My Enemy’s Daughter

AMELIA

” It’s a boy.” It’s the first sentence Peter says as he wraps his arms around me, hugging me tightly.

The eyes shining with enchantment make me smile and bring an inexplicable happiness to my heart, Peter is one of the few people who do me good, besides him there is only mom and the children from the orphanage. Responding to his hug and squeezing him back, allowing my body to relax next to his, even though I’m confused by his speech.

“We found out about sex earlier today and I don’t know why but I wanted to share it with you. I think it’s because you’re like my little sister and best friend.” He says and an ice cube penetrates my stomach.

little sister.

Oh really? Of all the words, did he have to use this one?

“I know your sister would tell you, but I couldn’t help but want to be first.” I swallow hard, sitting back in the chair as he does the same and sits down across from me.

My sister. I’m not sure Aurora would tell me about the gender of her son, my nephew, in fact, I’m sure she’d be happy if I wasn’t a part of it. Our interaction has gotten worse over the years, but it’s gotten worse since his marriage and now we they are too old to try to approach and even though he knows this, Peter just tries to pretend he doesn’t see it and pushes the bar.

“Did you pick the name?” I ask, pushing the thoughts away and speaking, even in this I was excluded. I should know the naming options for my nephew, right? Peter smiles, showing all his teeth, and nods.

“Arthur.” He speaks, as if he were confessing a beautiful poem to me. My lips part in a genuine smile as I picture my nephew for the first time. Anxiety builds in my chest and suddenly I find him in my arms, rocking him and telling him bedtime stories. Take him for a walk and give him all the candy he wants, but that’s not going to happen.

Melancholy hits me and I can’t hide the sadness when I realize that Aurora will never allow me near her son, not when she blames my mother and me for her mother’s death.

“What is that?” Peter asks, touching my hand to the table.

“Anything.” I say, fighting back tears.

He huffs, throwing his hands up.

“Please don’t deceive me. Your eyes are sad and I know there must be a reason.”

I smile, trying to change my expression and convince him I’m fine.

“It’s nothing at all, I’m happy and looking forward to Arthur’s birth.” His eyes analyze me enigmatically, he knows me very well and he knows I’m lying.

“I’ll pretend I believe that. Tell me about yourself, what are you doing? Having a lot of hangovers?” A sly smile graces his face and I have him to thank for changing the subject.

Hangover.

Urgh!

This topic immediately makes me think of the nameless guy I’ve been talking to non-stop and trying not to give in with smiles.

We’ve been talking for a few days now, but I have no idea who it is and it’s starting to freak me out. His reluctance to reveal his identity leads me to believe he’s some psychopath looking for revenge on Dad.

In fact, my mother made me swear to stay away from alcohol for now.

He smirks, looking at me intensely and even funny.

“It looks like you are or will be up to no good.”

snort.

“I am a saint.” I rest my hand on my chest, brushing aside his innuendo, avoiding his questioning eyes. A loud, infectious laugh comes out of his mouth and I have to laugh along with it.

“I know you, Amelia. Your good ‘girl face doesn’t fool me.'” We were silent when our gazes met and something different came between us.

“I will not do anything.” He looks away and shifts in his chair a little sheepishly.

What just happened here?

I’m still looking at him when the waitress appears in front of us and we order, we order a black coffee without sugar and a cheese bread and he orders almost the same, changing the cheese bread for a big piece of chocolate ball.

I smile at the image of you looking at the cake.

“What?” he asks and I shrug.

“You look like a child.” I talk and we talk about animosities, the story of how we need help for the orphanage and he said he’s going to talk to some acquaintances to get sponsorship. I’m so happy I can’t help but steal a piece of the cake. He grunts, pushing the candy away.

Sometimes I get angry because Aurora has everything, including Peter, even though she got to know him first. My sister only dated him as a teenager because she realized that the idiot here had silly, childish feelings for the guy. That was just one of his ways of punishing me.

“So, are you going to make the switch?” He questions after seconds of silence.

“What?” I ask, surprised that he knows about the trip.

“Your father commented on his desire to go on an exchange program, he said he would send you as soon as classes were over.

My will.

“That’s his thing, not mine, I want to stay and help out at the orphanage.”

“I understand, but it would be a great experience for you. Leaving Brazil and getting to know other cultures is not for everyone, you have to have the opportunity and you do, don’t waste it.” I nod, not wanting to prolong the subject. We say goodbye, I decline the invitation to take me home and insist on protesting so that I can take a taxi.

I get home about thirty minutes later, stopping halfway up the stairs when I hear Dad yelling. I decide to ignore it because it’s not the first time I’ve seen one of their shows, but I stop in my tracks as soon as I hear Aurora’s whiny voice.

He never yells at her.

Curious, I silently descend the steps I’ve already climbed and position myself near the door to his office.

“Did you talk to him?” Dad’s authoritative voice appears, sounding impatient.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

” At the.” Aurora responds calmly, looking scared. “I didn’t even know he had given up.” adds.

I furrow my brows, trying to understand what they’re talking about.

“My informants guarantee that he was at your sister’s party, I think you’re not kidding me, you know very well what his release means for this family.”

“Yes.” she murmurs.

“Go back to your house, Aurora.” My father orders at the same time that my cell phone beeps, announcing the arrival of a new message.

I run to hide and not get caught.

I enter a small room, right next to Dad’s and breathe a sigh of relief. I take my phone out of my purse and open the message.

Masquerade: Let’s meet today. Be ready by 7:00 pm and I’ll send someone to pick you up.

“Daughter, what are you doing here?” I look into the face of Zilda, our oldest employee.

“Was I getting some air?” I answer a little uncertainly, embarrassed to be caught by the woman.

“Where do I keep the cleaning products?” he asks, a smile wanting to bloom on his face.

I shrug, laughing along with the woman. Coming out of the small closet and leaving a kiss on her cheek.