Whispers of Deceit.

Chapter 15

Jared and I had barely slept. I stirred as the first grey light seeped through the blinds, checking the clock: 6 a.m. The weight of last night still hung heavy in the air, pressing down on both of us like a fog that hadn’t lifted.

Jared was awake, staring at the ceiling with that faraway look he got when something gnawed at him. Breeze lay curled up at his feet, sensing the tension and watching us both with anxious eyes.

“You okay?” I whispered, turning onto my side to face him.

He let out a long sigh, finally meeting my gaze. “Honestly? I don’t know. I keep replaying what happened, thinking about what Dad said, and how… how he looked at you.” His brow furrowed, and I could tell he was holding something back.

“Jared, whatever it is, just say it,” I urged gently.

He hesitated, then said, “I’m worried about Dad. Last night was hard for him, maybe harder than we realize. He’s spent years defending her. If he lets himself believe this… it might break him.”

I nodded, understanding his fear. Patrick was a good man, but his loyalty to his wife ran deep. Seeing her manipulative side so plainly, and believing that she could hurt herself and others, was a painful truth he’d never been willing to accept.

Jared ran a hand over his face, sitting up. “Maybe I should go over there, check on him.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I asked, sitting up beside him. “After last night… it might be too soon.”

He considered this, glancing out the window, where the first pale hints of dawn were colouring the sky. “I can’t just sit here, Natalia. What if he didn’t even sleep? What if she’s already working to spin the story, make him doubt us again?”

He had a point. We both knew how persuasive his mother could be, how she’d mastered the art of manipulating Patrick with a single tear, a carefully chosen word.

“Okay,” I said. “But I’m coming with you. Whatever happens, we face it together.”

A faint, grateful smile appeared on his face. “Let’s get dressed, then.”

Within half an hour, we were in the car, the morning still quiet as we drove the familiar streets toward his parents’ house. The air was thick with the kind of nervous energy that settles in the chest and refuses to budge. Jared’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as we neared the house.

“Let’s just… let’s hope for the best,” he said, though his voice was strained.

When we reached the house, Jared parked on their drive. We both took a moment, breathing deeply. I reached over, squeezing his hand.

“Whatever happens, we’ll be okay,” I said, though a shiver of doubt ran through me.

After a few seconds, Patrick opened the door, looking a little worn around the edges but calm. He gave us both a nod, then stepped aside without a word, motioning us inside. We followed him to the living room, where he took a seat in his usual armchair, folding his hands in his lap.

Jared and I sat down across from him, and he looked at us, his expression hard to read.

“I talked to your mother,” he began, his voice steady, almost impassive.

Jared leaned forward, his face tense. “And?”

“She didn’t admit to any of it,” he said simply. “Told me it was all a misunderstanding and that she’d been hurt… that both of you had misread the situation.”

I felt Jared’s hand tighten around mine, but he kept his voice level.

“Dad, you know her. You’ve seen her behaviour, even if you’ve chosen not to call it out before.”

Patrick’s expression didn’t shift, though he gave a slight nod, acknowledging the truth without fully conceding it.

“Look, son… I can’t pretend to know everything that’s going on between you and your mother. And I’m not saying I have all the answers. But I do know that both of you are important to me. It would be easier for everyone if we didn’t rush to conclusions.”

Jared’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. “I get that, Dad. But this isn’t something that will go away on its own.”

Patrick sighed, glancing out the window as though searching for the right words. “Maybe. And I’ll admit, seeing how things played out last night… it was concerning. But I don’t want this to blow up our family, Jared. Not if there’s any chance this can be handled quietly.”

“I understand,” Jared replied, his tone calmer now, though I could still sense the frustration. “But it has to be handled, one way or another.”

Patrick gave him a small nod, the closest thing to agreement he’d given all morning. “All right. Let’s just… take things one step at a time.”

He stood up, signalling the end of the conversation. We took that as our cue and rose to leave, thanking him as we headed to the door.

As we made our way to the front door, Patrick’s steady words lingered in the quiet house, offering Jared a small but meaningful assurance. He’d heard us, maybe even believed us—at least enough to give us a chance. But just as we reached the hallway, footsteps sounded from the far side of the room, quick and tense.

Helen appeared in the doorway, her face flushed and tense. She’d clearly overheard more than a little of our conversation. The restrained look she usually wore was gone, replaced by barely concealed frustration.

“Leaving already?” she said, voice taut. “I’d think after last night, you’d both have something a little more constructive to say to me.”

Jared’s shoulders tensed as he turned, but he kept his tone calm. “Mum, we’ve said what we needed to say.”

She took a step forward, crossing her arms tightly. “And apparently you said it to everyone but me. Making me out to be some sort of... manipulator. I thought I could expect better from my own son.”

Patrick watched from the living room, his face unreadable, but he didn’t intervene. Jared kept his gaze steady, his voice calm but resolute. “Mum, we just wanted you to understand how we feel. Nothing more.”

“Understand how you feel?” she said, her tone rising. “Jared, I have done nothing but try to look out for you—for both of you—and this is the thanks I get? Accusations and… and ultimatums?”

Jared exhaled slowly. “Mum, this isn’t an attack. It’s about boundaries—boundaries that we need you to respect.”

Helen’s mouth tightened. She cast a sharp glance at me before turning her gaze back to Jared. “I see what this is. Natalia put you up to this, didn’t she?”

I started to respond, but Jared held up a hand, his voice firm. “No, Mum. This is coming from me. Thalia has nothing to do with it.”

Helen looked back at Patrick, who still stood by silently, his expression guarded. A spark of frustration flashed in her eyes as she met his steady gaze, clearly taken aback by his lack of support.

“Patrick,” she said, her voice catching slightly, “are you just going to stand there? You can’t possibly believe any of this.”

Patrick took a slow breath, finally speaking. “Helen, they’re not attacking you. They’re just telling you how they feel. And maybe,” he added quietly, “we owe it to them to listen.”

Helen’s face shifted, momentarily caught off guard. Her eyes darted back to Jared and me, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind, the familiar mask slipping back into place as she straightened, her expression hardening.

“Well,” she said, voice cool now, “if that’s how you feel, Jared, I suppose there’s nothing left to say.” She turned sharply and left, her heels clicking on the floor as she disappeared down the hallway.

Patrick looked at us, a faint look of apology in his eyes, though he said nothing more. We exchanged a small nod before stepping out the door and closing it quietly behind us.

As we walked down the path, Jared squeezed my hand, his face a mix of relief and sadness. “She’s not going to change, is she?”

“Maybe not,” I replied, glancing back at the house. “But we are, and that’s what matters.”

In the morning light, the weight of the encounter seemed to lift slightly, and for the first time in a long time, I felt that we’d finally taken a step forward.

I drove us home, sensing that Jared was too frustrated to handle the wheel. I’m relieved that Patrick didn’t rush to his wife’s defence like he usually does, and even more relieved that Jared finally stood his ground. His mother has zero respect for our relationship, our privacy, or the choices we’ve made, and I’m so tired of pretending that her behaviour over the last ten years is anything close to normal.