Babies' Secret: My Ex Wants Me Back!
Chapter 102: Not her

Chapter 102: Not her

Chapter 102 - not her

Mathew rested his clasped hands on the railing at the rooftop as he stared below, looking at the staff who had clocked out, walking out of the hotel. He had been hiding since that day. Although he knew Amelia was trying to ease his mind, the emotion in him was too much for him to handle.

He couldn’t give Amelia what she wanted; he wasn’t the man for her.

Mathew hid here—the only person who knew about this place was Katherine and no one else. They sometimes came here to catch up, talk, and eat lunch if either of them needed to get away from prying eyes.

His brow furrowed, looking for the familiar black hair but didn’t see it, and checked his wristwatch. It was 6:00 p.m. It was like waiting for her to leave the hotel, then he’d finally be free to go back to his office.

He gulped, his breath ragged as he saw the circled scar around his wrist, which the wristwatch always hid. And he was pulled into the messy past he didn’t want.

His life wasn’t always smooth like this; he was once a young boy with no one, no name, no future or ambition. He was just Mathew from the dark alley where he grew up.

A young skinny boy who fought for scraps of food or got beaten because he couldn’t return home with money.

His mother—Iris, her stage name—was once a young, upcoming, beautiful pub artist with blonde hair and green eyes that lured everyone in until she met a man who promised her the world. And being a fool in love, she fell for him only to know the man was a young master of a very wealthy family who came down to town to do some business.

The said sperm donor knocked Iris up, and then everything went downhill. The beautiful artist became a joke to the folks. She was abandoned and rejected, even threatened by the wealthy family until she ran away.

Young, pregnant, and rejected, she had to work menial jobs together until she couldn’t anymore and found solace in alcohol and drugs—the only thing that could help her escape the moment.

Then Mathew was born. He looked like a splitting image of the man of her misfortune, except for the blonde hair he got from her. She was angry and hated the child.

And every day abused the boy.

Just at the age of six, Mathew was already working in his neighborhood, delivering coke from one person to another. The money earned was collected by his mom to buy drugs, and whenever he couldn’t work a day, his mother would beat him till he fainted.

Another time when his mother’s head cleared, she would hug him at night. Then when she woke up, she would push him away and throw things at him, calling him names. Sometimes his mother would choke him with a pillow, burn him with cigarette butts.

"You are the reason! It’s because of you my life is like this! If I hadn’t given birth to you, my life would have been perfect!"

"Don’t look at me with those hideous eyes!"

"Don’t show your face to me."

Then there was a day he came back from work at the age of nine? No, ten? He couldn’t remember. But he remembered vividly running home to give his mom the money he earned for the day. Even though with all his mom did, he never hated her. At a young age, he understood his mother. At least he had a space, a home, and sometimes a home meal if his mother’s head was clear some days.

While some of his friends in the dark street didn’t even have a mother, a home.

Mathew, with a smile, swung the bubs in a polythene bag a kind neighbor had given him and the money in his pocket home, but when he got home—his mother walked wobbly to him, a knife in hand and a smudge of whitish stain on her nose.

Mathew gulped, then smiled, "Mommy, I bought—" He was unable to finish his sentence before an empty bottle was thrown at him.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Her voice was frantic. "Don’t call me your mom! I’m not your mom! You hideous bastard! You ruined me, you damaged my life," his mother held the knife up and pushed him.

"Mom—" Mathew was slapped across his face and he tried to move.

"Just die! If you die, everything will go back to how it was. He would take me back," she muttered. And instinctively, Mathew raised his right hand. Instead of the knife stabbing his face, the knife cut his wrist and blood gushed out of the open wound and he screamed out.

His mother abruptly stood up from him as if her eyes cleared, "What have I done?" she yanked her hair, "No, no, no!" she cried, "I’m so sorry, Mathew. I’m sorry, mommy is sorry." She sobbed and took the blood-stained knife and jammed it in her neck.

"No!" Mathew shook his head and crawled to his mother’s body. For the first time, he knew the woman dying on the floor was his mother; she smiled at him.

His mother touched his cheek affectionately, gently, so warm and soothing, and Mathew grabbed the cold hand, "I’m sorry, son. I hope to have become a good mother to you." And that was the last thing.

Mathew didn’t know how many hours, days he stayed in a crouched position while still holding his mother’s hand, until he found himself on the hospital bed.

The kind person—Alaric—called the ambulance and was able to save him from bleeding to death, and the person took him in.

Then he started working at the pub for Alaric and was accepted by him. By the time he grew up, he met her. Katherine—a woman with the same eyes as his mother. Though not dull or lifeless like his mother, inside the deep eyes of Katherine there was still some warmth in them.

And when he knew about her situation, he vowed to become her hope, her confidant, and her knight. He didn’t want her to go downhill like his mother. No woman deserved that ending.

Then they lived together, became each other’s family, until a black sleek car parked at the front of the pub.

He remembered Katherine ran inside the pub that day and quickly tugged his arm, "Some goons are outside," she had whispered in a trembling voice and he smiled at her.

He rubbed her shoulder, "Go stay with the kids. I’ll meet with them. We don’t owe any rent." He said and pushed Katherine to the room.

"Be careful, Mathy," she said softly and rushed down the hallway.

Mathew walked outside to see men in suits and black glasses, then a man in his late forties walked out and stared at him. Then a smile graced the man’s lips.

"My son." The man walked to Mathew and hugged him.

Mathew gripped the railing tighter, his breathing shaking as he was pulled out from the awful past.

He remembered how the strange man introduced himself as his father and had been searching for him for years. Then took him to the city. But before leaving, he asked to make Katherine settled.

Then his father, the bane and boon of his whole existence, allocated this hotel to him to manage and gave him an ultimatum of five years to make this deserted hotel bloom, and then he’d recognize him as his son.

Now the hotel had come a long way since he had been assigned to this place, and what could he do alone if Katherine wasn’t there with him in every process? Without her, he didn’t think he could make it up to this now.

Katherine was a big part of his life; he didn’t think he could do without her. She was his number one supporter; she never gave up on him, always believed in him in every process. The first year when there was a crash in the investment or when investors were skeptical about dealing with him—it was Katherine who stood up and dealt with them.

Katherine was his everything.

Even if she didn’t choose him, he’d be available at every step she took.

Mathew blinked when he caught the familiar black hair leaving the hotel and he sighed in relief, the breath he didn’t know he was holding, and clutched the railing tighter. He watched her as she jumped around with her hand slung around one of the staff members.

The air was cool around him; everything had been quieter since he distanced himself from her. He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned to leave the rooftop, only to come face to face with Amelia, whose chin was raised challengingly. And he quickly whipped his head back to see the black hair he thought was Amelia turned, and it wasn’t her.

Fuck, he swore under his breath.

.

xxxx

Katherine:

Check the rooftop.

Amelia stared at the message Katherine had sent to her some hours later. She had asked how she would get there and Katherine explained to her, even telling her where the spare key was.

Amelia sucked in a breath as she opened the door to see Mathew in deep thought, his brow creased together and his hand caressing his wrist faintly.

She gulped and walked towards him; she was even surprised he didn’t take note of the new presence behind him. God knows what he was thinking so hard not to know she was there. She even called his name and nothing pulled him out, so she paused and stared at his broad back.

She was so engrossed with watching him when she heard the shuffle of his feet and blinked, then changed her position.

"Are you done hiding?" Amelia asked in an exasperated breath. And Amelia could see his eyes slightly widen, then he quickly schooled the emotion. She blinked the tears that wanted to spill from the opening guard he was putting against her again.

"What are you doing here?" Mathew asked gravelly.

"Do you hate that night we shared together so much that you avoid me like a plague?" Amelia asked. She couldn’t help herself from asking that. This wasn’t how she wanted to start, but this had been eating her up.

Amelia noticed how Mathew clutched his hand, then swiftly moved his hand to his hair and grabbed the back discreetly, but she saw it.

Silence stretched between them and he didn’t respond, and Amelia could feel her chest thudding from rejection. She licked her lower lip to say another thing, but Mathew beat her to it.

"I don’t know how to love someone who’s not her," he said, his eyes looking away in the distance.

And the words hit Amelia like she was punched in the gut. She blinked continuously to stop the tears that wanted to escape from the punch line she had gotten from Mathew. It hurt so much!

Yet she nodded slowly in understanding, swallowing hard as her lips trembled, her heart aching. "I’m sorry for bugging you," she breathed out in a shaky breath, looking at him one more time before running away.

And Mathew didn’t stop her or run after her, and yet he didn’t understand why his heart thumped in pain.