Bulletproof my Heart

32. Guess he didn't want me.

Introducing a new character. Tell me how you find her...

Chapter 32. Guess he didn't want me.

Aisha

"I am Lena Simmons."

I rack my brain for any similarity or connection with the name but come up empty. I have never heard of her. "What brings you to me?"

Her shoulders stiffen and she lifts her chin, eyes blazing with untamed determination. "We need to talk. I am your half-sister."

I blink, wondering if this is all a silly prank and if she'll start laughing anytime soon. But her eyes are fixed on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch in my throat.

Half-sister? This is a plot twist I never signed up for.

The café feels smaller and even Greg looks confounded, torn between asking the girl to walk away or actually believing her. A flurry of emotions swirls within me —confusion, disbelief, and a strange sense of curiosity.

"Explain." I manage to mumble. Her eyes dart to Greg and she frowns a little. "Can he be trusted?"

I raise an eyebrow. "I know him, I don't know you. Either you say whatever you want in front of him, right now or walk away."

Lena's lips press into a thin line as she contemplates her choices. After a short pause, she gives a sharp nod and pulls up a chair, joining us on the table. Greg is high alert, following her every move. He glances at me and I give him a discrete nod to tell him it's okay.

She rubs her sweaty palms on her jeans and I sigh, still reeling from her confession. "So... what makes you think you are my half-sister?"

"We have the same father." Her words are low yet clear as they slice through my mind and heart.

I feel my heart skip a beat, then race ahead in a panicked sprint. I force myself to swallow the lump forming in my throat. "I... I'm sorry?"

Her shoulders stiffen but she meets my gaze, steadfast and determined, and I feel a chill run down my spine. "I've spent years searching for answers," she continues, her voice calm unlike the turmoil spinning within me. "I am here now that I know who you really are."

I shake my head, trying to make sense of this, struggling to find my voice and arrange my thoughts.

How could this be possible? How can I have a sister I've never known about? Does my father know? Did he – God no!

"Yes, he knows." Her voice only makes my heart sink further. I lean back on the chair. "How?" A million questions float in my head but I am unable to form coherent sentences from those.

Lena shrugs a shoulder. "Guess he didn't want me. My mom – she was just a grade school teacher and he was a politician when they met. they dated for a few months, maybe a year, I think. He didn't want a scandal so when my mom told him she was pregnant, he skipped town, ghosted her, told her to never contact her again."

A part of me wants to say she's lying but I know my father. Nothing comes between him and his political career, certainly not his daughter.

Lena continues, twisting her fingers. "My mom initially said no but then he offered her a lumpsum of money to keep quiet, she needed, she had a baby to raise all alone and the money would fund my college. She took it... because she was thinking about me. She wanted me to have a good future." Her voice drops lower, as if she's swallowing back tears and emotions. "I didn't know about any of this until my mom told me last year, she was really sick and decided to confess before she left."

My lips part in horror. "She – she's gone?"

"Yes."

"I am sorry."

"Health issues." Lena sniffs. "Maybe she could've survived if she had someone to lean on, someone to get her the proper treatments but the one man she liked – was an asshole."

The air hangs heavy and another dreadful thought creeps into my mind. "How old are you?"

Lena pauses before replying. "17."

I do the mental calculation. I am 22 years old, she is 17. My mom died when I was 6, which means my father was cheating on my mom with Lena's mom. I scoff, rubbing my forehead with frustration and disbelief. "Unbelievable! I can't believe he'd do that."

Lena gives me an odd look, full of disgust and hate. "At least you had a father growing up. All I had was drunken men knocking at the door and a few pretending to care about me so they could sleep with my mother."

That quickly shuts me up. I press my lips together, looking at her in pity. "I am sorry. My dad loved mom, I never thought he could do this, ever. It's hard to believe. I wish I knew about this sooner."

She holds my gaze. "Would it have made a difference?" The intensity makes me gulp.

"I like to think so. I don't have any siblings so maybe having a little sister would have been nice." I reply, hoping I sound honest but truthfully I am not sure. I keep thinking of my mom, the victim in all this. Did she know her husband was cheating on her? all the nights they spent fighting – was it about this? why didn't he tell me? did he ever feel guilty about it? did he try to reach out to his daughter?

Greg glances at his Apple watch. "We should leave."

I stand and collect my purse. "I have to go now but I'll give you my number. I think we should talk more about this. Maybe get to know each other."

Lena nods, passing me her phone. I notice the scratches but old model but don't comment on it. Would she have the latest model if my father had accepted her as his child? I scowl at the thought of my father accepting his infidelity. Hell would sooner freeze.

As I give her back the mobile, Lena looks at Greg, scanning him from head to toe with open curiosity. "Where's the hot one?"

"Away," I reply before thinking, then freeze, narrowing my eyes at her. "How – how did you know I had another bodyguard?"

I look at the sudden panic in her eyes but she quickly covers it up with a smile. "This isn't the first time I thought of approaching you and talking about this. but I didn't know what to say. I just bailed out at the last minute until I finally coughed up the courage today."

I glance around the café, curiosity piqued. "Why today?"

Lena blinks, biting her lower lip hard before replying. "It's my birthday. And the only family I had is dead."

And just like that, I feel guilty for something that was never my fault.

Sometimes our parent's scars run so deep that even the children are forced to inherit the pain.

~~~

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