True love is one of the oldest delusions the human race has allowed itself to keep. The reason for this couldn't be a greater mystery. There must be something in it we need, something we can't control. Otherwise, we would have eradicated the nonsense long ago.

Rain came down in sheets against my windshield, but I drove on despite the blinding downpour. A sharp turn made my tires spin on the wet streets. Straightening the wheel of my car, I shook my head, willing my drifting thoughts to return to the road as I sped down the streets of New York.

I had to get home. What had started as a knot in my stomach had grown. Soon the pressure would release my dinner or close my throat - I wasn't sure which. With an overwhelming swell of nausea, I contemplated my error. For some reason, I had said yes. It could have been the disparaging hope in Garrett's eyes or the way Maria's recently unburdened left hand clutched the armchair, but for one reason or another I couldn't bring myself to disappoint them again. Tonight was Garrett's fourth proposal and something in me couldn't refuse him. Not after what he had suffered on my account last year.

To bypass some of the New York City traffic, I swerved into a side street. Lightning flashed in front of me and lit the street for a moment. Pedestrians rushed for shelter, their umbrellas bobbing in swarms down the pavement. Garrett occupied my mind so completely that I didn't notice the woman crossing the street until my car was seconds from hitting her. I slammed on my brakes to stop inches from where she stood. My heart sunk in horror. The rain had slowed a little, but the combination of darkness and dampness outside my tall brick apartment building made her hard to see. She had stopped in the street, probably more shaken than I felt. I turned my wheel to pull into a spot in front of the sign reading Uptown Apartments. The woman came toward the car, meeting me on the puddled sidewalk when I burst out of the drivers side door.

"I didn't even see you! Are you alright?" I cried. My expression still held elements of my despair. Mixed with the remorse I now felt, my face was likely contorted beyond recognition. As if to add to my shameful appearance, locks of brown hair stuck to the perspiration on my neck in clumps. Barefoot, I had left my shoes on the driver's side floor.

The woman took a tentative step toward my car as if she was afraid I'd return to the wheel to finish her. She became visible under the street light. Her heels and pencil skirt alluded to an immaculate appearance, though they appeared a little ruffled tonight. As she raised her face in the light, my concern was replaced by consternation. The woman I had nearly run over was Ava Price. For the most part, she looked much as I remembered her - beautiful, frustrated, and disturbingly like an older me. Both my arms dropped defeated to my sides. Impossibly, this night had gotten worse.

"I survived." Her mouth turned down in disapproval. "I hope you don't always drive like that, Harper." I had forgotten how polished her English accent sounded. It had been nearly a year since I had heard it. As my shock faded, no reminiscent pleasure at seeing my biological mother came in its place. Whatever her reasons for coming, I seriously considered asking her to leave.

Ava shifted her hand on her suitcase. "Some inconsistencies in your statement from last year need to be resolved. We should talk."

Though she looked serious, I doubted she had flown from England to resolve some misunderstandings that could have been resolved over the phone. Mute, I turned to walk through the rain to my building. She caught the door behind me just before it latched. Her footfall plodded behind me up the stairs. My silence continued as I shuffled to my door, hearing her follow me into my apartment. As I entered, Ava spoke from behind me.

"Harper, is this a bad time?" she started.

I replied with a clipped, "Yes, Ava, this is a very bad time."

My mind was reeling from the earlier events of the evening. I dropped my purse on the hall table, imagining I felt the imperceptible weight of the small ring box. Now that we were in the light of my apartment, I caught my reflection in my hall mirror. My blotchy, hollow face exceeded my expectations. She couldn't doubt that she had come at a bad time.

I flipped on the lights in my kitchen, still watching her lean against the exposed brick in the entryway in my peripheral vision. In the darkest corners of my mind, I did wonder what had brought Ava Price all this way. Part of me had never expected the peace I had enjoyed to last as long as it had. A year seemed too generous for my family's indiscretions to be kept at bay.

Ava had changed little in her looks and mannerisms. Arms crossed, her posture demanded my attention. True to character, she wouldn't care what had precluded my upset but only considered her calamity as the worst and most pressing matter in the world.

Unwilling to yield, I put the kettle on. A hot drink would offer some reprieve from the cold that had settled into my core. I peeled damp hair from my face and neck, in no rush to hear her reasons for being here. She shifted, considering coming further into my home. I could see her from the galley kitchen anywhere she went in the small apartment outside of my bedroom.

Ava took a few steps into the room, unabashedly taking in my unit with trained observance. The unit had an urban eclectic decor that I'd designed when I moved here five years ago. Various deep, bold colors emerged at any vantage point in the open unit, yet their subtly was sufficient to make Maria, my adoptive mother, complain that the place was too plain and Arthur, Maria's stepfather, argue that there was too much color.

"Don't judge me too quickly," Ava instructed as she came closer. I dropped a tea bag into a mug as she spoke, pretending not to listen. Her voice held strained patience as she continued. "I told you last year we could no longer be in contact." She loosened her brown hair from the tight ponytail at the nape of her neck. Even with her hair down, she looked so tense, so calculating.

I rose a brow, grateful she was at least recognizing this fact. I started to pour the water into the mug, waiting. Knowing Ava, no further encouragement would be required for her to continue. Ava watched me for a moment, as if seeing me for the first time. I felt her eyes travel from my bare feet up to the broad neckline of my black evening gown. Her gaze held on my stoic expression. She shook her head, collecting her thoughts from where they had drifted.

Ava cleared her throat and leaned a hand against the kitchen's door frame. An inch taller than me, I never felt the height difference except when she was close. Her voice was serious and deep, "It's Kael."

I don't know what I had expected to have brought her here, but I hadn't expected that. I flinched. A drop of hot water splashed outside the mug and onto my thumb. Holding my burned finger to my mouth, I slammed the kettle back onto the counter. My heart raced in response to her words not the injury, but I wished my reaction hadn't been so transparent.

"What about him?" I asked, working hard to keep my voice even. Something in Ava's look worried me. Though I tried to hide my curiosity, she knew that she had succeeded in catching my attention.

Instead of answering, Ava moved to take the mug from me. She dunked the tea bag a few times before tossing it onto the tiled counter beside my kettle. Large brown eyes so similar to my own watched me. At this proximity, I could hear the rhythmic beating of her thumb against the rim of the mug as she considered her response.

With flat affect, she shrugged and said, "Gone."  

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Hey guys! I'm sorry this is a half chapter, but at least we are getting started. XD  Did you enjoy the first installment of the sequel to My Father's House? Where has Kael gone and what does Ava want from Harper? Good or bad, I love to hear from you Wattpadders! 

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