**Between the Wings of Twilight Lies the Memory of You**
by Liren Ava Roen
**Chapter 167**
As I stood behind Horace, a wave of dread washed over me. I couldn’t see his face, but the terror etched on Antonia and her friend’s expressions was unmistakable. Their wide eyes and pale faces revealed a genuine fear that sent a chill down my spine.
A knot of unease twisted in my stomach, and it jolted me out of my state of shock. I instinctively reached out, gripping Horace’s arm with urgency. “Horace,” I called, my voice trembling slightly.
In an instant, he released Antonia, the tension between them palpable. “Get out,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The round-faced woman didn’t hesitate; she scrambled away, her feet barely touching the ground as she fled. Antonia, visibly shaking, avoided my gaze, yet shot a venomous glare in my direction over her shoulder, her expression seething with disdain.
“Zephyra, Dad’s birthday is this Saturday,” she blurted out, her voice shaky but urgent. “He said he wants you to come home and cook for the party!” With that, she too was gone, disappearing into the night.
I turned to Horace, who seemed to exude a dangerous energy, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor I was accustomed to.
“Horace, are you alright?” I asked, concern lacing my voice.
He pivoted to face me, the gentleness that usually characterized him returning as if it had never left. “Sorry, did I scare you?” he inquired, a hint of sincerity in his eyes.
To be completely honest, I was a little frightened. Not because Horace had erupted into sudden violence, but because this version of him echoed the Horace of my past life—a man once consumed by a dark, relentless rage aimed at Steven. That was a time marked by relentless pain and suffering. Yet, the Horace in this life hadn’t faced such turmoil. This wasn’t the man I had come to know.
I frowned, gently tugging him back toward our table, my heart heavy with confusion. “I thought you didn’t hit women,” I reminded him, a note of disappointment creeping into my tone.
Horace took the beer bottle from my hand, his voice steady and calm. “Anyone who bullies you doesn’t count,” he replied, each word carrying a weight that made my heart skip a beat.
I sank back into my seat, my mind swirling with troubling thoughts.
“About what Antonia said,” Horace began, breaking the silence that hung between us. “Your father wants you to be the chef for his birthday party, catering to all those guests? Don’t be foolish. Find an excuse and get out of it.”
I lowered my head, taking a sip of water to gather my thoughts. “I have to go to my dad’s party, but I won’t be cooking for anyone. Don’t worry, I’m not that naïve,” I assured him, a hint of determination in my voice.
I had a special gift planned for the three of them at that party, something I couldn’t miss. Besides, with Steven adamantly refusing to grant me a divorce, I needed to find a way to secure some money.

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