Chapter 91 - At last, home - Part 4

After finishing his meal, Luke turned his focus back to the stack of paperwork that had been left unattended during his little nap. He rubbed both of his eyes, attempting to shake off the lethargy and return his attention to the task at hand.

Though I had offered him my help, he told me that there would be no need for my help as he could still manage to do it alone. Furthermore, he claimed that he was used to working alone, hence his refusal.

As I had achieved what I came here for, I didn't want to bother him any longer while he was working, so I decided to leave for the library as planned. 

"Where are you going?" he asked, raising his eyes from the paper to me. 

"To the library," I said, brushing off my dress and preparing to leave. "I don't want to bother you."

"Rabbit, you're not bothering me. As much as your scent distracts me, and as much as my mind keeps on running to you, I would much prefer having you with me."

"Should I... not go, then?" I bit back a laugh, cringing a little at his sudden cheesiness. I can't seem to get used to the way he talks way too sweetly sometimes. Perhaps the whole pack would be surprised when they heard him talk in this manner.

"Yes. Stay with me," he said as he scribbled on a piece of parchment, "Make yourself at home—though it might be a little difficult in this... messy office," he frowned as he looked around, only now noticing that something was different. "Did you perhaps tidy the office while I was asleep?" 

"I did." Oh no. Did I make a mistake? "Should I have not done so? I just thought you would like it better if your office was less cluttered. Do you want me to restore it to its previous state? I still haven't gotten rid of all the—"

"Relax," he chuckled, raising his palm. "I just wanted to thank you. I was irritated by the mess and was planning to clean it all up, but unfortunately, I didn't have the right time to do it. Thank you for your help—it is greatly appreciated." He sent me a smile, a little too dashing for my heart. 

"It's—It's nothing," I faltered in response to his gratitude, feeling warmth creeping into my cheeks. It felt quite pleasant to be appreciated like this. Perhaps I should do this more often. 

Perhaps I should search for something to do—a job—might Luke agree. I was way too idle for my liking, way too much time in hand. If I ask, will he let me have a job? A job other than being his secretary—that is. 

"Luke," I called out, and he hummed in response. "Can you give me a job?"

"What? My secretary?" He joked, and I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn't appear to be willing to let me have my way. It would make no difference to what I'm doing now if I were his secretary. I would still have nothing to do.

"No, not your secretary," I frowned. 

"Then what?" he wondered, his gaze moving across the parchment in his palm. "Other than being my secretary, there is no other vacant job. However, the secretary position is always available for you." He emphasized the 'always' as if implying that it was my only choice, not forgetting to let that annoying smirk of his splatter across his face.

I huffed, not even wasting my time thinking of accepting his offer. Seeing it, he threw a hand to his ċhėst, pretending that my response had hurt him. 

Perhaps, to other's eyes, to live without having to work was a great luxury. However, to me, that was not the case at all. I needed a distraction. A distraction to keep my mind from drifting into unnecessary thoughts—unnecessary memories.

There were days where I would silently stare at the sky, and then, all of a sudden, their whispers would ring in the back of my head. I hated them. The voices. The memories. The people. 

She deserves it.

No wonder her father loathes her.

She killed her mother.

If I could, I would like to erase all the memories I have of them—but that would mean erasing most of my memories as well. Tragic, I know. 

Luke, sensing my distress, dropped his pen and asked, "Rather than a job, don't you have anything that you want to do? A hobby, perhaps?" 

A hobby. I had never thought of one. What do I want to do? What do I like to do? I could feel the frown on my face deepen, thinking about the answers to those questions. I had never had the opportunity to think about such things before, as all that I could think about was whether or not I would still be alive the next day—or two days after, three days, four days.

It was a nice change of pace, I guess. Yes, rather than thinking of depressing thoughts, a light question like this is a lot better. Maybe—just maybe—I could finally learn, little by little, how to break free from my nightmares, how to break free from the chains that have bound me for years. 

"Violet?" he called, tearing me away from my thoughts. "Did you hear my question?"

"Yes, I did," I smiled. "A hobby, you ask? I've never had one. Can you suggest a few activities that I could try as my pastime?"

"I would say, for one, being my secretary would definitely suffice as—" 

"Not that," I quickly intervened, and he couldn't help but throw his head back in laughter.

This time, in all seriousness, he gave me a few real suggestions. "There is quite a lot that you can do, actually. You can try to learn how to cook with Bob, how to sew with Emma, how to play the piano with Andrew—I know, it must be quite the surprise, but he is unexpectedly good at playing the piano," he explained before I could ask, earning a chuckle from me. "Perhaps, if you would rather do outdoor activities, you can train your muscles with me. It has been quite some time too, no?" he winked. 

"I will think about your suggestions and see which one appeals to me the most," I said, and he nodded in response. 

"Very well," he smiled. 

A strange, unfamiliar feeling lingered in my ċhėst. It appeared the moment I was given a choice, a choice to choose for my own. It was unusual for me to have such a choice, as I usually only did what was asked of me—or what I was allowed to do. It seemed to me that this was how freedom felt like. To be able to decide for myself. It felt... liberating. 

I used to think about the purpose of living—my purpose of living. Why was I born into this world? Was it only to entertain both my father and Fiona with their vile pastime? To live under torture? Or to spend the rest of my life regretting the choice I have made? 

But, coming here, I came to realize it. The answer was none of the above, but rather for me to enjoy life, to learn and experience new things, to find something to like and someone to love. But first and foremost—it was for me to love myself, for me to accept myself. 

"Do you want to take a quick stroll outside?" Luke rose up and walked away from his desk, leaving the paperwork behind. He then took his coat, sneaking his arms into it. "I felt a little stuffy after staying here for so long."

"I feel just the same," I quickly smile at his offer, rising from my seat to smooth out the creases of my dress. When I was finished, I offered him my hand, which he stared at for a second too long. "What?" 

"No, it's just—I think it's your first time offering me your hand." He scratched the nape of his neck, a smile slowly forming on his face. "Usually, it was always me offering my hand—not the other way around. It's new and... nice."

"With time, people change—for better and for worse. But in this case, however, perhaps I've changed for the better."