Chapter 10 Return To The Past

• Whirling around with a tempestuous fire in her eyes, Lilibeth brandished her handbag in the air like a weapon ready for combat. Her arm swung through the air, aiming for Sebastian with her makeshift weapon as she exclaimed, “Have you lost your mind?”
• Sebastian, standing like a statue at the hospital's entrance, met her fury with a cool, impassive stare. “Who else are you expecting to come for you?”
• Lilibeth had half-expected this outcome, knowing all too well the fear Sebastian instilled in her acquaintances. It seemed his very presence was enough to send them scurrying for cover.
• With a huff of indignation, she declared, “Fine, I'll walk myself home then.”
• And with that, she began her march down the main street, feeling Sebastian's shadowy presence flit by her side, an unspoken reminder of the distance he placed between them, treating her with the indifference of a passerby.
• The fury boiling within her was so intense, Lilibeth contemplated lifting a brick from the sidewalk to hurl at Sebastian's car in a fleeting moment of wrath.
• “Taxi!” she eventually called out, her anger subsiding to practicality.
• The realization dawned on her that the journey back was hers to endure alone—the biting cold, the weariness, and the solitude. Conceding to convenience, she decided a taxi ride home was the wiser choice, especially since she had a bit of change to spare.
• Meanwhile, Sebastian, watching from the car ahead, caught a glimpse of Lilibeth entering the taxi through his rear-view mirror. A chuckle escaped him, amused by the turn of events.
• Back at the Montague Manor, Lilibeth launched into a barrage of phone calls to her grandfather, who was on a spiritual retreat at Lumonburg Hill.
• “Grandpa, you need to return soon. At this rate, you'll have no descendants left,” she pleaded, her voice a mix of frustration and urgency.
• The tranquil ambiance of the church, nestled amidst winter's embrace and vibrant greenery, was a stark contrast to Lilibeth's turmoil.
• The air was filled with the soothing aroma of incense, complementing the serene activities of past pilgrims and priests, and even the harmonious chirping of birds. It was a sanctuary of spiritual rejuvenation.
• Abraham, engrossed in his devout recitation, was interrupted by Lilibeth's pleas.
• “Grandpa, I've come to realize my errors. Could you please unlock my bank card? I promise to trouble you no more,” she bargained, her voice softening.
• Her appeals grew more desperate, “I've given up my happiness for you, and yet you leave me in this state? With God as your witness, does that not weigh on your conscience?”
• She even threatened, “If you continue to ignore me, I'll come find you on Lumonburg Hill myself. I refuse to believe you can evade me forever.”
• Abraham, pausing his rosary beads, exchanged a look with the priest opposite him. “Father Joshua, is there a way to rewind to twenty-three years ago?” he mused aloud.
• Joshua, understanding the implications, chuckled in response. “The spirited young lady will surely find her match, someone capable of guiding her,” he predicted with a hint of amusement.
• That evening, as Sebastian and Damian returned home, they were met with Lilibeth's cold silence.
• Damian, insightful for his age, remarked, “Daddy, Mommy Lilibeth is still upset with you.”
• Sebastian, reflecting on the day's events that led to Abraham turning off his phone, advised, “Let's not stir the pot further.”
• “Okay,” Damian agreed, sensing the tense atmosphere.
• As Sebastian settled onto the couch, Lilibeth, draped in her nightgown, stood up abruptly and relocated to another corner of the room, her actions a clear display of giving him the cold shoulder as she turned her attention back to the television.
• Damian, noting her sour mood, picked up one of the Autobots his father had recently gifted him. Approaching her with small, cautious steps, he offered Optimus Prime, saying, “Mommy Lilibeth, this is for you.”
• Lilibeth, her expression softening slightly, looked down at the toy held out by his small hand. After a brief hesitation, she accepted it.
• “Hey, kiddo, do you know why I've suddenly found it in my heart not to dislike you anymore?” Lilibeth inquired, a rare hint of warmth in her voice.
• Damian, his head tilting in curiosity, shook it, his hair dancing with the motion.
• “It's because you're the one thing not tainted by the disdain I hold for that man,” Lilibeth explained, her gaze briefly flickering toward Sebastian, who occupied a solitary spot on a nearby couch, before she redirected her attention back to the television screen.
• Before going to bed that evening, Sebastian escorted Damian to his guest room. “Daddy, why do you like Mommy Lilibeth when she's so fierce?” the boy asked.
• Gently tucking the blanket around Damian, Sebastian smiled, a softness touching his eyes. “You know, despite her fiery spirit, you have a soft spot for her too, right?”
• Earlier that day, during their small adventure to the toy store, Damian had the chance to pick two Bumblebees for himself. Yet, he chose only one, dedicating his second choice to the Autobot Lilibeth adored above all others.
• Damian's voice was tinged with a mix of admiration and affection as he explained, “Because Mommy Lilibeth is adorable and has always been so kind to me!”
• Sebastian, perched at the edge of the bed, couldn't help but let out a laugh. “Every day, she puts you on your toes, has moments of temper, and even commandeers your toys. Do these actions speak to her kindness?”
• The child paused, contemplating his father's words. It was true, at face value, these instances didn't paint the most flattering picture. Yet, he earnestly added, “But, Mommy Lilibeth takes the time to engage with me, to sit down and watch Autobots, to embrace me. It's just... she seems to only treat you badly, Daddy.”
• Lifting his gaze to the ceiling, Sebastian was enveloped in a moment of reflection. “There was a time,” he began, voice laden with a hint of nostalgia, “when I was the one she held dearest.”
• Damian, puzzled by the sentiment behind his father's words, was about to probe further when the light was extinguished, Sebastian's voice cutting through the darkness. “Time to sleep.”
• With that, Sebastian exited the room and made his way back to the master bedroom.
• Lilibeth had toyed with the idea of sleeping in separate bedrooms. The notion had been unthinkable during her grandfather's presence, but with him away, the temptation grew. Yet, even this thought was promptly challenged by a reminder from her grandfather's confidant, “Mr. Abraham's orders were clear; any night spent apart would incur a fine. A thousand for each night.”
• Undeterred, Lilibeth reached out once more to the old man sequestered on Lumonburg Hill.
• This time, Abraham, perhaps wiser from past interruptions, picked up his phone only to set it aside, letting it ring persistently before finally attending to it.
• “Grandpa, have you forgotten that your last name's Montague and that I'm your granddaughter?” Lilibeth's voice carried a mix of jest and exasperation.
• The old man's patience wore thin, his frustration boiling over. “Even if there was the slightest link between Sebastian and myself, I would have never consented to your union.”
• His next words were a barbed compromise, “You want to unblock the card? Fine. Provide me with a great-grandson through Sebastian, then pursue whatever life you wish, even if it means vanishing for decades.”
• Lilibeth, faced with this daunting ultimatum, found herself at a loss, contemplating the man before her, fresh from a bath, his presence both familiar and contentious.
• “You're dreaming. The thought of sharing such an intimate bond with Sebastian, or anyone else for that matter, is out of the question. I think your trip is a waste of time, seeing as you're thinking up all sorts of nonsense!” she retorted with a mix of defiance and resignation before abruptly ending the call.
• Abraham vented to the priest beside him, “Did you catch that? My luck has been abysmal this lifetime. I pray we don't cross paths in the next!”
• Back at the Montague Manor, the tension in the air was palpable as Sebastian and Lilibeth exchanged knowing looks. Lilibeth's recent outburst had given Sebastian some clues about what Abraham had proposed.
• Feeling the intensity of Sebastian's gaze, Lilibeth cocooned herself under the blanket, seeking refuge in sleep while pointedly ignoring Sebastian.
• Sebastian, unable to resist, chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. The thought of Lilibeth carrying his child seemed as implausible as trying to thaw ice with a whisper.
• As he settled on the couch on the cusp of sleep, his phone's ring pierced the silence.
• A brief glance at the caller ID, and he dismissively ended the call.
• In the days that followed, Sebastian immersed himself in work, leaving Damian in Lilibeth's care.
• “Mommy Lilibeth, I really miss my mommy,” Damian confided, his voice laden with the longing that only a child separated from their mother could feel. Growing up, he'd scarcely spent a day apart from her, making his admission all the more poignant.
• Without a word, Lilibeth grabbed the car keys and whisked Damian off to the hospital.
• To Lilibeth's surprise, Sebastian's visits to the hospital had ceased. His routine had become a predictable shuttle between work and home, prompting her to muse, “I was sure he'd be here more often.”
• Leticia, now markedly better, corrected her, “That's not quite right. Sebastian's visits are infrequent. His recent presence was only because of my operation. Usually, it's you who occupies his thoughts.”
• Lilibeth, her pride piqued, feigned disinterest yet sought an explanation.
• “Why bring this up again? Are you trying to get me to let my guard down with Sebastian, hoping he'll seize control?”
• “Lilibeth, I can't fathom why you're so wary of Sebastian. What stops you from acknowledging the good in him?”