Loving Pride

Vaults and Thunderstorms

Just like the Colonel had predicted, there was a thunderstorm that night. When the lightning was really bright, Lydia would hug herself with her eyes closed while the Colonel just watched her.

He had sat up in bed, leaning back on the headboard with a glass of whisky in his hand. Like always, he was only in his military pants and belt. Lydia didn't complain because it was the way she liked him.

"Do I still look like a corpse, Colonel?" Lydia glanced up at him with a smile.

"I admit, you've gained color." He took a sip of whisky, "But tell me about that scar."

"Why would a man who's seen all grief and death be possibly curious about my measly scar?" She gave a hearty chuckle.

"Tell me, Lydia."

And she told him. Lydia Thorne told him about her mother, who had torn her womb open with a kitchen knife during the ninth month of her pregnancy. Fernanda Thorne, her deceased mother, had been impatient about the baby. Lydia was glad that her son was born alive, even though she couldn't walk or eat properly for months because of the wound.

The very reason Fernanda Thorne had sent her youngest and ugliest daughter to Colonel Marquez Agaria's cell the day before his execution was in hopes that he might murder her like the multiple lives he had ended mercilessly.

But what she didn't expect was Lydia Thorne returning home with tears in her eyes and his child in her womb. However, that same morning, the Colonel's trusted allies had flipped Palona over and managed to bring it under the Black Unity. Colonel Marquez Agaria was saved miraculously but he hadn't seen Lydia nor known her name after that.

The scar on her stomach was one of the many struggles she had put up with out of love for the Colonel and their son. Nobody knew that Fernanda had sent her daughter to the Colonel, and she never admitted it to the rest of their family. Hence, nobody believed that Thomas was the Colonel's son.

Everyone labeled Lydia Thorne a whore. She was destroyed within her own family, but Thomas was the only hope she had. Thomas was a promise she had kept.

As Colonel Marquez Agaria stared at Lydia Thorne sleeping beside him, he brushed her golden hair behind her ears and grazed his rough hand against her tender cheek.

Surprisingly, he was beginning to remember her as the young child with pimples who had been too terrified to lay down beside him. His memories were short yet livid—he wanted to remember her as much as possible, and he swore to try.

The thunderstorm raged quite well outside, and young Thomas had woken up in the middle of the night. He felt like the vault was calling to him. Thus, he tiptoed out of his room and towards his father's office. When he succeeded in pulling himself onto the Colonel's leather chair, he found the paper in the drawer on which the Colonel noted down all the keys that he had tried. Thomas continued working on it.

Three hours later, when the Colonel became restless in his sleep due to the familiar warm body pressed against his skin, he felt the need to be alone. To fetch a new whisky bottle from his office, he got up from the bed. The door was left open, making the Colonel grow cautious.

Inside, he found Thomas in his chair, staring intently at the Vault on his table. The little boy wasn't blinking, nor was he writing down anything. His complete attention was fixed on the vault.

"What are you doing, Thomas?" The Colonel thundered, making the boy jump out of his skin. He confessed that he had gotten up in the middle of the night to find the right key, but the Colonel found it hard to believe.

"I heard a sound, a click... I think the vault is open, sir."

Colonel Marquez Agaria was dumbstruck, and when he gently pulled the vault door, it opened easily.

He stared down at his son whose undivided attention was on the vault. The Colonel didn't imagine that the metal box would turn into the child's obsession. But he thought back and realized that during every arithmetic lesson, Thomas indulged in writing down the numbers and in finding the possible passcode.

He had been working hard on it for nearly a month before cracking it.

The Colonel placed his hand on the boy's head, gently patting him, "I admire your dedication, Thomas."

Hearing words of praise for the first time from a man who's always complained about him made Thomas's heart leap with joy. He had finally earned the Colonel's attention—he had finally done something that his father wasn't capable of.

"Thank you, sir," the boy grinned.

"But I don't appreciate men who fuss around my study without proper permission. You can go to bed now."

Thomas ultimately realizedthat the nature of an adult man couldn't be changed by opening vaults. Hisdispleasure towards the Colonel remained the same as he returned to his room.