It Should Have Been Like This (The Revised Version)

Chapter 54: his sisters

As I stood before them once more, I was struck by the complete absence of the anger I had anticipated. Instead, a profound sense of delight filled my heart as I gazed upon the mature female version of my husband and our children.

Her winter gray eyes expanded like those of a curious cat, and her mischievous smirk melted into a genuine, warm smile. Rylee spread her arms wide, her brows wiggling playfully, and I couldn't help but laugh as I ran into her welcoming embrace. She was still as tall as I remembered, her stature commanding and imposing.

Rylee shared the same striking facial features as her brother, but there was an undeniable air of badassery about her. It was evident in the way she dressed, spoke, and carried herself — her very aura exuding a sense of unapologetic confidence. From the moment I had first met her, her hair had been messily dyed to resemble the hue of freshly spilled blood or a pint of vibrant red paint splattered across her head.

Rylee's appearance was a striking display of her rebellious nature. Pierced brows, nose, ears, and even her lower lip adorned her face, while her hands were adorned with spiky, gold, and beaded bracelets, six out of her ten fingers ringed. Her piercings extended to her nipples and belly button as well, further emphasizing her bold and unconventional style.

I drew her into a tight embrace, breathing in the rich scent of black cherry and black rose that clung to her, a divine fragrance that suited her appearance perfectly. Pulling back, I felt tears of joy rolling down my cheeks, a gracious smile gracing my lips. I couldn't help but chuckle when I took a closer look at her face, noting the dark, spooky makeup that made her resemble a gorgeous, haunting version of Dracula's daughter or a corpse bride.

Her attire, as always, was a testament to her edgy and unapologetic persona — ripped leather, chains, ribs, biker gloves, and heavy boots. She was too old to keep this style but I already knew what her answer would be.

Rylee spoke, her deep, terrifying voice sending a slight shiver down my spine. Many people would instantly back away upon hearing her speak, yet I knew of someone who found her voice utterly captivating — to the point of experiencing a visceral response.

"I'm glad you don't hate my guts," she said, a hint of relief evident in her tone.

"I thought I did, but I guess I don't," I replied, my own surprise reflecting in my words.

"Do I get a hug too?" Tyra asked as she poked me playfully in the arm. I laughed and pulled away from Rylee to embrace Tyra as well.

Tyra was Rominic and Rylee's maternal cousin, but she had grown up alongside Rominic after the tragic passing of her own mother when she was young. Her father's demanding job had also made it difficult for him to provide the proper care as a single parent. As a result, Tyra had always looked up to Rylee, idolizing her in a way that mirrored the unwavering loyalty of their close-knit family.

Tyra was one of the few people, aside from Phineas and their mother, who did not seem to be intimidated by Rylee's imposing and often frightening presence. She threw herself dramatically into my arms, causing us to stagger back for a moment before I managed to regain my balance and keep us upright — a surprising feat, as we typically ended up on the ground with Tyra on top.

"My darling!" Tyra shrieked, peppering my neck with excited kisses. "I've missed you so much!" she exclaimed, her grip on my arms tightening. "I can't believe you're alive! I thought…" She paused, a pout forming on her lips. "Oh my, I'm so sorry for what that fool did to you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him in time. We didn't know," she lamented, her expression a mix of concern and guilt.

I furrowed my brows in confusion. "You didn't know he was fucking Peyton?" I asked, seeking clarification.

Tyra shook her head frantically, her expression one of disbelief. My eyes widened, and I turned to Rylee with a look of surprise. Rylee sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, a gesture that suggested frustration or exasperation.