Shadow Of The Past | ✔️

10| The Weight of Absence

ACE
T

he announcer's voice reverberated through the grand hall, declaring, "The award for the most successful woman in the world goes to Naomi Madden." The room erupted in applause, but my attention drifted elsewhere, scanning for a sign of someone familiar—someone who might stand out.

And then, I saw her. A woman in a sleek black silk dress stood up, accompanied by a young girl. The girl said something to her, and the woman nodded before they both moved towards the stage. As she turned, I caught a glimpse of her face, and I knew instantly—it was her. It was Naomi.

Beside her, the young girl asked Naomi a question before they ascended the stage. I couldn't discern the girl's identity from a distance, but as soon as she stood next to Naomi under the spotlight, I saw it clearly. It was my daughter.

She was beautiful, more than I could have imagined, much like her mother.

Mixed emotions surged within me. Was I happy to see them? Yes, undeniably.

But beneath that happiness churned a turbulent sea of regret and longing. I had missed so much. I had abandoned them. I wasn't there to witness her grow into the remarkable young girl she had become. I wasn't there to be her father.

Naomi stood confidently at the microphone, a smile gracing her lips as applause filled the room. Her smile—something that had always moved me—now stirred a myriad of feelings within.

Her eyes scanned the crowd until they locked onto mine, her beautiful green eyes meeting my own. In those fleeting seconds, it was as if time stood still. I wanted nothing more than to cross the distance, to hold her, to kiss her, to take her and our daughter home, and start anew.

But uncertainty gripped me. Did she want to see me? Did she want to hear what I had to say? Would she even let me meet Amara?

As Naomi left the stage, her expression unreadable, she avoided any glance in my direction, focusing on everything but me. It hurt, deeply, but I understood why. She hadn't expected me here, now.

Meanwhile, Amara held the award with a radiant smile—one that unknowingly brought a smile to my own face for the first time in six long years.

Yet, my joy was eclipsed by a bitter revelation. As Naomi took her seat beside a man who draped his arms around her, my heart clenched. A ring gleamed on her finger—a symbol of commitment to someone else. Someone who wasn't me.

I seethed with a mix of resentment and self-blame. It was my fault I wasn't there. My fault another man now held her close, kissed her hair, and wore a ring that should have been mine. And to make matters worse, that man was Xavier Sky—the same Xavier who had been a friend turned adversary since high school, the man who had threatened Naomi's life to drive me away.

My fists clenched involuntarily. Hatred burned within me at the sight of him touching what was once mine. The urge to confront him, to reclaim what I had lost, surged fiercely.

Amidst the shocked faces of my family, I couldn't bear their pitying looks any longer. Without a word, I stood and walked away, the sound of my name fading into the background.

Outside, I sought solace by a tranquil garden bridge, staring at the rippling water below. Thoughts of Naomi and Amara flooded my mind, now tainted by the presence of Xavier. Anger boiled within me; the mere thought of them together threatened to consume me.

Footsteps approached, and I glanced sideways to see Luciano, my younger brother, joining me at the railing.

"It's really her and Amara," he remarked quietly, breaking the silence.

I nodded in response.

"Everyone seems happy to see her. But are you?" he asked gently.

I hesitated, struggling to articulate the storm of emotions within me. "I mean, yes... I never thought I'd see her again, but with Xavier..." My voice trailed off, unable to voice the depth of my turmoil.

"I know, Ace. It's messed up," Luciano acknowledged solemnly.

"Luciano, and our daughter... I missed her entire life," I confessed, frustration etching my words.

"I know, but you have to calm down, Ace," Luciano urged gently.

"I can't, Luc. Knowing he's been with her... that she's engaged or married to him," I spat bitterly. "Does Amara even know I exist? Does she think Xavier is her father?"

Luciano reassured me, "I don't think so. Naomi wouldn't keep that from Amara. She must have said something about you."

"I left without a word. Do you think she even wants to see me?" I questioned, my voice tinged with desperation.

"Stop with the 'what ifs,' Ace," Luciano advised firmly.

I sighed heavily, turning away. "I don't know what to do, Luc."

As the night settled around us, uncertainty and regret lingered like a shadow, casting doubt on what lay ahead.