My Posh idiot (BOOK 2)

82💞

! Just a heads up, Alistair's Pov will focus on his traumas. It will not excuse his behaviour in the past but will explain it. This is to get a better understanding of his character, not to feel sorry for him !

Also Sorry for typos and see ya in two-three weeks🥹

Alistair Ryle ~

A couple of days has gone by. It was nearly hitting the second week of our vacation in Hawaii and somehow the conversation we had on the boat, was still lingering on my mind.

I was sitting outside by the balcony, watching the clouds move and change shape over time in the blue sky, as I sipped my morning brew. My eyes flicked back at the atmosphere, to a peace Iman who was lost in her sleep. I had unexpectedly cracked a smile and chuckled, knowing she'd be looking for her ice latte the minute she awakes. I made sure Iman's beverage was ready before mine, before she wakes up- except the ice would have to be on the side, or she'd complain about how watery the latte is.

That small bittersweet moment of romantic laughter disappeared, reverting back to why I had seated myself outside in the first place.

I hugged Iman so tight, I did not want her to see my emotions. I don't deserve to be emotional, especially when I am the sole reason why Iman had to go through what she terribly endure.

It had been years since I began confronting the weight of my past through therapy - the painful process of unlearning harmful behaviors, both toward others and myself. Facing the truth about my childhood was brutal, but nothing compared to the agony of losing Iman.

And on that day, as I found myself offering her advice, I realized I was standing face to face with those same wounds - reopened by the sound of her voice, by the vulnerability in her eyes.

It took me back...

13 years ago ~

It was guaranteed that I'd have a mandatory place at Oxford University. Not because I wanted to be there. Not because it was a generational tradition, but because Sebastian went.

Anything Sebastian did, I was a constant reminder that I could never surpass or even be as close to how great they uplifted my older brother.

I never got into Eton like Sebastian had done. It was my greatest failures according to my parents - my father mostly. My mother never had a mind of her own, she'd always agree with everything he said because a 'man is always right'.

Reminds me of myself and Iman when we dated the first time round.

I never expected to get into Oxford, so I prepared for the long awaited disappointment and the annoying teasing of Sebastian.

I did not understand why I wanted to be like Sebastian so much and please my parents, knowing how they already feel.

However it was nice for once to be able to have something they could somewhat be proud of.

But it did not last that long...why would it? It would never be a normal day if I was negatively compared to something.

We arrived to the assigned room that would be given to me for the first year. My father opening the door, I so begged internally for it to be closed.

The tension was thicker than the dark rain clouds that were filled with thunderous raindrops.

I didn't care as much of the standard of the room. As long as it was clean and an away from everyone else was all I could ask for. The flicker of my eye towards my father, painted disappointment, whereas my mother's facial expression was decorated with pure pity.