Chapter 382: Fifty three years of regret.
As exhausted as she was, Sienna remained in her seat. She waited for the old man to leave before gesturing for his now ex-wife to sit down in the chair across from hers.
"Deborah," Sienna said softly, "Why don’t you stay back for a while? There is something I would like to hear from you."
Deborah moved slowly, leaning against a walking cane. Her back was slightly bent, her hair silver, but her eyes burned with something deeper than age.
"Tell me, why end it now?" Sienna asked after Deborah settled into the chair. "You have been married for so long. Neither you, nor your husband slept with Simon Soliz. You don’t seem to hate each other, at least from my observations. Why couldn’t you ride out your last years together?"
Deborah’s lips tightened.
"You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wish to." Sienna told her softly, trying to make her feel at ease.
Then, like a dam breaking, Deborah’s story poured out.
"I was fifteen," she began, voice hoarse but steady. "Too young to know what I wanted and still in school. My parents married me off to Martin Mercer in a hurry, for a few benefits. At seventeen, I was already carrying our first child. I worked as a junior nurse, while he was building materials salesman. My salary was higher. All his money went into ’work expenses,’ which was code for drinking and whoring around. I paid the bills. I kept us afloat."
Her hands twisted together.
"One day, he took a job on a flying ship that transported goods and left. I didn’t see him for six years. He wasn’t around when I had our first son." She sighed. "When he returned, his pockets were as empty as they were when he left. We didn’t talk about his time away, we just carried on as if everything was normal. We went on to have five more children.
Our first son died of the plague at ten. Our second daughter...crippled by car, and later she too passed. The three who survived? They always sided with their father. Always. Martin found the fox god in the six years he was away. He had changed. He was quiet, devout, always assisting the priest and eventually serving as temple elder. To them, he was holy. And me? The villain. The one who was always barking at them. The one who argued too much. The one who didn’t give their father peace when he was reading his holy books."
Her voice cracked, but she pressed on.
"When I tried to celebrate fifty years of marriage, Martin refused. I wanted to renew our vows, and have a better wedding than the small one we had. I told my friends, co-workers and relatives. They were excited for me and some offered to help in any way, be it financially or physically. But not my children. They accused me of wasting money.
Do you know what hurt the most? I spent all of my money on them and their father. I was the one who funded their education. I dressed and fed them. They lived off my salary and investments. But I never said it aloud. I let Martin keep his dignity as the head of the family and kept this secret. But when the children accused me of wanting to waste money, he did not defend me."
Mija huffed.
Deborah’s eyes glistened with bitter fire.
"Then, the children had their own financial problems. I have two daughters and one son. Both daughters had businesses that were struggling. One was also pursuing higher education, which is expensive and she has two children of her own in a private school that costs an arm and a leg. My son, he wanted to build a house, three floors. His wife’s parents were putting pressure on him.
They came to me, demanding that the assets of our family be divided. Martin of course stood with them. How could he say no when they were not his. He has always resented that I chose to control my money and accounts, and he always had to ask me first if he wanted money for something that he couldn’t afford on his own. As usual, I seemed to find myself in the position of the villainess, all alone. I gave in.
Since then, they call him every day. Me? Rarely. And when they do, it’s only to ask why I am not taking good care of their father. Every call ends in argument."
Mija leaned forward, eyes wide.
Deborah’s voice dropped to a whisper. "The doctor says I have three months left. Three months. This is all my life has come to. The Mercer family is now finished. I will not spend my last three months in regret. I want to travel. I want to take a cruise. I want to eat everything I ever wanted." She wiped tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "If I could turn back time, I would never marry him. Never."
She straightened, frail but fierce.
"Sienna, and your assistant." She looked at Mija. "Take some advise from this old woman. Choose yourselves. Choose happiness. Do not stay with men whose love must be kept with money and sacrifice. Do not waste your lives pleasing others. Pleasing society. Do not try to embrace children who only know how to stab you. It doesn’t matter how much you love them.
Do not be afraid to cut the noose if its strangling you. Cutting it early will save you from dying while you are still alive. It will save you from being another Deborah. If you meet a man that truly loves, values and respects you, then hold on to him and reciprocate what you are given.
I spent fifty years in a marriage where those things were denied to me. Martin never beat me, never raised his voice at me, never called me names, never had an affair again after he found his faith. But his silence humiliated me. His lack of support killed me. I was married and had children, but at the same time, very much alone."
She left resolutely, walking slowly, smiling at Mika who walked beside her. Her words hung in the air like a curse and a blessing. Silence filled the hall. Both women had a lot to think about.
Mija suddenly rose, cheeks flushed. "Si, if we are done for the day, I am going to find my husband," she declared, voice trembling with urgency.
Sienna almost twisted her neck while turning it to the left to look at her friend. "What?"
Mija blinked. "I know what to do now. I won’t chase Wayo again."
Sienna could only watch in confusion as her friend made haste for the door. But Mija was not the only one feeling the weight of the old woman’s word pressing against her heart. Sienna rose too, murmuring. "Then I will also find mine."
It so happened that Elias had come to Sienna’s office to pick her up. He was still outside, trying to get rid of a pesky reporter by hitting the man with a bouquet of flowers!
When Sienna ran to him, and embraced him, he forgot his battle. His eyes softened and he buried his nose in her neck. "The flowers are ruined," he muttered.
She patted his back. "It doesn’t matter, just buy me new ones."
He took her hand led her to a hover car that flew them into the city. They arrived at a restaurant that had been trending on the BeastNet. The shop owner opened only two hours a day, between five and seven. The prices were ridiculously expensive. Yet the food was said to be divine and the servings generous.
Inside, the air was fragrant with spices and sizzling oils that made hungry eaters drool. The menu had only five items: roasted river fish with glazed honey, crystal dumplings with minced beef and blue mushrooms, spicy golden noodle soup, vegetable broth with corn bread, sweet and savory pudding.
Sienna ordered for everything. She tasted each bite, her exhaustion melting into quiet joy. Like the other eaters, she was enthusiastic about her meal.
Elias watched her, his gaze tender, as though Deborah’s warning had reached him too. "Are you okay? I heard about the shooting."
She put down the spoon she was using to eat pudding, covered her mouth and belched. "I am okay. For some reason, my mind is very strong." She looked out the window, the line of waiting customers had grown twice longer. "Come on, let’s go home and take a walk."
They returned home in twenty minutes. The compound was quiet, lanterns and lights glowing softly. But as soon as they stepped inside, Ali appeared.
Her arms were wide open, and her smile was brighter than the sun.
She stopped and sniffed the air, nose twitching.
"Oh no, she is sniffing us." Elias whispered.
Sienna took a step back. "It’s been over twenty minutes. Surely, we don’t---"
"You went out," Ali accused, voice sharp. "You ate something nice...without me!"