Chapter 3 Unpleased Meeting

• After my mother left, I assessed my reflection in the dress she had chosen for me and felt a wave of discomfort. Rummaging through my wardrobe, I found a pale pink skirt set that my grandmother had gifted me for my birthday. Trying it on, it fit perfectly! More importantly, I felt at ease wearing it, free from the concern of enduring inappropriate stares at dinner.
• Clad in my chosen outfit, I remained in my room until I heard the car horn and my name being called. I dashed out and hurriedly took my seat in the car. It was too late for them to insist on another change of clothes. Throughout the journey, my mother chided me about my attire. I donned my headphones and escaped into my favourite music, gazing out at the beautiful scenery we passed.
• When we arrived at the venue, it was decidedly elegant and bustling with people. As per usual, I followed my parents with a sense of awkwardness. Directed by my mother, I took my seat, donned my headphones, and began to fidget with my napkin whilst half-listening to their conversation.
• After my father persuaded my mother to cease her tirade against me, I silently conveyed my gratitude with a look. They engaged in conversation with one another and, as was typical, seemed to forget my presence. Occasionally, they would turn to me to pose a question which I couldn't hear, and I would simply nod in response, smiling timidly.
• "Are you sure, Isabella?" my father asked earnestly. Uncertain of the question, I noticed my mother nodding and mimicked her action.
• "Are you sure?" he repeated. Not wanting to admit that I hadn't been following the conversation, I refrained from asking for clarification and replied with feigned confidence.
• "Yes."
• Little did I know that this uninformed affirmation would ensnare me in a nightmare from which there was no escape.
• My father, Santiago Sardino, owns a boat-building business passed down from my grandfather, who also bore the same name. Like me, he was his father's sole son and, until recently, the only heir. Now, I am the sole beneficiary of both estates because my father called upon his inheritance while my grandfather was still alive, and it was duly granted to him.
• My mother is Eva Giménez; she served as his secretary in their youth. The details of their story remain obscure to me, as neither speaks of it. It's as if the subject is taboo, so I have ceased to inquire.
• According to my mother, I was an unintended result of a drunken mistake; a child not planned by my father. This is a point he has reiterated throughout my life with wearying frequency.
• It seems as though he resents my very existence, and I have come to realise that he doesn't hold any affection for me. Nor does he permit my father to show any. I've noticed that whenever my father displays kindness towards me, she invariably finds some pretext to punish me severely. Perhaps that is why my father refrains from treating me well in her presence.
• Consequently, I was raised by nannies and spent much of my childhood at my paternal grandparents’ home, until the day came for me to be sent to a convent school. To their friends, I am merely a token, paraded out to cultivate the illusion of a warm, loving family.
• On that particular day, I understood that my role was to remain largely silent; I was to offer brief responses when addressed and nothing more. Even if the topic was familiar to me, intervention was not an option.
• At the age of ten, I was dispatched to a convent boarding school, where I remained until I turned fifteen. Consequently, I have no friends and am quite shy. My favoured pastimes are reading, music, and dancing — but only in solitude. Currently, I am in my second year of a shipping company administration course, a path chosen by my father. It's well understood that my opinion on the matter is of little consequence.
• I observe as my parents rise to their feet, their smiles broad, and I follow suit. Turning my head, I notice a couple approaching with a child slightly older than myself, strikingly attractive, with a hint of familiarity about them. They arrive and exchange embraces; I stand by, awaiting my turn.
• "Is this your daughter, Eva?" the lady inquires with feigned astonishment. "So beautiful! How old is she?"
• "Emilia, this is my daughter, Isabella. She's just turned twenty," responds my mother, bestowing upon me a smile brimming with ostensible affection as if it were genuine. She has never regarded me thus when we are alone! It's astonishing how convincingly she can feign; all my life I've harboured the feeling that she has never truly loved me. And it was not so long ago that she berated me, branding me her disgrace, yet now she presents me as her prized treasure.
• "Oh, she looks younger!"
• The lady exclaims, looking at me. I can't shake the feeling that I know her, yet I can't recall anything about her. I smile at her, trying to be charming and hoping to draw attention away from my attire.
• I catch the way my mother is looking at me. 'I told you!' her eyes seem to say. 'You should have worn the other dress!' I offer a sheepish smile as I rise to greet them.
• "It's nice to meet you," I say as he extends his hand to me.
• "Nice, indeed, but don't be shy," she replies. At that moment, she turns to her son who has been lingering behind her with a look of annoyance, which instantly transforms into one of remarkable joy upon introduction. 'Not even the best actor could have done better,' I muse.
• "I don't know if you remember Luisito, my son," she says as she takes my hand and kisses me on each cheek. Then she steps aside and there I am, standing before her son, who suddenly triggers a memory. He's the bully who tormented me so much when we were children! His smile strikes me as sly, as if I am prey he is ready to devour.
• "Don't you remember that we used to spend our holidays together?" his mother inquires.
• "I…" The words choke in my throat. "I... I..." I stutter, bewildered by their presence. "What are they doing here?"
• "Don't pretend you don't remember Luisito, darling," says my mother in that insincere tone of hers. I look at her, but remain silent. Isabella hasn't stopped talking about him all these years.
• That? Why would my mother fabricate such a tale? I hadn't spared a thought for him until today because I detest him!
• "Isabella," my father interjects, "a moment ago you seemed to acknowledge remembering him."
• I turn to my father, confusion etched across my face. Did I inadvertently agree to that? Of course, I remember Luis! He was the odious boy, always making me weep, coercing me into actions I abhorred! I've loathed him all my life; he would shadow me and strike when we were unobserved. Then he had the gall to ensure I was blamed for his misdeeds. How could I possibly forget? Indeed, I believe it was because of him that my mother expelled me from our home and consigned me to that convent school.
• "Hi, gorgeous," comes a voice.
• He greets me by leaning in and kissing me on each cheek. I blush at his audacity and recoil as if from the plague. I detest it! The feeling is still there! I had completely forgotten about him, but now that he stands before me, all the resentment I harbour surges forth.
• "Hello," I reply, almost in a whisper, distancing myself as much as possible from him. After the pleasantries, our parents dive into their business discussions. The food arrives; my mother has ordered salmon, which I abhor. This is why I merely toy with my fork, feigning interest in the meal. I startle as I feel a hand on my thigh, prompting everyone to look at me.
• "Did something happen, Isabella?" my mother inquires, casting a knowing glance towards Luis.
• "No, no, Mum, it's fine, sorry, I dropped something," I stammer, catching Luis's smirk as he withdraws his hand. I had managed to push it away. I attempt to create as much distance between us as possible, but he edges closer and places his hand on my thigh once more, his touch creeping upwards, almost to my crotch. I freeze with a gasp.
• "What's the matter, Isabella?" my mother asks, visibly annoyed.
• "Nothing, Mum, I think the meal didn't agree with me. I need to go to the bathroom for a moment, if you'll excuse me," I say, rising before I catch Luis's mocking smile and look.
• I practically run from the room. Seated on the toilet, I give them time to finish eating while I wash my hands. I play a few songs longer than necessary, knowing Mum will be upset, but I cannot bear that man's presence. He will surely find a way to embarrass me in front of everyone.
• After what feels like an adequate wait, ensuring they would have finished their meal, I stand up. Taking a deep breath, I exit the bathroom, only to find Luis waiting for me outside. He corners me with his arms.
• "Did you think you could escape from me, Bella?" Luis asks.
• He holds my face in his hands and kisses me with such force it almost draws blood. I struggle against his grip, but he is stronger than I am. A sob breaks free, prompting him to release me and look on with a smirk. I flee back to my seat at the table, head bowed. This cannot be happening again!
• "Right, everything is settled!" I hear my father announce as Luis takes up a position behind me.
• "Next month we are hosting our children's engagement party!"
• "What did you say?!"