned my head back.

When he met my icy stare, his pupils trembled. “Amelia… let’s talk this through. This isn’t the place for a fight…”

“There’s nothing left to say.” I cut him off, glanced at the mess on the ground, then turned and walked away through the crowd.

None of that stuff was mine anyway.

About thirty minutes later, Jonathan called me. His voice was unusually gentle. “Amelia, where are you? I just dropped Chloe off at home. Can we please talk?”

[Attention passengers for train 237 to Willow Creek: please proceed to Gate 3 for boarding.]

The announcement echoed through the departure hall.

Jonathan’s breath hitched. Panic crept into his voice. “You’re… you’re at the train station?”

I held the cracked photo of my foster parents.

Walking toward the gate, I said quietly, “Yeah. I’m going home.”

“Don’t worry. Not your home. My own.”