{CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT}

                                  ~~~~~~~~

Jackson's heart stung from Hanna's words yesterday: "I'm grateful you're different and won't betray me like he did." That word hit him hard, making sleep elusive as he dwelled on her words. He understood he shouldn't let them affect him, that they should hold no weight—but they did; painfully so.

He rubbed his chest as he passed from his room to the parlor, accidentally bumping into a small stool beside his couch. "Mmm," he groaned, unsure which hurt more: Hanna's words from last night or the pain from the stool. "Ahh, it hurts so much," he winced from the impact with the stool, unaware of a teardrop escaping his eye. The pain seemed more intense than the days he missed his parents. "Fucking stool!" He exclaimed, veins pulsing on his forehead and neck as he tried to convince himself the pain wasn't as severe as it felt.

He strolled to the kitchen to fix himself some bread and butter for breakfast. While opening the bread bag and attempting to place it in the toaster, his reflection on the iron surface caught his eye. "Why am I tearing up?" He mused, using the top of his white polo shirt to dab away the tears, highlighting his well-defined muscles even more. "Come on man, it was just a stool," he murmured, but as the words left his lips, a sharper pang gripped his heart, surpassing even the ache from the night before.

It suddenly hit him that Hanna's words had a tight grip on him. He recognized that he was deceiving her just like Henry had, and he acknowledged it. "This is about seeking retribution and correcting the injustices against my family. Henry was driven by greed, but I am not. I'm solely seeking to settle the score for what they did to me," he reassured himself once again.

He scooped up some butter and slathered it onto the freshly toasted bread, savoring a mouthful. After a few more bites, he pivoted towards the fridge, aiming to pair his snack with a drink. Yet, upon opening it, he found emptiness—quite the barren sight for a young man, one could jest. He scoured every inch of the fridge, and to his relief, unearthed a carton of milk from the bygone month, a long-overdue disposal task he had yet to tackle.

"This will do," he muttered, opening the seal on the milk and downing it in one swift motion. "Ugh, tastes terrible," he grimaced, sticking out his tongue in distaste at the weird flavor of the milk.

The jingle of his phone jolted him back to reality as he ambled towards the couch where his phone rested. He grabbed it—to his surprise, it was Victor on the line; a twist indeed, as he had half-anticipated Hanna's call, perhaps reaching out for the sixth time to express gratitude for his role in saving her life yesterday.

His heart hurt, making sleep impossible, and Hanna's constant late-night calls didn't help either. She said it was to thank him, but that was only part of the story. Though he knew, she called not just to thank him but because she missed her soon-to-be husband.

He grabbed the phone, holding it to his right ear, all the while chomping on the nearly burnt toast.

"Jackson, you good?" Victor asked.

"Yeah, I am man, why do you ask?"

"What do you mean? You went to save Hanna last night after the dinner with her family," Victor said, trying to jog Jackson's memory.

"Yeah, I know about that, and I am good; thankfully. But I mean, how did you know about that, I don't quite recall letting you in on it."

Jackson was puzzled; he distinctly remembered only confiding in his uncle about yesterday's events, sharing every detail. He couldn't fathom how Victor found out, just like how he knew when Hanna's brother, Phil, was taken by some man.

"Ha-ha, Hanna told me," Victor stuttered after a moment of silence, trying to come up with a response.

"Hanna?... you've got her contact?"

"Oh, yes. Don't you recall? She gave it to me yesterday, you were there, and I thought you knew. I, um, called her because you weren't picking up, and I was so worried. It dawned on me that you'd probably be with her, and then she told me everything."

Jackson remained deeply skeptical of Victor's explanation, as he was certain Hanna's phone had died following the events of yesterday. "She must have managed to charge it," he pondered, still unsure of the situation.

Soon, his worries shifted from that to the realization that Victor had Hanna's contact. First, he couldn't quite remember Hanna giving him her contact. Second, even if she had, he found himself unexpectedly jealous of Victor having her contact, which was very unusual for him. He had never been interested in a girl, let alone dating one, to feel jealous about things like this. The fact that Hanna was just a friend to him made him ponder. "It's nothing serious," he reassured himself.

"Did you notice the way the nanny stared at me before breaking the glass of water on her hands? She was so creepy," Victor said, shifting the conversation to the nanny incident.

"You?" Jackson was caught off guard, believing he was the sole target of the nanny's intense gaze before the glass incident. As it turned out, she likely bestowed her unsettling stare upon everyone before her dramatic glass-breaking act unfolded.

"Yeah, me. I was so surprised, it was like her eyes pierced through my soul. She was so creepy man," Victor replied.

"Luckily, it didn't actually pierce them; otherwise, that would've been quite the problem." They both shared a laugh at Jackson's witty humor.

"Alright, man. I've got to go now, glad you're doing okay."

"Alright bud, thanks for checking in. We'll talk soon."

Just as Jackson was about to end the call, Victor's voice rushed in, "One more thing, Jackson. Are you still focused on the plan? Remember, you need to arrange this wedding and marriage thing quickly."

"Yeah, yeah. I know," Jackson rolled his eyes in response to Victor's words, almost playfully. "I also want to get this done as quickly as possible," he said, taking a final bite of his toast bread.

"Well then, I suppose I should wish you a happy married life," they both shared another hearty chuckle at Victor's sneaky jokes before finally ending the call.

In trying to get up after the call with Victor, Jackson leaned on the couch for support but slipped on something. Upon inspecting the couch, he found a piece of paper wedged in the back, between the cushions.

Taking the piece of paper in hand, he chuckled lightly at its contents. It was the note Hanna had left for him the night she stayed over at his place during the heavy downpour.

The piece of paper triggered a memory of that night with Hanna. It was as if those moments with her felt sincere. He traced the written words on the paper, slowly and carefully, with a smile on his face. The thought of her tickled his heart.

He reached for his phone and punched in her number, wanting to see how she was holding up. The events from yesterday gave him a reason, a pretty good one, to reach out to her— or so he believed. Even though they had already spent a good four hours chatting late into the night.

He gazed at his phone, her contact info popping up on the screen after he dialed. Within moments of calling, she chimed in with a warm, "Hi, Jackson." Just as he readied his response, his uncle's call came in, dominating the screen. Confusion clouded his mind as he pondered whether to stick with the conversation with Hanna or abruptly end it to answer his uncle's call.

He gazed at his phone, caught in a moment of decision. Hanna's voice persisted in the call, softly saying, "Hi, Jackson, are you there? Can you hear me?... Hey." Simultaneously, his phone retained his uncle's call information as his call rang through.

"Jackson, can you hear...." Before Hanna's words could fully form, he swiftly ended the call, promptly switching to answer his uncle's incoming call.

That was the choice he had already made and vowed to uphold — opting for his uncle, a decision he was determined to stick by.

As he picked up his uncle's call, his voice boomed, "What took you so long to pick up, boy?" his uncle inquired.

"Uh, I was in the bathroom," Jackson fabricated a simple lie.

"Alright. You should already know why I called, right?"

As he said that, Jackson's face contorted into an uneasy expression; he knew the reason for the call. It was the sole purpose his uncle ever reached out—the plan involving Hanna.

He let out a slight sigh in response to his uncle's inquiry, signifying his understanding of the purpose behind the call.

"After hearing about how you rescued the girl following the dinner with her family, it seems you've left a lasting impression on both her and her family. It's time to capitalize on this and make a move," his uncle couldn't finish his sentence as his cough drowned out the rest of the conversation.

"You good, Uncle?" Jackson inquired, feigning ignorance, though he was well aware of the cause of his uncle's cough—his cigarette; most likely, he was smoking during the call.

The noise of his uncle taking a swig of something to soothe his cough filled the phone, as he responded, "Ah, I'm good, just a little tickle," he mentioned, making a sound as if wiping away the liquid from his lips. 

"Like I was saying," his uncle pressed on, "It's time to execute the plan. It's time to make her your wife."