InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity Redux: Vivication ❯ Senkuro ( Chapter 49 )

Fai sat up, blinking slowly as the burgeoning daylight filtered through the windows.

He sighed, wrapping his arms around his knees as he frowned at the entirely too-still room.

It did very little good for him to know that Saori wasn’t that far away—just through the doorway, actually—in his mother’s old room.  ‘He did it on purpose,’ Fai thought with a snort.

‘Can you blame him?  She’s his daughter—his pride and joy—his baby girl.  What do you think he was going to do?’

Fai made a face since he understood that part of it.  That Saori had no qualms about going along with it, though, bothered Fai so much more than the idea that her father had opted to escort her up to bed without stopping at the antechamber door like anyone else with any viable manners might have.  Nope, he had to escort her to her own room, and the look he’d dealt Fai had spoken volumes.  The man wasn’t dumb, it seemed, not that Fai thought anything of the sort.  He’d very deliberately stepped over to Saori’s pretty little bed, making a show of sniffing her pillows that smelled nothing at all like her since she wasn’t in the habit of sleeping in there, anyway.

On the one hand, if he weren’t so annoyed, he might have to respect a man who cared so deeply about his daughter.  On the other?  It was dead damn infuriating, too, especially when it directly upended Fai’s ability to sleep.  Saori had shot him a pleading kind of look, though—one designed to stop Fai from pitching a tai-youkai sized fit over the inconvenience and irritation that something as intensely personal as where either of them were to sleep was being called into question at all . . .

And, as far as he knew, Seiji was still camped out in the antechamber to make sure that Fai didn’t try to go fetch her—or to sneak into her bed, for that matter.

“So . . . My daughter tells me that you were sleeping off an overindulgence instead of accompanying her to the airport to pick us up,” Seiji remarked when he stepped into the office about half an hour after Saori had so uncharacteristically woke him up.  “Did you have a nice nap, Demyanov-sama?”

The sarcasm in the dog-youkai’s voice was thick enough to choke a horse, but Fai managed to cover his own irritation at being called on the carpet, as it were.  “I apologize,” he gritted out, hoping that Saori didn’t catch his tone.  “I was . . . challenged, you might say, and, as you know, I cannot back down from a formal challenge.”

Seiji grunted, straightening his back, pinning Fai with a rather formidable glower.  His coloring was the same as Saori, but where she was entirely cute all the time, her father?  Not so much.  Nope, the man had the fatherly glare down to a science, and Fai had to wonder just how many potential beaux he’d sent, running for cover over the years . . . “I’d hardly call a drunken sumo match, ‘challenged’, Demyanov-sama.”

Saori cleared her throat.  “Tou-chan, Fai and Rinji won, you know,” she pointed out.

Seiji grunted.  “Of course, they did—all due to Rinji’s natural abilities, I have little doubt.  Besides . . . Losing to a bear?  Lose to a bear, and you’d be better off not to ever show your face around me.”

“Tou-chan!” Saori scolded, crossing her arms over her chest.

Seiji frowned at her.  “Why don’t you go help your mother get settled in, Saori.”

She sighed, mostly because it was more of an order than a request, and the tone of his voice rankled Fai’s nerves.  Sure, she was his daughter, but she wasn’t a child.  Before he could say anything, though, she gave him an encouraging little wave and slipped out of the office, leaving the men alone, and didn’t that just figure?

Neither said anything for a few minutes.  Digging his hands into the pockets of his dress pants, Seiji wandered around the office as though he were assessing Fai simply by what he found.  It was possible, Fai supposed.  Even so, as the seconds stretched out, he finally turned to face Fai once more, his gaze narrowed, head slightly tilted back, obviously assessing him slowly, deliberately . . . “Is it true?  Is my daughter your mate?”

Fai didn’t blink.  “She is.”

“And did you know this when you came and took her from my home?  From her home?”

“I . . . I didn’t know it then,” Fai admitted.  “I only knew that I . . . That I had to see her again.”

Seiji nodded slowly—very slowly.  “And you knew that Sesshoumaru and I had come here to talk to you, didn’t you?  Still, you decided to take it upon yourself to abscond with my daughter—to not tell me what you were doing?  To take the coward’s way out of it?”

Dangerously close to taking complete and utter offense to Seiji’s choice of words, Fai had to count to ten before he trusted himself to speak.  That the man loved his daughter was a given.  But to blatantly insult Fai’s honor was taking it entirely out of bounds, as far as he was concerned.  “It wasn’t until I was there that I found out that you were here,” he said, unable to keep his own irritation out of his voice.  “Your mate suggested that I take Saori with me. I thought it would be the wisest course, to keep Saori from being put in the middle of things, but if you call that cowardly, then so be it.  I call it caring about your daughter—my mate’s—feelings.”

Blinking as he realized that he was growling out loud, just from the memory of that unpleasant confrontation, Fai couldn’t help the irrational need to lash out at something.  Unfortunately, there was nothing at all in front of him that would possibly suffice.

‘Don’t be sore because he raked you over the coals, Fai . . . It’s a father’s responsibility . . . If you ever have a little girl, you’ll be just as bad.’

‘The hell you say!  If we have a daughter, I’ll throw her at her mate; see if I don’t.’

‘Oh, you will not!  Now, you’re just being an ass . . .’

Fai grunted since he wasn’t about to admit that he might not do what he’d just threatened.  ‘Fine.  Then we just won’t have a daughter.  Simple.’

‘You’re not going to—? Are you serious?  You realize, right, that you can’t actually dictate the gender of your children.  May you live long and be blessed with many daughters, idiot tai-youkai . . .’

‘Un huh . . . That’s why I’ll throw them at their mates,’ he maintained stubbornly.

‘You’re so stupid.  Why are you so stupid?  Surely you realize just how stupid you’re being, right . . .?’

Tossing aside the duvet, he rolled out of bed and heaved another sigh.  It was unbelievable, really.  There wasn’t another way to put it.  Hopefully, the same thing wouldn’t occur tonight.  After all, Seiji couldn’t possibly be that ridiculously overprotective, could he?

‘Don’t discount the ability of a man to overprotect his daughter.’

‘You know, if you’re not going to help me, then you could just shut up.’

‘Help you, what?’

‘Help me figure out how to get some time with Saori without her father breathing down our backs, for starters . . .’

‘Oh, now, it’s not that bad—’

‘Debatable.’

'And remember . . .’

‘Remember, what?’

‘Well, you know . . . You invited them . . .’

Stopping short at that nasty reminder, Fai heaved a heavy sigh as his youkai-voice chuckled without mercy in his head.  Yeah, he did do that, didn’t he?  It figured, didn’t it?

Rubbing his face as he stomped into the bathroom, Fai growled as he kicked the door closed.  Yep, the whole thing was all his own doing.  It didn’t really make it any easier to deal with, though.  Not at all . . .

Raised voices broke through Saori’s fitful slumber, and she sat up, rubbing her eyes, feeling as though she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep, as she struggled to make sense of what was going on just outside her door.

She hadn’t slept well last night.  Having been so unceremoniously escorted to her room by her doting father, there hadn’t been any way to sneak into Fai’s room—not after her father had decided to lock the inner adjoining door and slip the key into his pocket.  On one level, it was kind of silly, wasn’t it?  After all, she shouldn’t have to sneak anywhere, should she?  On the other hand, she just didn’t have it in her to argue with her dear father, either, even when he was being a little—or a lot—over the edge.

‘Except you did try to sneak out last night, to sneak into Fai’s room . . .’

Wrinkling her nose, she shook her head and smothered a sigh.  Sure, she’d tried, only to find out that her father had taken up residence on the floor with his back against her door, and her poor mother had no choice but to try to sleep on the sofa nearby since she didn’t like having to be away from her mate, even for one night . . .

Stumbling out of bed when the voices grew louder, Saori frowned as she opened the door and peered into the antechamber.  She should have known, shouldn’t she?  Crossing her arms over her chest as she watched the debacle unfolding, she slowly shook her head, leaned her shoulder in the doorframe.

“You realize, don’t you, that you’re guarding a fully-grown woman who is more than old enough to make her own choices as to where she sleeps and who she chooses to sleep with,” Fai growled, standing toe to toe with her father.

Seiji, however, wasn’t about to back down, either.  “Is that right?  Well, until you marry her, then you really have no say in the matter, and since you haven’t mentioned that at all, then I’ll assume that you aren’t exactly in a rush to see it done, now are you, Your Grace?”

“Just because we haven’t discussed it yet doesn’t mean that I don’t want to—You know, with all due respect, you don’t know a single thing about me, but you’re entirely too ready to write me off as a complete bastard, aren’t you?  Do you honestly think that your daughter would be foolish enough to want to be with someone who wouldn’t have her best interests in mind all of the time?” Fai snarled.

“What I see,” Seiji growled, taking another step closer to Fai, glowering at him as though he were absolutely the enemy, “is a young man who takes it upon himself to change the rules to suit his whims without any regard as to what her family might think—what we feel might be best for her.  She was wrong to kidnap you, but she’s young and impetuous—which, you should agree, are not good traits to have when contemplating, devoting the rest of your life to someone when lust is the only thing in your young head . . . Of course, she likes you.  All wrapped up in a pretty package, the first man who lavished her with attention . . . That means nothing to me, you realize, when it comes to my daughter’s ultimate happiness!”

Saori gasped sharply, though the sound went unnoticed by the two men who were still facing each other down.  She felt all the blood recede from her face, only to come rushing back a moment later in livid heat as she blinked quickly, trying to stave back the tears that rose to cloud her vision.

“Tou-san.”

Both men turned, stared at Rinji, who was standing the hall doorway, arms crossed over his chest, making no bones at all as he shook his head at his father.  His irritation was easily discerned, and, as Seiji looked at him, Rinji nodded curtly toward Saori—still standing in her doorway—where no one else had noticed her at all.

Staring at the floor, unable to look anyone in the eye, she said nothing as Aiko sighed and hurried over, wrapping an arm around Saori’s shoulders as she glowered at Seiji and Fai by turns and herded Saori back into her room once more, closing the door behind them.

“Saori . . .”

Quickly, almost furiously, shaking her head, Saori cleared her throat, glowered at the floor as she struggled to keep the tears in check before they had a chance to fall.  She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but her voice wouldn’t come.

Aiko gently but firmly pushed on her shoulders until she sank down on the edge of the bed before kneeling before her, reaching up, gently pushing her hair out of her face.  “Tou-chan . . . He didn’t mean that the way it sounded,” Aiko said, but her explanation sounded so empty to Saori’s ears.  “He’s . . . He’s just concerned; that’s all . . .  I mean, he’s right in a sense.  Finding your mate—committing yourself to one person for the rest of your life . . . That is a big deal.  I’m not saying that Fai isn’t your mate.  I think he is.  Your father . . .”

“I’m not stupid, kaa-chan,” Saori murmured, her voice, thick, ragged, tight.  “You told me to listen to my youkai-voice, and . . . and I have.  It told me . . .”  She swallowed hard, tried to force down the lump that grew larger in her throat.  “It . . . told me . . .”

Aiko nodded slowly, her gentle smile, genuine, even if she did look a little sad.  Then she smoothed Saori’s hair back once more before cupping her cheek tenderly.  “Then that’s how it should be,” she said.  “Exactly how it should be.”

Saori opened her mouth to speak again, but to her horror, she choked out a sob instead.  Aiko uttered a crooning type sound as she rose on her knees, wrapping her daughter in a tight and warm hug.  “It’s okay, my girl . . .” she whispered, gently rubbing her back.  “Tou-chan . . .” She grimaced.  Saori didn’t see it.  “Tou-chan . . . He’s wrong this time . . .”

Frowning as he stared out over the vast expanse of the Demyanov estate, Seiji let out a deep breath, absently feeling the fingers of the wind as it lifted his bangs with tender and capricious fingers.

He really hadn’t meant to lose his temper with Demyanov-sama.  He really hadn’t.  Frustrated, certainly, after feeling as though everyone in his family had conspired against him, especially after he’d prided himself on being a fair and understanding father for so long, he hadn’t meant to lash out, hadn’t meant to make it sound as though Saori weren’t smart enough to figure things out on her own . . . and he sighed.

After she’d gone into her room, he’d started to go after her, only to be stopped when Rinji grabbed his arm, scowled at him.  “I don’t think there’s a thing you can say right now to fix her,” he said, narrowing his eyes on his father.  “Let kaa-san handle it.”

He’d almost lashed out at Rinji then, but the logic in his son’s words had stung him.

He’d retreated in here to gather his thoughts, to figure out just how he ought to go about, apologizing to Saori.  He made a face.  He’d thought that he’d outgrown that horrible habit of speaking first and thinking later long ago—long before he’d met and fallen for Aiko.

Funny how a daughter could twist one inside out.  After having spent the last nearly twenty-one years, worrying and fussing over the girl who had stolen his heart the moment he’d set eyes on her, it was a difficult thing, to let go, to take that step back, to realize that maybe . . . Maybe he wasn’t the hero he once was to her . . .

“Cooling your head, are you?”

Wincing inwardly at the sound of that voice, Seiji didn’t turn to look at her.  “If you’re here to tell me what a baka I was, I already know,” he told her.

Aiko sighed, shuffled across the balcony to stand beside him.  “Care to tell me what that was all about?” she asked.  She wasn’t happy with him, he could tell, but her tone told him plainly that she was at least willing to listen.

“I . . . I can’t help it,” he growled.  “I look at that man, and I . . . I just want to . . . to . . . to hurt him . . .”

“Because he’s unworthy of Saori, or because he’s taking away your little girl?” she asked softly.

“Both!” he snapped.  Then, he sighed.  “A little bit of both,” he went on, a little sadder, a little rawer.  “She’s not supposed to . . . But she . . .”  He sighed again.  “He . . . He really is taking her away, isn’t he?”

“Is that what you think?”

He winced, his gaze clouding over as he struggled for answers.  “It’s what I feel . . .”

“Hmm . . .” Letting out a deep breath, Aiko turned, leaned her elbows against the railing.  “Shall I tell you something?  Something I’ve never told you before?”

“Keeping secrets from me, Aiko?”

She smiled.  “A woman never tells all her secrets.  I think Saori will be much the same.”

“Okay.  What?”

She turned to face him, still leaning on the railing, reaching out with her free hand to lay it upon his arm.  “Even after I married you, I never stopped needing otou-san,” she said simply.  “Even now . . . As safe as I feel with you, there are still moments when I need him, and that’s okay, because it’s a totally different kind of need.  You see, you’re always going to be her tou-chan.  In a way, you’ll always be her anchor—the one she’ll always know is there to catch her, no matter what.  Her future might lie with Fai-sama, but when she looks back?  When she sees the foundation of love and support that you gave her?  Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” he growled.  Shaking his head, he grimaced.  “I don’t think it’ll ever be enough . . .”

“Except children are only given to us for a short, short time, Seiji . . . You know that.  You told me that, remember?  When Rinji told me that he was ready to move out?  When I wanted him to stay home just a little while longer?  You told me . . . We just borrow them.  We nurture them.  We teach them.  Then, we let them go, and we watch them fly . . .”

“I was wrong,” he grumbled.

Aiko laughed softly.  “You weren’t.  You were absolutely right.”

He grunted.  “She wasn’t supposed to find her mate till she was . . . fifty . . . three-hundred-fifty . . .”

She smiled.  “I seem to remember being twenty the first time I met a certain man . . . A man who could see right into my head—into my heart.  He’s a good man—a sweet man . . . He’s my mate, who is strong and wise and loving and kind . . . Who would never hurt his beloved daughter . . . I’d like to have him back now, if you please.”

He wasn’t quite ready to give up the fight, and he snorted indelicately.  “You lied to me.”

She blinked.  “I did?”

He nodded.  “You did.  Back when we were talking about having another child, you said if we had a daughter, that she’d be mine forever.”

She laughed softly, gently.  “I didn’t.  I said she’d be your baby forever.  I don’t believe I ever said she wouldn’t grow up, though.”

His frown turned a little sad as he watched Saori.  She’d stepped out of the castle with Demyanov at her side, walking along the flagstone path that meandered through the gardens.  They stopped long enough for him to pick a flower for her.  A flash of memory, half-forgotten over time—flickered to life: a small girl with her deep gray hair up in piggy tails, carefully bending down, picking a flower, just for him . . .

“He’s going to fix what I broke, isn’t he?” Seiji murmured.

Aiko leaned against his arm as she watched the couple in question.  “He might try, but you know, she won’t be okay until you talk to her.”

Rubbing his forehead, Seiji winced.  “I guess . . . I guess I can let him have this moment.”

Aiko leaned up to kiss his cheek.  “You’re a good man, Seiji—and an excellent father, too.”

He didn’t respond to that as he watched his daughter, walking with her mate . . .

“I'm sorry I lost my temper with your father.”

Biting her lip, Saori dared a glance at Fai, only to find him, staring out into the distance with a thoughtful scowl on his features.  She sighed, tucking a long strand of hair behind her ear.  “He’s right, you know,” she forced herself to say.  “I . . . Well, I didn’t have boyfriends, so I . . .”

Fai sighed, grabbing her hand, tugging her off the path and under the shade of an aged tree, to sit on an old wooden bench that faced a beautiful flower garden, awash in a riot of summer colors.  “Let me ask you something, Saori.  Are you sad that you never had boyfriends because you wanted them or because you think that not having had boyfriends would somehow make me see you as someone inexperienced or . . . naïve?”

She stared at her hands, fiddling with the hem of her delicate pink sweater.  “I’m not very sophisticated or anything,” she ventured quietly.

He nodded.  “Do you know that people would bring their daughters here for me to meet?  All kinds of girls—sophisticated, worldly, smart women . . . And not one of them held my attention for more than a few minutes.  They were shined up and polished and knew just what to say, when to say it . . . I hated it.  They were too polished, too smooth, like . . . like river rocks . . . You . . . You challenge me.  If I say something you don’t agree with, you dig in your heels, and you don’t let go.  You’re all those things to me that those women would never have been—and I . . . I have never—would never—want you to be anything like them.  You’re far more beautiful to me because . . . because you don’t try to be what you aren’t . . .”

“R-Really?” she breathed, shooting him a wide-eyed glance.

“Really,” he told her.  Suddenly, though, he sighed.  “Are they going to keep sleeping in the antechamber to make sure you stay in your room, and I stay in mine?”

Biting her lip, she managed a wan little smile that was even more endearing to him with the hint of a blush that stained her cheeks.  “I don’t know . . . It’s kind of annoying, isn’t it?”

He snorted.  “Maybe we should just get married.  I mean, they’re here.  Your grandfather will be here tomorrow.  Your uncles should be back soon, too . . . Of course, if you want a big wedding . . .”

She blinked.  “But I don’t,” she blurted, shaking her head as she looked properly horrified by the idea of the large, ostentatious wedding ceremonies that were typical in her family.  “I mean, I guess weddings are nice enough, but I’ve always thought that they were more for the family than for the couple.  Does that sound dumb?”

He shook his head.  “I thought all women wanted big weddings.”

“Maybe those women you were talking about—the ones you said didn’t interest you.”  She was silent for a few minutes.  Fai stood up, wandered over to pick some more flowers for her.

The seeds had already been planted in her mind, though, and they were taking root.  To marry Fai that soon?  Sure, it was what she wanted, but she’d always thought that it would have to be a large affair, just to accommodate her family.  Still, the idea . . .

“Fai?”

“Hmm?” he intoned, a little distracted as he inspected all the flowers.

“Let’s do it.”

“Do what?”

Pressing a hand against her tummy to quell the sudden rush of butterflies that flipped her belly upside down in a very pleasant kind of way, she laughed.  “Get married.  Tomorrow.”

He stopped dead still, slowly turned to look at her, as though he were trying to see if she was being serious or not.  Her smile widened.  “You . . . You really want to?” He shook his head.  “I don’t know about tomorrow.  It’s normally a little more involved than that.  Maybe, though . . .”

She nodded.  “Is that a problem?”

He shrugged.  “Well, let me make a few phone calls . . . I don’t think it’ll be a problem, but it might not be tomorrow.  Usually, it takes a month or so to get everything done.  Maybe I can speed it up, but I’m pretty sure that tomorrow is probably out of the question.  But . . . What about your family?”

“Kaa-chan and tou-chan and nii-chan . . . and like you said, ojii-chan and obaa-chan will be here . . . But you know, I . . . I think I’d like for the children to be here, too . . .”

“The children?” he echoed thoughtfully.  “The orphans?”

She nodded.  “I . . . I want them to see that there are good things waiting for them, too . . .” she said.

He considered that for a moment, then nodded.  “All right,” he allowed.  “I tell you what.  I’ll call and see what I can do about getting the necessary papers filed, and you and your mother can plan it out, but . . .” He grimaced.  “Can you ask your mother if she could talk your father into sleeping in their own room?”

She laughed.  “I can try . . .”

He sighed, stepping over to hand her the flowers he’d picked before scooping her up and settling her on his lap on the bench.  “Try really hard, Saori,” he breathed, letting his forehead drop against hers.  “I didn’t sleep for shit last night.”

She smiled, closing her eyes for a moment, resting her head on his chest as she brought the flowers up to breathe in deep.  “I didn’t, either,” she admitted.

He frowned as he pulled her closer, more securely, against his chest.  “I’m . . . I’m sorry that I lost my temper with your father . . .”

“Tou-chan should apologize to you,” she replied with a shrug.  “Those things he said . . .”

Fai made a face.  “He loves you,” he said simply.  “I was just . . . frustrated . . .”

“I know,” she said, leaning up to kiss him.  “Me, too . . .”

Saori slipped into the office as quietly as she could as Fai dropped the phone receiver back into the cradle and spared a moment to smile at her.  “Am I interrupting official business?” she asked, slipping across the room and behind him, gently rubbing his shoulders.

He half-sigh, half-groaned.  “Nope,” he said.  “The best I can do is a week,” he told her.  “That’s how long it takes for them to finish the paperwork on their end and issue the license.  I already talked to the officer, and he said he’d be happy to come out for the ceremony, so, we won’t have to drive there . . . Are you sure you want to skip the traditional church service?”

“If I wanted a traditional wedding, for me, that’d be Shinto,” she remarked.  “It’s the one by the official that matters, right?  So, I’m good with that.”

He shook his head.  “After we get the children squared away, if we can get things calmed down, do you want to go on a honeymoon?”

She leaned down, clasping her hands over his chest as she kissed his cheek.  “I just want to be with you,” she told him.

A curt knock on the door interrupted the moment, and Fai heaved a sigh.  “Come in,” he called as Saori stepped away from him.

Seiji stepped into the office, his darkened gaze meeting Fai’s.  He stood still for a moment, like he was gathering his thoughts.  Then he stepped forward, offered them both a low bow.  “I lost my temper earlier and said things that I did not mean,” he stated.  “My apologies, the both of you.”

“Tou-chan,” Saori murmured.  She started around the desk, only to stop abruptly, as though she couldn’t quite decide exactly what she was supposed to do.

Seiji straightened up, and this time, he bowed a second time, but only to Saori.  “You say that he is your mate . . . I accept this . . . and I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean what I said.  I was just . . .”

“You were worried about me,” she whispered.  “Tou-chan . . .”

He finally stood, and Saori hurried over to hug him tight.  He sighed, frowning down at his daughter for a long moment before slowly lifting his gaze—the same bluish-gray gaze as Saori’s—only to meet Fai’s.  “She is precious to me,” he said quietly.  “But you . . .”

Fai stood, nodding slowly, understanding what Seiji was trying to say.

“They love me because I’m their daughter, sister, cousin . . . granddaughter . . . but . . . but I don’t think I’ve ever known if they love me . . .”

She was wrong—so very wrong.  Those words she’d said to him on that night in Australia as the lights shone off the water, as the moonlight gathered in her eyes . . . Their gazes weren’t clouded—her father’s gaze wasn’t clouded—by the myth of a child at all . . .

“Senkuro-san,” he said, addressing her father in the politeness of the language that he understood, even if the rest of his statement was in English, “I ask that you allow me the privilege of marrying your daughter . . . please.”

Seiji looked entirely surprised when Fai bowed at the waist and held it as he waited for his answer.  Then he sighed.  “You . . . You can marry her,” he allowed in a sad kind of tone.  “But don’t ask me to give her away.  I . . . I can’t do that.”

Only then did Fai straighten up, and he smiled.  “I think I’ll take what I can get,” he said.

Saori choked out a sound that was caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, hugging her father tight for a long moment.

Seiji held onto her, then let go, only to take her hand and lead her around the desk to Fai.  “If you’ll excuse me, I . . .” He cleared his throat, his eyes exceptionally bright.  “I think I hear Aiko calling me.”

Wiping her eyes, Saori leaned against Fai, her hand resting on his chest as they watched Seiji slip out of the room.

Fai glanced down at her, gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze.  “You’re wrong, you know,” he said quietly in the silence that had fallen after her father’s departure.

She looked confused as she turned her head to stare at him.  “About what?”

He shrugged.  “You said to me once that you didn’t know if your family loved you or just the idea of you,” he reminded her.  “That man . . . He loves you.”

She gasped, her eyes widening, only to choke out a harsh sob as she buried her face against his chest.

Fai sighed, rubbing her back, kissing her forehead.  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

She nodded, but her tears kept coming, and Fai . . . He held her as a tender smile quirked his lips . . .