Roots and Books

Liberosis : Interlude

It's back, that crushing feeling. The one that hounds that you REALLY shouldn't be here right now. The one that wishes you should be dead. I could have cared less about what happened thirteen years ago.

Thirteen years ago. Thirteen goddamn years ago.

I swear, if I had one, just one more chance, I would have grabbed twenty-five-year-old me by the neck in a chokehold and told myself to get up and fight, not let myself be hidden in the safely of the panic room.

But nooooooo, time travel hasn't been discovered yet. Hooray for loser me!

"MOSELLE! Chop the vegetables for the soup already, I can hear the self-deprecating thoughts from here!" Nicolas shouted out, fucking hate that dude. No, I don't. I grumbled, continuing to chop the Bok choy resting on the cutting board in front of me.

Where'd he even get his hands on Bok choy? Do we live near anywhere that sells it? Whatever, grateful for the in-laws! Honestly, without Nicolas I'd be out on the streets. Well, more like because of... Oh, my poor... Jeez, what's in this stupid vegetable? Can't be tearing up over something that long ago, can I? Just keep in the moment, Moselle.

Moselle. Moselle Osburn married to Cavalier Osburn, deceased at twenty-six, adopted son of Lux Osburn and Nicolas Allard, and heir to their fortunes.

Well, He WAS the heir, now I just get his stupid trust fund and old room. How can I use HIS money without him here? That money was for US, not ME, US.

I grabbed the finished cut produce and slid them into the pot, threw in a seasoning cube, and covered the pot to let it boil.

If I had just been stronger thirteen years ago... I felt a warm hand on my shoulder as I flinched back, the ugly face I turned out to see was Nicolas' overly joyous face. His smile was big enough to scrunch up his nose a bit and show off his dimples, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. He's feigning to make me comfortable, watch. In 3 seconds, he's going to ask me about my health. 3, 2..

"You're spacing out an awful lot again, or are you just focusing your vision? Do you need new contacts?" Nicolas said worriedly in his dumb fancy French accent.

"No, I'm fine. Just thinking. That's all. My vision hasn't worsened or anything, you can relax." I said with a smile as he raised his eyebrow, did I say something wrong?

"You should go out this week, it would do you some good. Especially because we're neari--" No, He can't just bring this up. He can't just unload this can of worms on me and look so unphased. The bastard. Its so close to his son's death date where he heroically died in a battle, and he is TELLING me to GO OUT? AND NOT MOURN? Hold your tongue. Holding my tongue. I am in his house. Hold your tongue Moselle. He might as well be literally paying my bills by now. I'm just as bad, if not worse, than a nepo-baby mooching off his old ass fortune.

"I'll think about it." The words felt faulty in my mouth, short and clipped too fast for my own liking. "Nicolas, can you do me a favor and set the table? Thank you." I asked him as nicely as I could, but my voice came out barely above a meek whisper, unfitting of the woman I once was. Nicolas grinned widely, this time his smile met his eyes and crinkling the corners, and went off to the other room, the clinking of silverware echoing in the peaceful quietness of the house. It seemed that time has mellowed all of us out. The clicking of keys and the exchange from shoes to slippers was barely audible but close enough to be heard in the kitchen.

"Lux, Is it you?" I asked out loud before a loud gruff was heard. He peeked into the doorway, after letting down his black hair, and it now hung over his face.

"No, actually, it's the deputy." He said, voice dripping with sarcasm. I rolled my... Eyes? Let's settle for that. Eyes. He can't possibly always greet someone sarcastically? Right? I mean the man introduced himself as the newspaper boy when I met him over dinner after I asked if he's one of Cavalier's fathers.