Chapter 24: Changes Pt 2

Pushing open the familiar door, Asher entered Scarlett's office.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face at the sight of a stranger, but it was quickly snuffed out by the mask of stoicism he wore these days.

He bypassed the newcomer entirely, his gaze landing on Scarlett.

"You need something, Mom?" His voice was polite, laced with a hint of inquiry that could be easily mistaken for genuine curiosity.

Though really, why else would she call for him? He already knew. This little act wasn't fooling anyone, least of all him.

'Perfect timing,' the little voice in his head – the one that sounded suspiciously like a used car salesman – gleefully chirped.

'She saved all my trouble.' he thought, a smirk twisting his lips beneath the mask of feigned innocence.

Scarlett's smile, usually warm and genuine, appeared strained at the edges.

Her eyes, red-rimmed and slightly puffy, like someone had been binge-watching tearjerkers on repeat, betrayed a sleepless night spent wrestling with whatever demons were gnawing at her insides.

"Do I need a reason to meet my son?" she countered, her voice a touch too bright, a touch too forced. It scraped against Asher's eardrums like nails on a chalkboard.

"No, I guess, not," Asher offered a small shrug. But a subtle shift in his tone acknowledged her concern. 'Sigh~ Looks like I gotta milk this grieving child act for a little while longer.' It was pathetic, but hey, it served his purpose well – keeping her smothered in worry and guilt.

…

Asher gave a response that could have been interpreted as warmth.

While Scarlett stared at him.

'Where did everything go wrong? The bright, inquisitive boy who used to pepper her with questions had vanished, replaced by a stoic stranger with eyes as cold as a winter's night.

Looking at the Current Asher was like watching a flame slowly sputter out. The spark in his eyes, the curiosity about the world, all replaced by a dull determination.

A determination focused solely on training.

It had been like this ever since the awakening and his birthday, their interactions had been like this.

Sparse words, each one laced with a stoicism that felt foreign on his once-expressive face.

Asher chose each syllable carefully to portray a specific image – a hollow shell of the bright child she once knew.

The eyes of Asher fueled her anxieties, the urge to smother him with concern rising like bile in her throat. But she knew that would only push him further away.

"Come here, Ash," her voice strained but gentle, but each word felt like a shard of glass tearing through her throat.

"Tell Mama, what's wrong?" Her hand trembled as she reached out, the simple act of offering a hug felt like trying to move through mud.

Every instinct screamed at her to pull him close, to erase the haunted look in his eyes.

Yet, when she tried, she felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat.

A heavy guilt, a weight she couldn't explain, held her back.

She felt a wave of self-loathing crash over her, filled with guilt and despair, her stomach churning with how things were going.

Gone was the bright spark that used to light up Asher's eyes.

Now, a dullness resided there, a stark contrast to the small and timid yet bright child, he was.

Asher didn't seem to mind much, at least on the surface.

'Might as well play along for now.' He simply walked towards her. Shuffling himself closer, allowing him to be enveloped in her embrace.

"I'm fine." he muttered, the words lacking conviction. It wasn't a lie; he was achieving his goals. But to Scarlett, it sounded like a defeated child trying to be strong.

"Fine?" Scarlett almost choked out, as the echo of his hollow 'fine' reverberated in her skull. Words caught in her throat, with strangled questions.

Deep down, she knew it wasn't true. Not a single part of her believed him.

She reached out, a trembling hand brushing a strand of hair from his face.

It was a desperate attempt at connection, a silent plea for the son she'd lost.

"My Asher, he wouldn't use 'fine' nor will he be this quiet. He'd tell me exactly what's bothering him." Her voice soft and in the form of whisper, a small tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down her milky white cheek.

Asher flinched at the touch. The flinch is a subtle movement, but enough for a mother's heart to shatter into a million pieces.

A flicker of something crossing his face - was it annoyance, or perhaps a flicker of the boy she used to know? – crossing his face before it was masked by indifference.

Her shoulder slumped, the sight of it, the way he hid his emotions, tore another piece from Scarlett's already shattered heart.

This wasn't a game, not a performance. This was the reality in front of her. That her son, her Asher, was gone.

Something stirred within her heart. It felt like someone was grabbing it, and squeezing it tight.

Guilt, a suffocating weight, settled in her chest. It constricted her lungs, making it hard to breathe.

'How far gone are we?' she wondered, the dam of her emotions threatening to burst.

Her breath, a little rigid, but Scarlett didn't let it show much.

Seeing her cry, Asher felt something akin to amusement, a dark and twisted amusement, quickly masked by an expression.

'Here we go,' he mimicked an expression of sadness, but inside, a wide grin bloomed. 'Just as expected,' he thought.

Scarlett clung to him, a drowning woman grasping at a straw.

This wasn't her son anymore, not truly.

The boy who used to launch himself into her arms after a scraped knee wouldn't have flinched at her touch.

This felt different, it was wrong.

This was a stranger, a product of her failures.

Exhaustion gnawed at her.

Sleep had abandoned her for a week, replaced by nights of relentless worry.

'Where did everything go wrong?' The same questions echoed in her mind, constant torment nightmares.

What had happened to him? Where was the easy smile that used to light up his face? Her heart ached for the expressions he made during their interaction, the way he smiles. All of them, she barely recognised…

Was this her fault? Was there something she could have done differently?

The weight of those thousand unspoken questions pressed down on Scarlett. Was it a pity? Or something far worse? A cold dread snaked its way up her spine.

"Stella, take Liliana and... show her the gardens" she asked, her voice strained.

The girl in the corner, who'd been staring intently at Asher, flinched at the sound of her name before looking down at her lap.

Her small hand subconsciously reached for a locket hidden beneath her shirt.

"Yes, Mistress." Stella gave a curt nod before leading a small girl, Liliana, out of the office.

Asher noticed the way the girl kept glancing back, her eyes filled with a strange mix of longing and grief, watching the interaction between Asher and Scarlett before disappearing down the hallway.

Now alone with her son, a primal instinct, fierce and protective, rose to the surface.

Scarlett pulled him closer, settling him on her lap, and engulfed Asher in a suffocating hug, displaying a fierce protectiveness. Her grip was so tight it almost hurt.

Her body trembled as she buried her face in his hair, inhaling the faint scent of soap and something uniquely of his own, it was comfortable.

After so… long, Scarlett felt at peace.

"Mom?" Asher murmured, his voice softer than usual, feeling something different about her.

A choked sob escaped Scarlett's lips. "Just hold me," she whispered back.

The words she longed to say, the desperate apologies and pleas for forgiveness, wouldn't come. What should she say?

'Sorry, I didn't do anything? Or I wasn't there to give you support? When I was standing just a few steps away from you!' Scarlett wasn't able to move that day.

Elysia's words, laced with venom and betrayal, echoed in her mind. "I hate him!" they screamed, each word a jagged shard of ice piercing through Scarlett's soul.

'I… didn't know Ely hated… him to this extent.'

'Had I… been so blind? Had I failed to see the growing resentment in Asher's heart? Or worse, had I seen it and ignored it, clinging to the illusion of a happy family?' Despair, a cold, chilling dread, settled in her stomach.

The weight of a thousand unspoken questions threatened to crush her.

Maybe Asher did hate her now. Maybe this was all her fault. Scarlett was choking by the suffocating weight of her failures, a leaden weight pulling her under.

Her grip, fueled by a desperate need to hold on to the last shred of him, tightened further.

But Asher didn't respond this time.

He didn't hug her back, didn't offer any comfort. He simply sat there, rigid, a statue carved from grief and resentment.

Tears streamed down Scarlett's face, hot and stinging. Words, apologies that wouldn't erase the hurt, wouldn't mend the broken bridge between them, clogged her throat.

"Just for a while, sweetheart," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears.

The words were a desperate plea, a flimsy dam against the tide of her emotions.

But even that meager attempt felt hollow, a betrayal of the truth that gnawed at her.

She wasn't asking him to hold her… She was begging him to let her hold him, to pretend for a stolen moment that this wasn't a broken shell cradled in her arms.

Just hold him close, for a while, and pray that somehow, someway, the warmth of her embrace could reach the lost boy buried deep within him.

"Just... for a while..." she choked out, each word a ragged breath against his ear. "...let me... hold..." Her voice trailed off, dissolving into silent sobs. "...you…"