Chapter 23: Papa's Fairytales
The sun had barely dipped behind the trees, leaving the sitting room awash in amber and violet hues. Shadows stretched softly along the walls. Eva sat cross-legged on the thick velvet carpet, surrounded by a fortress of open books. The letters were easy—she didn't struggle with reading anymore—but today, she couldn't focus. Words blurred into one another, numbers made sense but didn't matter.
Her mind was elsewhere.
Or rather… on someone else.
It had been days since Papa held her the same way. Days since he ruffled her hair or called her his clever little bird. He hadn't said anything unkind. He hadn't yelled or scolded her. But he was different. Distant. Like someone pulled him slightly too far away.
She glanced up from the book. The door creaked open slowly.
"Papa?" Her voice was softer than usual.
Reginald paused in the doorway. His coat was perfectly in place, shoes polished, the scent of his cologne sharp and familiar—but his eyes didn't quite meet hers.
"Yes," he answered. "Is it alright if I come in?"
Eva nodded but didn't smile. She folded her hands in her lap and waited, curious but cautious. He walked in slowly and sat across from her on the floor, like he had when she was smaller and afraid of thunderstorms.
Only now, it was him who looked uncertain.
"You're reading again," he said, eyeing the thick textbooks.
Eva gave a half-shrug. "I got bored."
"Of what?"
"Everything," she said simply. "Nobody tells me anything."
He blinked.
Eva stared at him, expression unreadable. "Why are you mad at me?"
His head jerked slightly. "I'm not mad."
"Well, you're not happy."
He looked at her then. Really looked. There was a long pause before he spoke again. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why do you look like you're always about to leave?"
The question hung between them like smoke. Reginald took a slow breath and sat back, resting his hands on his knees.
"I've just had… a lot to think about," he said finally. "Things about where you came from. Things I didn't understand before."
Eva frowned. "Like what?"
He hesitated, then gave her a strange smile—gentle, but fragile.
"Do you remember when you asked about bloodlines?" he asked.
She nodded. "You said mine was strong."
"It is," he said, then paused. "But it's also… different. Some people believe it's more than just strong. That there's something old inside of you. Something powerful."
Eva blinked. "Like… ancient DNA?"
"Not exactly," he said slowly. "Like… myths. Legends. Descendants of gods."
She stared. Then burst out laughing. "Papa! That's so silly!"
He laughed too—quiet, almost wistful. "I know. It sounds ridiculous. But some people believe it. They think your gifts… your intelligence, your awareness—it's not just from us."
"But I'm your daughter," Eva said, tilting her head. "I look like Mama, though."
"Yes," Reginald said softly. "You do."
She sat back, thinking. "So… is this about me being too smart? Because I can stop. I can pretend. If that makes you feel better."
"No," he said quickly, shaking his head.
"Never stop being who you are. You just… remind people of something bigger than they're ready for."
"That's dumb."
He chuckled. "It is. But people are like that."
She was quiet for a while, watching the shifting light on the carpet.
"Papa?"
"Yes?"
"If I had special blood, and I was really a goddess or something—"
He raised a brow. "You're not."
"—I'd still be me. Right?"
He didn't answer right away. "Yes. You'd still be you."
"Then stop acting like I'm going to turn into a monster."
His face changed. She didn't understand what she saw there. Regret? Fear?
"I don't think you're a monster," he said gently.
"Then why are you scared of me?"
"I'm not scared of you," he corrected. "I'm scared for you."
She looked down at her hands. "Everyone treats me like I'm glass. Except Mama. And Aunt Vivi."
Reginald's gaze sharpened. "Aunt Vivi treats you well?"
Eva nodded. "She lets me climb her shelves and sneak chocolate. And she tells me secrets sometimes."
Reginald's mouth twitched, something unreadable in his expression.
"She says I ask too many questions," Eva added. "But I think she likes it."
"I'm sure she does."
He stood slowly and crossed to the window, looking out at the fading sky. "There's a story I once heard. About a goddess who fell in love with a mortal, and the child they had changed the world—either for good or ruin."
Eva raised an eyebrow. "That's just a story."
"Yes," he said. "But sometimes stories are warnings."
She wrinkled her nose. "Even if I was something from a story, I'd still have a choice."
Reginald turned around. "That's what frightens people."
She tilted her head. "Because I can choose?"
"Yes."
"But that's not scary," she said. "That's fair."
His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Some people don't like fair."
They stood in silence again. Eva picked up a book but didn't open it.
"Do you… still love me?" she asked, suddenly.
Reginald froze.
"Because I love you," she added. "Even if you're weird lately."
He crossed the room in two strides and knelt in front of her, taking her small hands in his.
"I will always love you, Eva," he said quietly. "Even when I don't understand everything. Even when I'm afraid."
She nodded slowly, eyes bright but dry. "Okay."
"I might not have all the answers," he whispered. "But I'm still your papa."
"Okay," she said again, softer.
He kissed the top of her head and stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Don't disappear again."
He didn't respond. Just gave her a look filled with too many things, and walked out.
Eva sat for a while after he left, staring out the same window.
Aunt Vivi had once told her: "Sometimes grown-ups say things without saying them. It's our job to be patient until they find the words."
So she waited.
But the silence in her papa's voice didn't feel like waiting anymore.
It felt like he was already letting go.