Sparks

Chapter 24: "fate is a strong word."

I propped my chin on my palm, "fate is something God already sets and can't be changed. For example, the country you were born in and your family. And destiny is-"

"A course of events that an individual can shape. For example, your carrier choices and your significant other," Dion said, making a point. Then, how did I screw up? I should ask Kinsley about this.

I sighed, "What if I accidentally told her the truth? unintentionally."

"Then that's your problem, make up an excuse or tell her the truth and hope she won't freak out," Dion answered, "I know. It's hard to keep it to yourself, but sometimes we don't always tell the truth. Emilia doesn't know why I saved her, and it's killing me."

Dion puts his hand on my back, "the truth becomes more nuanced, and there are times when a little white lie or the absence of some critical facts might be appropriate. Some truth has an impact, so I suggest you be wise."

The conversation died down a bit until I heard a commotion downstairs. The people in the backyard also turned their attention inside the house, "should we check it out?" I asked Dion.

"No worries, it must be my weird uncle being drunk," Dion said.

"I had enough of this house!" I heard a voice echo in my head.

"I don't think it's your uncle. I think it had something to do with Joy," I said to Dion as I finished my wine.

"How can you be sure?"

"I can hear her thoughts."

"Oh right, I forgot I can do that too," Dion said.

Then the balcony door swung open, revealing Joy with her hair down tousled. I wonder what happened. Did she get into a fight with someone? I didn't think he got fed up so quickly. She grabbed me and led me downstairs, "Is everything okay?"

We stopped halfway down the stairs, and she spoke, "no. I'm taking you somewhere," when I arrived downstairs, I saw Martin and her father in the foyer. Joy took off her coat and threw it to Martin's face. Then pushed Martin out of the way and opened the door. She led me to her car, and we drove off.

I saw from the speedometer she was going a bit more than a hundred, and that worries me. She never went more than eighty every time she drove. I took her arm to comfort her, and it must have worked because the car started to slow down. The lights turn red, and she stops the car. She puts her head on the steering wheels, "what happened?" I asked her.

I saw a couple of tears fall to the steering wheel, "I argued with my father, and Martin had to jump in and talk shit about me."

"What did he say?" I asked her again as I grew irritated. The way I could feel her anger flows, I found my fist clenched without my knowledge.

Joy shook her head and took a deep breath before leaning back in the seat. When the lights turned green, the car moved again, and we went to another road that led to the woods, "it doesn't matter what he said. It's not like I can make him take back what he said."

"You still didn't tell your father about the abuse?"

She shook her head, "I don't think he would care if Martin keeps hurting me. He was too busy with his fantasy of keeping the business alive."

"Have you tried to tell him?"

Joy bit her lips and shook her head, "no point in trying. I can already guess the outcome."

"No, we don't know what's the outcome will be until we try. You don't know how he's going to react, Joy."

Joy sighed and propped her head on her arm with her elbow on the window, "I don't really plan on being here that long," she said in fatigue. I can tell that she's worn.

I didn't want to stop her from doing what she wanted. I don't want to be like her father or fiancee, always stopping her from doing what she wants, so I asked her, "how do you want your family and friend to remember you?"

Joy breathed deeply before breaking down, "as someone who tried hard to be someone I couldn't."

I bite the inside of my cheeks as I thought I'd never imagined myself going through what she had gone and she's still here, alive and strong. I saw her finger starts to tremble, to mean that she was cold or because she was crying. Whatever it was, I still took off my coat and put it around her body, "can I drive?"

Joy wiped her tears and turned her attention to me, "what?"

"Let me drive. I can't let an unstable person drive the car," I said with a joke. Hoping that she would laugh, and she did.

"How much wine did you drink?"

"Three glass, but I'm sober now," I said and shrugging. Joy shook her head and stopped the car. No one was on the road except us, so she stopped in the middle of the road.

"Okay, I don't want to see any dent when we got there," Joy said, and she turned on the GPS, switching seats with me.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I swiped the screen to check the destination. It's on a mountain, are we going to her old house?

"My mother's house," Joy answered, and I thought it would be respectful not to ask her a question, "thanks, for the coat."

"No problem. I can wake you up when we arrive there. It's an hour's drive," I said as I read the GPS calculation.

"Can I hold your hand?" Joy asked me, and I chuckled.

"You don't need to ask, princess," I said as I took her hand, and she smiled. Then I drove according to wherever the GPS took us to. I saw from the corner of my eyes that Joy was sleeping peacefully with my coat on top of her. I didn't care when my hand started to die, but Joy wanted it; I didn't mind.

We finally arrived at the destination, and I stopped behind a gate. I woke up Joy, and she spoke to someone on the intercom, and the gate opened. I drove for a couple of minutes until we arrived at the luxury cabin. It's the same cabin I saw in my dream. I parked the car, and we got out of the vehicle. Joy spoke with the security for a moment before walking back to me.

We entered the house, and it was the same as I remembered: the fireplace, the living room, and the beautiful scenery from the expansive balcony. I bring my finger to the table, and not a single dust on the table- or even anywhere. How is it clean when somebody doesn't live here anymore? I looked around the house as I saw Joy walking toward the balcony. She put both hands on the railing and hung her head down. I slowly approached her and stood next to her, "what lovely house, Joy."

"You did not just say it's lovely," Joy said as she hid her laugh.

"I think your party made me talk like rich people would," I jokingly.

Joy sucked air through her teeth before speaking, "this is where I lived before."

"Is someone staying here because it's squeaky clean."

"My father hires some maid to clean the house once in two weeks. He didn't want the place to be haunted or look like it was unoccupied, so no one would try to buy this house."

I nod in understanding. Even though I already know the story behind this but I still ask, "If I may ask, why did you move? This house has everything."

Joy shook her head, "It doesn't have everything."

***