Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A familiar, loving face greeted us as we stepped inside a mini house, painted white with a touch of brown at the far end of a subdivision just a few miles from Thayer's apartment and just a few drive from the sanitarium.
"Scarlett," Lydia greeted me, eyes wide and her arms open wide enveloping me in a hug. I hugged her back for a few seconds before pulling back and then sitting on the soft couch beside Thayer and Mike in the cozy living room.
"I'm glad you all could make it," she said placing a tray of snacks on the coffee table.
She looked older than the last time I saw her but definitely still beautiful. She's not wearing her work clothes which is new to my sight. But at the same time, this is also the first encounter of us without me on that poor sanitarium dress and her out of her working uniform.
She looked over at the door before returning her attention back on mine. It didn't took me long to realize that she looks nervous, anxious even.
"So, what did you find?" Mike asked her, and she seemed startled by the sudden conversation.
"It's about you Scarlett," she says, half beaming and half unsure if she's supposed to beam.
"Me?" I ask, pointing at myself, "is it about... my mom?"
"Yes," she answers, "while all of you were gone in the sanitarium, and with the president and Dr. Jean being all frantic finding a way to hunt you down without involving the cops, I managed to proceed with my own little investigation."
"And?" Thayer asks, a bit impatient.
She opened her mouth to say something when a phone rings. We all looked at the telephone attached to the wall of Lydia's house and she turned around to look at it too before standing up and excusing herself, "Just a sec."
I can feel myself getting all hyped up and anxious at the same time. This might be the final chance of me ever knowing about my biological parents, if not, my biological mother. And this would also be the time where we'll figure out if it's Dr. Jean or not.
I'm hoping for the latter.
I couldn't bear the thought of my biological mother being as cruel as her.
I just don't feel it that she is.
I watched as Lydia talk over the phone, her voice turning softer and softer, then problematic a little later. Her tone sounded hushed and she looked over at us before proceeding to the kitchen where we can't see her.
"What was that about?" I asked, still trying to look at Lydia from my direction.
Both of the guys just shrugged, not knowing. I heaved out a sigh and then leaned myself back comfortably against the couch.
I studied the portraits hanging on the beige colored walls, one is of a family picture, and the smaller one beside it was of a little girl. When Lydia came back, she was clutching her phone on her chest and it was as if she's close to tears and passing out, "I think it's time for you to leave now."
