But even more so, Isabella boggles my mind. Something happened. Something has shifted between us, and I know that her feelings are changing.
Mine haven’t. I adore her, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her. Whether she’ll let me or not remains to be seen, but I do think that she might be willing to give us a chance at the very least.
We had another round of lovemaking after we admit to each other that we're dazzled by one another, and now, she's sleeping. I wish I could sleep with her too, but I can't, and each time I shift, she stirs slightly.
Leaving her to rest, I ease off the bed. I'm about to lie down and sleep on the floor beside the bed when my chip chirps. I go to ignore it, as I've been all along. Father has stopped trying to contact me for some time now. I thought he gave up on me. Then again, what if I've been wrong all this time and it's been my mom or sister who is trying to get ahold of me?
I can’t deny that the thought of calling Mom or Sarah has come to me many times. As much as I love Isabella and my newfound freedom away from my father’s watchful gaze and overbearing ways, I do miss Mom and Sarah. My father? Not so much.
On the slight chance it’s not my father, I finally answer.
“Hello?”
“Strol.”
I wince. Stupid emotions.
“Father,” I say evenly, leaving the area so that Isabella can sleep undisturbed.
“How could you?” Father shouts.
I wince. “You do not need to shout. I can hear you perfectly fine.”
“Well, that’s good to know. You pulled a nasty little stunt, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t pretend to be ignorant with me,” Father snaps. “You flew that plane, didn’t you?”
I grit my teeth. The Earthling authorities notified my father about the plane they sighted, the one they hailed to land, the order I didn’t bother to obey. I’m still standing in the plane, and I can’t help smirking.
“What’s wrong, Father? You don’t like that I’m doing whatever I want here? Didn’t Sarah tell you that sending me here wouldn’t be a punishment?”
“You will turn yourself over—”
"To what? Earthling authorities? Now, why would I do that?"
“I can give them your exact coordinates,” Father says, sounding smug.
“Because of this chip? This chip that I want to rip out?”
There’s a slight pause.
“If you think I won’t,” I continue.
But he cuts me off. “If you do that, you won’t be able to talk to your mom and sister.”
“I think I know that.”
“And you also will not ever be allowed to step foot on Kuria every again.”
“You banished me,” I say coolly. “You sent me away because you couldn’t handle me, and you thought that Earthlings would be able to? That I would listen to them? No, Father. Or should I even bother to call you that? No, Overlord Nestrol. You discarded me, so I feel no sense of loyalty—”
“You have no loyal blood in your body. You’re a disgrace to Kurians everywhere. You think your actions have no consequences.”
“You hate the Kurians,” I spit out. “As much as you don’t want the Novans to die out, you also hate that we aren’t Novans. Admit that, Father. It’s why you allow the Kurians to not be forced to have a career. You pretend that you’re granting us independence, but it’s more that you want to set the Kurians up for failure. There’s enough room for the Kurians to live on Earth. We don’t have to stay on Kuria. After all, there are so many more women—”
“Ah, is that what this is about? How many women have you fucked there? More than your fair share, I assume.”
“You know what happens when you assume,” I spit out.
“Do not call me an ass.”
“I’ll have you know that I haven’t fucked as many women as you would think,” I say hotly.
“So does that mean a dozen? Half that? Three? Two?” Father hesitates. “One?”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? You want to dictate what I can and can’t do. You want me to be a puppet, to jump at your say so. There aren’t any strings on me, Father. I’m not going to just do whatever you want. I have my own mind, my own body, and I will do as I see fit.”
“You are welcome to, but know that if you continue to disobey me—”
“I’m here, aren’t I? Away from my friends and family.”
“Yes, but you were to go to the authorities—”
“So that I could what, Father? Be put to work? So you can keep tabs on me despite my being on another planet?” I bitterly shake my head even though he can’t see me. “I don’t need you to check in on me. I’m alive. I’m on Earth. Isn’t that enough for you?”
“No,” Father snaps. “That’s not enough for me.”
“Why not? You want me to hate living here? You want me to be annoyed, upset? I… You need to admit something.”
“What’s that?” he spits out.
“That nothing I could ever do would be good enough for you.”
“You act as if you have been wronged.”
"That's you, though, isn't it? You've been wronged because you have a son with a mind. You have a son who won't do what he's told because he wants to do this or that or something else altogether. You think that just because I don't have you as the center of my world that I'm a failure, a disgrace."
“You’re putting a lot of words into my mouth,” he says slowly.
“Can you deny them?”
He says nothing, and I disconnect the call.
Beyond furious with my father, hating that I let him get to me, frustrated that I purposely pushed him to be even more hateful, I reach toward my ear.
