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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3

Harper was six when her mother was gone.

Before that, Mommy was still there.

"Hold still, little bird. We're making you beautiful for the day." Her fingers gently braided Harper's hair each morning. 

The jasmine scent surrounded her wrists.

"I'm already beautiful."

"Yes, you are. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Those mornings were their time. Henry would already be gone to work, leaving just the two of them in the quiet house. 

Evelyn would make Harper's favorite pancakes. And the little girl laughed as she was eating them with her fingers.

"Daddy says ..nom.. ladies use fork..nom.. And nife…" Harper was saying while chewing.

"Daddy says a lot of things. And sometimes ladies do what makes them happy." 

At bedtime, she was reading stories about heroes who climbed mountains and sailed ships far away. And Harper would ask her:

"Can I be like them?"

"You can be anything you want, little bird. "Evelyn's smile was edgy. 

"Don't let anyone cage you."

Harper liked to watch the way her mother moved through the house as she was dancing. She was humming songs under her breath that Henry never wanted to hear. 

Eventually, there were fights. Hushed at first, then louder.

"You're selfish."

"I'm honest. So let me, Henry."

"This is our life. Our family." 

"I have my dreams, too," Evelyn's voice sounded like broken glass.

Harper would press her ear to her bedroom door, trying to understand why Mommy sounded so angry, why Daddy sounded so hurt.

The last morning, Evelyn had brushed Harper's hair as well. Her fingers shook slightly, and she kept stopping to wipe her eyes.

"Mommy?"

"Come here, little bird."

"Why are you crying?"

Evelyn knelt down. 

"Sometimes grown-ups have to make difficult choices." 

"..." She kissed Harper's forehead. 

"But I need you to remember something, okay?"

Harper nodded.

"You are not responsible for other people's happiness. Not mine, not Daddy's, not anyone's. Your job is to be yourself. Completely and fearlessly. Promise me that?"

"I promise."

The next morning, Evelyn was gone.

Like a dream upon waking. 

Not died, just gone.

Evelyn's side of the closet was empty. Her presence erased so thoroughly it was as if she'd never existed at all.

Except for the jasmine.

That lingered for weeks in the master bedroom. Harper desperately sought it. But even traces of her mother's scent were no longer here.

"Where's Mommy?" she sobbed.

He'd looked down at her with eyes that had suddenly gone gray and distant. Anything vital had been carved out of them overnight. She was too young to understand.

"It's just us now, Harper. Mommy had to go away." 

"When is she coming back?"

"She's not," Henry's voice was hollow as an empty house. 

"Why?"

"..."

She pressed her small face against his leg. "Are you going to leave too?"

Henry's fingers were trembling slightly. "Never. I'll never leave you, Harper."

These words were Henry's promise to his daughter.. 

Harper learned early that her father was important.

She would sit in his office for hours. He was cold, sharp. Nothing like the gentle tone he used with her before.

His eyes started to slide past her to the computer screen, to the documents scattered across his desk, to anything but her face.

"That's beautiful," he said when she showed him her drawings, not looking. "I need to finish this call."

The calls were always more important. The meetings, the deals, the endless stream of men in expensive suits. 

But sometimes late at night, when he thought she was asleep, Harper would hear him in the hallway outside her room. Just standing there. As if he was making sure she was still there, still his.

Harper's first real decision came at eight.

"I want to take dance lessons!" She happily announced over breakfast.

Henry glanced up from his newspaper. "Dance lessons?"

"Sarah says it makes her feel like she's flying." She said with a dreamy tone. 

"Yes, I suppose that would be... appropriate for a young lady."

Harper's heart sank. She didn't want to be appropriate. She wanted to fly.

The instructor's voice cut through the room like a whip. "Your father pays for perfection, little Owen. Again."

She would snap when Harper stumbled through a combination, her legs shaking.

"Again."

She tried. Failed.

"What would your father think of this sloppy work?"

"He'd be disappointed." Harper's chest tightened. 

"Then don't disappoint him."

At the performance, she spotted him in the front row. She got Henry's attention, and she was happy about it. But after:

"Good," he said, his hands heavy on her small shoulders.

"Did you like it?" She had never gotten her answer.

 Never said he loved watching her dance, loved seeing her happy. Was he ever proud of her?

At ten, Harper made her second decision.

"I want to go to boarding school!"

Henry's fork froze halfway to his mouth. "Boarding school?"

"Sarah's sister goes. She says it's fun."

"No."

Gray eyes were fixed on her with an intensity that made her squirm in her chair.

"Why not?"

"You have everything you need here."

Here. In a mausoleum he'd built around them. A place with the absence of laughter. Where Harper ate dinner alone most nights. Where her tutors came and went like ghosts. 

"You have me," he added, his eyes hard. "That's enough."

"It's not." Her voice broke. "I'm lonely. I'm always lonely."

"..." Gilt vanished as quickly as it came from Henry's face..

"I thought.."

"You thought wrong." 

The conversation was over.

She ran from the table, her footsteps echoing down empty hallways. He didn't follow.

Then her nightmares began.

She would wake gasping, her heart hammering against her ribs.Then she would find Henry standing in her doorway. Always watching.

"Bad dream?" 

Harper usually would nod, pulling her hands to her chest.

"It's safe here," then he would smooth her hair. "Nothing can hurt you while I'm watching." 

"..." 

"Get some sleep." Henry kissed her forehead. 

"What if I wanted to leave someday?" she'd asked one night. The question slipped out before she could stop it.

For a long moment, he'd said nothing. He looked at her with those gray eyes that seemed to be full of fear. 

Harper had lain awake for hours afterward, staring at the ceiling. 

In her thoughts, she was starting to question that her being watched wasn't the same as being loved. 

At fourteen, Harper asked about her mother for the last time.

She'd been going through old photo albums. Most of them were carefully curated records of Henry's business achievements. 

But then, buried at the back, she found something different.

A single photograph. Faded edges.

Her mother, full of joy. Actually laughing, her head thrown back, hair catching the light. She was young. Younger than Harper had ever seen her in pieces of her childhood memories. 

And beside her, Henry. But not the Henry she knew. This one was smiling with his whole face. His arm wrapped around Evelyn's waist, as if he'd never imagined she might slip away.

They looked happy. Genuinely happy.

Harper had stared at her parents, memorizing every detail. The way her mother's dress caught the wind. The way Henry's eyes crinkled at the corners. The way they looked at each other was as if the rest of the world had simply ceased to exist.

She did not know Henry could be like this.

That night at dinner, she'd placed the photograph beside his plate.

"Did you love her?" she whispered.

Henry had gone very still when he saw it. His breathing became careful and controlled.

"Where did you find this?"

"Does it matter?" Harper was trembling. "Tell me what happened to her."

"Harper.."

"Tell me why she left."

The silence was hurting. Henry picked up the photograph with reverent fingers, as if it were made of spun glass.

"She was young," he said finally. "Too young to understand what responsibility meant."

"..."

His lips became very tight. "It's the only answer you're getting."

Harper had pushed back from the table. Teenage hormones were overriding. 

"She left because of you." She screamed. "Because you tried to control her! The way you control everything else."

The words hung in the air. Henry's face went very white, then blushed.

"Harper.."

"She chose to be free, didn't she?"

Slap. No warning.

"She left us," Henry said, his voice shaking. "She abandoned you. And if you think that's admirable… then you're more like her than I thought."

Her cheek stung. Harper was staring at him with wide eyes. He'd never hit her before. Had never even raised his voice. 

But the memory of her mother's had cracked the careful facade her father had built. Henry had taken the photograph and walked out of the room. 

He left Harper alone with her sudden, crystalline understanding that her mother was smart to run. And she was cruel enough to leave her here.

Harper hadn't understood what the promise to her mother meant until it was too late to keep it.

She was already caged. But there was no point in running.

Harper was going to destroy everything her parents cared about instead.

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