Moira

45.

"Well— I'm not certain, of course." Esmond was pacing around the living room, an edge to his voice that was almost covered up completely by the restlessness in it. Though, he sounded excited for the first time in— ever.

My mother had her arm tightly wrapped around my shoulder, eyes steadily on him but her hand absentmindedly brushing through my dark hair every now and then.

"My father had—" Esmond cut himself off, eyes darting through the room only to fall onto Arley, linger on the blond for a moment before he gave him an encouraging smile. "He suggested a possibility of something like this—" His hand lifted to show his bare wrist. "I honestly thought it wasn't more than a bedtime story, and I might be reaching for something that isn't there—"

"What is it?" It was my mother's voice beaming through the room, an uneasiness in her voice as she shifted in her seat beside me, arm lifting from my shoulder to fidget with her hands in her lap. "I'm sorry, just— what is it your father told you, dear?"

His eyes darted over to us. Instead of landing on her, though, he looked at me. And his eyes stayed connected with mine until he scrunched up his nose and cocked his head to the side with a small smile on his lips.

"Of course," He said, quickly nodding. "He had always said to me, 'Fall in love with the right person, Esmond, and it'll be your one true freedom.' I always thought it sounded cheesy." He took a deep breath, taking the time to think of his next words. "And then, he'd tell me this story, over and over again."

"The one you used to tell me?" Ellis' voice was timid, the girl seated in between Arley and my sister and her head resting on the blond's shoulder.

Esmond nodded, eyes on her before they flickered through the room once more. "The one about a man and a woman, both so deeply in love with one another; assigned by the universe to be together— truly meant to be together." The tone in his voice calmed as he recalled the story. "Bear in mind; my father never mentioned the word soulmate or The System. Seeing as him and my mother weren't—" He cut himself off to take a deep breath. "It doesn't make sense to go with that interpretation— as a child, I did, of course."

"And?" Aude asked.

"And when they realised— realised they were meant to be together — instead of boasting and gloating about it, instead of showing each other off to their friends and family; instead of doing all the things other people did, and instead of caring what other people thought— they ran."

"Ran?" The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them, brows knitted together tightly in confusion and hesitance. "Ran where?"

Esmond shrugged. "Away." He sounded uncertain now, tongue flicking over his lips.

"That doesn't sound right—" My eyes flew through the room to see if anyone else shared my sentiment, but instead, my mother interrupted me softly.

"It is," She all but muttered, gaze glued to the ceiling as her hand held the other tightly.

"What?" My own hand went to cover hers, a reassuring gesture that was supposed to stop her from shaking lightly. "Mom— are you alright?" An edge of concern was prominent in my voice; even when she nodded, the feeling lingered.

"Your father—" The words got stuck in her throat as soon as they tried to escape her mouth, swallowing thickly before she went on. "He's talked about this so many times. I still remember how he'd go on and on about theory after theory and meanings about that stupid story— I got so tired of it, I banned the topic in the house." A dry laugh rattled through her chest at the memory that immediately turned into a shaky breath. "An old friend of his planted the seat; a nice man, around your father's age—"