C153 Promise Me

Annabelle sat curled up on the chaise in her room, the soft glow of her bedside lamp illuminating the space with a warm amber hue. The phone rested against her ear, her mother’s voice crackling slightly on the other end.

The call had started awkwardly, as they always did with Mauve.

Each of them danced around their pain, careful not to touch the raw wounds that still lingered.

But tonight was different.

“I think about him sometimes, you know,” Mauve said softly, breaking the quiet between them.

“Dad?” Annabelle asked, though she wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

“Yes. Patrick Shaw.” Mauve exhaled heavily. “I think about how he once was…before everything.”

Annabelle hugged a throw pillow closer to her chest.

Her mother’s voice was heavy with emotion, but there was something else there too.

Honesty, maybe even regret.

“I used to think you hated me for what I did and for how everything turned out,” Annabelle admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I never hated you,” Mauve said quickly, her tone firm. “Never. I hated myself, Annabelle. For how I failed you, failed Cathy...failed all of us."

Annabelle blinked back tears. It was rare for Mauve to speak so openly and so vulnerably.

“Mom, you didn’t...”

“Let me finish,” Mauve interrupted gently. “You were a child, Annabelle. You shouldn’t have had to make the choices you did. You shouldn’t have had to protect Cathy from things I should have seen. That anger I’ve carried all these years? It was never for you. It was for me. And...for Patrick."

Annabelle’s heart clenched as she listened.

“I loved him,” Mauve continued. “He was my first love, and no matter how things turned out, I’ll never regret that he gave me you and Cathy. He wasn’t perfect...not by a long shot...but he was mine. And I failed him too."

Silence settled between them for a moment, filled only by the soft crackling of the phone line.

“I want to see him,” Mauve said finally. “I want to bury him properly, Annabelle. I know it’s selfish of me to ask, but... would you be there with me? When I see his body?"

Annabelle’s throat tightened, but she didn’t hesitate. “Of course, Mom. I’ll be there."

The tears spilled freely now, and Annabelle didn’t try to stop them.

For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no anger and no blame.

Only understanding.

“I’m sorry, Annabelle,” Mauve whispered.

“I am too,” Annabelle said, her voice breaking.

They cried together, their emotions tangling across the miles between them.

It was cathartic in a way Annabelle hadn’t expected, like letting go of a weight she hadn’t realised she’d been carrying.

The conversation stretched late into the evening, touching on memories both painful and sweet.

Mauve even laughed softly at one point, recalling a time Patrick had brought home a stray puppy, much to her dismay.

When Dante entered the room, Annabelle didn’t notice at first.

She was too engrossed in her mother’s voice, her tears streaking her cheeks.

But Dante’s presence filled the space, his gaze immediately locking onto her with concern.

“Annabelle?” He asked gently, his voice low but urgent.

She waved him off, gesturing that she was okay. “Mama, Dante just came in,” she said into the phone.

“Tell him I said hello,” Mauve said softly.

Annabelle relayed the message, and Dante gave her a small nod, though his worry didn’t fade.

He sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms without a word.

His warmth enveloped her as she finished the call, Mauve’s final words lingering in her mind.

“Thank you, Mom,” Annabelle said. “For everything. I’ll call you tomorrow."

After hanging up, Annabelle leaned into Dante’s chest, letting his steady heartbeat soothe her frayed nerves.

“What happened?” he asked, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“I was talking to my mom,” Annabelle said. "We... we worked through some things. I’m fine, really."

Dante’s lips pressed against her temple, his hold tightening. “I don’t want to see you cry like that again. All I want is for you to smile, Annabelle. That’s it. Just smile."

Annabelle tilted her head to look at him, a soft laugh escaping despite herself. “Nobody smiles all the time, Dante. Not even by your decree, your majesty."

He huffed a small laugh, his lips curving into a reluctant grin.

But his amusement faded when Annabelle’s phone buzzed with Natasha’s name flashing on the screen.

The call disconnected almost immediately.

“Natasha?” Dante asked. "Why would she be calling you by this time?" he said almost to himself.

Annabelle shrugged with a frown as she picked up the phone and called back.

It went straight to voicemail. “She didn’t answer. I’ll try her again later,” she said.

Dante’s expression turned aggrieved as he leaned back against the cushions. “Now that you’ve given everyone else your attention, do you think you could spare me some?"

Annabelle laughed, the sound light and teasing.

She launched herself at him, and he caught her easily, his hands steadying her at her waist.

“Think you can handle all my attention?” She challenged, her voice full of mischief.

“Try me,” Dante said, his tone low and full of promise.

Annabelle wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer for a kiss that left her breathless.

When Dante tumbled them onto the bed, she squeaked in surprise, her laughter bubbling up again.

“Promise me,” he said seriously, his eyes dark with emotion. “Promise me you’ll always laugh like this. Always smile like this. For the rest of our lives."

Annabelle paused, understanding the weight behind his words.

But she wasn’t ready for heavy conversations.

Not now. Biting her lip, she batted her lashes at him and asked, “Is this your way of proposing to me, Dante?”

He looked momentarily abashed, a rare flush rising to his cheeks.

“You talk too much,” he muttered before silencing her with another kiss, this one deeper and more consuming.

And Annabelle, for the first time in what felt like forever, let herself fully feel the love in his embrace.