The Day I Quit Him (Autumn and Mars) novel Chapter 51

**Chasing Light, Finding Peace** – by Rohan Verma

Autumn’s world tilted on its axis in an instant; her expression hardened, transforming into a frigid mask that sent an unsettling chill racing down her spine. In a reflexive motion, she wrapped her arms around her midsection and retreated a step, her body responding to the threat before her mind could fully comprehend the gravity of the situation. She turned her head sharply, narrowly evading a slap that aimed to connect with her cheek.

Yet, the universe has a penchant for irony. Although Oliver’s hand missed its intended mark, it still struck her shoulder with a force that reverberated through her entire being, jolting her senses back to the stark reality of her surroundings. A numbing sensation cascaded down her arm, accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain that made her clench her teeth in an effort to suppress any outward sign of her distress.

“You wretched girl, you dare to dodge?” Oliver’s voice sliced through the air, a venomous hiss that dripped with disdain.

The sheer force of the blow sent her staggering backward, her back colliding with the door. In a moment of instinctive clarity, she managed to brace herself with her hand, averting what could have been a catastrophic tumble.

“Alright, Oliver,” Mrs. Lopez interjected, gliding closer with an air of rehearsed concern that felt almost theatrical. Her face, etched with the lines of time, wore a mask of feigned sympathy and affection for Autumn. She wrapped her arm around Oliver’s, her tone shifting to one that was almost syrupy sweet. “Why do you get so angry the moment you see her?”

“Autumn’s pregnant. Don’t you think you’re putting our son-in-law in a tough spot by acting like this?” Mrs. Lopez’s words hung heavily in the air, laden with implications that seemed to suffocate the room.

Autumn’s gaze flickered upward, sweeping past Oliver’s face—so hauntingly familiar—to land on Mrs. Lopez, whose expression was a curious blend of worry and a glimmer of satisfaction. Finally, her eyes settled on Mars Wright, who stood near Lydia’s hospital bed, his attention entirely absorbed by her, as if Autumn were a mere ghost haunting the periphery of his existence.

A constricting sensation gripped Autumn’s heart, a weight so profound it felt as if it might shatter her resolve. A bitter smile crept onto her lips, a deceptive mask that belied the turmoil roiling within.

A tough spot? Did Mars truly feel ensnared in a difficult situation?

Her father had just raised his hand against her, and yet Mars’s gaze remained fixated on Lydia, completely oblivious to her suffering.

Though her feelings for Mars had long since faded into the background of her life, the tableau before her pierced her heart anew, reminding her of the anguish she thought she had buried deep within. She felt a wave of pity wash over her for the girl she once was, the girl who had clung to the flickering hope that things might somehow change.

A family steeped in toxicity, devoid of love, thriving on manipulation. A man, a scoundrel, entangled with her stepsister, shamelessly flaunting his betrayal.

For years, she had fought to survive in this quagmire of despair, compromising her dignity, swallowing her pride, and desperately yearning for a semblance of acceptance.

Only now did she finally grasp the bitter truth: some people simply do not belong in the category of family, even if their blood runs the same. And those without any blood ties can sometimes feel more like family, united in their shared selfishness.

Autumn pressed her lips together, a surge of determination flooding her being. Perfect. If this family was so tightly knit, she would gladly extricate herself from their tangled web. Let the four of them live out their twisted version of happiness.

“What’s that look on your face?” Oliver’s voice sliced through her thoughts like a knife, reigniting his anger at the sight of her indifferent, almost mocking expression.

The embers of his fury flared back to life. He seized Autumn’s arm with a force that disregarded her condition, dragging her toward the hospital bed with a sense of urgency that felt almost frantic.

“Look at your sister!” he bellowed, forcing her to confront the pale, lifeless visage of Lydia.

“We step out for just a moment, and when we return, your sister is practically dead! What kind of sister are you?!”

Autumn’s surprise was palpable as she gazed at Lydia, who lay with her eyes tightly shut, the very picture of distress.

What kind of drama was Lydia orchestrating this time?

“What happened to her?” Autumn’s voice was laced with genuine concern, but to the ears of the others, it came off as a challenge.

“What happened? Isn’t that the question we should be asking you? What did you do to Lydia? Why did she try to kill herself?”

Suicide? The absurdity of it nearly made Autumn laugh aloud.

Lydia, the very embodiment of selfishness, contemplating such an act? Not a chance.

“Oliver, I understand your concern for Lydia, but this isn’t the way to treat Autumn,” Mrs. Lopez chimed in, her tone shifting as she assumed the role of mediator.

The couple’s dynamic was a well-rehearsed dance of good cop and bad cop, their roles seamlessly intertwined.

“Autumn just arrived. Let’s discuss this calmly. Yelling won’t help anyone; it will only frighten her,” she urged, her words tinged with a false sense of concern.

“Maybe there’s been some kind of misunderstanding?”

Mrs. Lopez’s attempt at diplomacy only served as a spark that ignited the flames of accusation.

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