Chapter 2 The Tunnel

As I walked down the stairs, I could see the pity in everyone's eyes as they stared at me. Who was he? I asked myself. Everyone looked at me as though I had lost someone so important, someone irreplaceable. But I felt nothing.

I once loved my father, I mean, I loved him until the neighbour's kid became his new priority. I won't deny that he taught me most of what I know, though always in the most aggressive manner. He taught me never to show emotions, and I was a quick learner. What I never understood was why he chose someone else. Being his biological daughter, I assumed I would be his main priority. But I was wrong.

You left a gaping hole in my heart. You are the reason I hate men, especially men like you. And no matter what, I will never forgive you, dear Father.

And here I am, stuck in this life of pretence.

As I approached the altar, I realized I still held the piece written by my nameless acquaintance. I had planned to mumble a few words, but that might not end well, Mother would have my neck for it. So, I decided to stick to the piece, hoping it was as good as he claimed.

I took a deep breath and began reading.

"I have never read anything this hilarious," I said, smiling despite myself. The words on the page were so different from anything I would have written about my father. They felt warm, affectionate, full of admiration. It made me wonder, what kind of relationship did he and my father share? Certainly not the one I had.

"It was a great honor to have learned from you, my mentor from"

I stopped.

The piece was unfinished. My eyes widened in disbelief. I should have known better than to trust him. What was I supposed to do now? Everyone was waiting for me to finish the sentence. The silence stretched uncomfortably, the weight of dozens of expectant gazes pressing down on me. What was he thinking, leaving this incomplete?

As a writer, I could not and would not finish someone else's work. If this was his idea of a cruel joke to leave me stranded in the middle of my father's eulogy he had failed. Because if there's one thing Melody is good at, it's causing a scene.

I clutched the paper tightly, drawing in a shaky breath, and burst into tears. One eye opened just a sliver to gauge the audience's reaction. As expected, they fell for it. Why wouldn't they? I was a grieving daughter mourning her late father. The only person unmoved was Mother. She knew me too well.

Her furious glare burned into me, a silent warning. I'm sorry, Mother, I thought as I turned and bolted out of the hall, my fake sobs echoing behind me.

Mother was going to kill me. I was tasked with writing a heartfelt piece, but instead, I had let myself be led astray by some nameless trickster. Hiding for an hour or more seemed like the best option. If Mother found me now, I wouldn't hear the end of it.

I ran to the back of the house, where an old tunnel lay hidden in the shadows. Father had always forbidden me from going inside, insisting it was no place for a girl. Once, when he caught me trying to sneak in, he had grabbed me by the neck like an animal, pinning me to the wall.

His voice was a low growl behind me. "I thought your mother told you not to set foot here, you brat. But don't worry, I won't tell a soul."

I had shivered as his grip moved from my neck to my lower back.

"You're still a child, yet you have the body of a grown woman. Isn't that... beautiful?" he whispered as he pulled down the zipper of my dress.

I didn't understand what was happening, but I knew I didn't like it. His hands were like iron cuffs, holding me in place. His breath was hot against my skin. I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. Desperate, I recalled Mother's words: The only way to make a man weak in his knees is to yank the organ between his legs.

So, I did.

The first and last time I ever touched a man like that, and it was my father.

Now that he was dead, I was finally free to enter the tunnel. Nanny Chopper once told me there was nothing scary down here. I just needed to stay hidden for a while, then I'd leave.

The air inside was damp, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the cavernous space. As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I gasped. This wasn't just a tunnel, it was a secret hideout. The walls were adorned with delicate carvings, candles still sat in their holders, melted wax pooling at their bases. It looked like a place for lovers.

Did Mother create this? I wondered. She must have truly loved Father.

A voice broke through my thoughts. "We meet again... I didn't think we'd cross paths so soon."

I turned sharply.

It was him, the nameless acquaintance. He leaned against the stone wall, watching me with quiet amusement.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "You should be out there addressing your guests."

I crossed my arms. "Firstly, they are not my guests; they're my father's guests. And secondly, you have no right to question me. Why don't you leave, just like you left me hanging with that brilliant piece of yours?"

He smirked. "Ah. So, you noticed."

I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes. "You didn't write that eulogy, did you?"

He tilted his head. "What makes you think that?"

"It was too good," I admitted. "Too real. There was a deep connection in those words, something I never shared with my father. And then you left it unfinished. Why?"

He took a step toward me. "Is that all you wish to know?"

Something about his voice sent chills down my spine. He reached for my hand, his touch featherlight. My breath hitched.

What was this feeling?

His hands were gentle, soft, unlike my father's. My heart pounded against my ribs. When Father touched me, I wanted to run, to scream. But when this man placed his hand on my waist, all I wanted was to dance.

"What was that?" he asked suddenly, his gaze snapping to the shadows.

I blinked, my trance broken. "What?"

"I think someone else is down here."

Panic set in. My moment of foolish distraction had cost me precious time. I needed to come up with an excuse for Mother, an escape plan anything. Instead, I was in a dark tunnel with a man I barely knew.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

He exhaled slowly. "What do you think of my perfume?"

"What?"

"I was hoping you'd recognize it. Whenever I needed you, I wore this scent, and you'd come running into my arms." His voice trembled. "I wrote to you so many times, but you never replied. When we were together, you only spoke fondly of him-your father. What changed? What happened to you while I was gone?"

Tears welled in his eyes. He lifted a trembling hand to my face. "Look into my eyes and tell me you don't remember me."

My lips parted, but no words came out.

I wanted to remember.

"MELODY!"

A shrill voice echoed through the tunnel. Mother.

I turned sharply toward the entrance, my heart hammering in my chest. When I looked back at him, he was already stepping away, retreating into the shadows.

And suddenly, I wasn't sure what scared me more, Mother's wrath or the truth buried in this stranger's eyes.