Chereads / Cinderella is Sleeping / Chapter 23 - "Raindrops"

Chapter 23 - "Raindrops"

We arrived at the funeral location where the service was to take place. And a large number of people came to attend the funeral to pay their respect and acknowledgement for the late mistress of the house. The Minamoto family were also seen at the moment and some far away relatives. The atmosphere was gloomier than the usual rainy days where people were dressed in black attire holding the umbrellas above their heads.

As if my wound would be washed away if I stayed in the pouring rain I waited for it to ease my misery. And refused to be under the umbrella.

"Happy journey mama... You would be deeply missed and I love you too." I stood beside father and said my last farewell to her with a smile before her coffin was kept beside first mistress graveyard and the men buried it under the ground, covering by the soils later.

Watching the scene people present there talked and whispered into one another's ears how unfortunate and pitiful it was,

"Poor girl. She don't deserve such a tragedy."

"Neither the first nor the second mistress could make it."

"May their souls rest in peace..."

Their graves layed beside one another; scribbled, "In the Loving Memory of Late Fujiwara Maezawa. May 14. **** -- July 14. ****. Rest here."

They left one by one except for the relatives and some close acquaintance while father got busy attending them.

Yuuma approaches me from a distance and held out his umbrella over my head, "He taps my shoulder and lightly pats there, "I can well imagine what you are going through but you need to stay strong at times like this."

I stayed quietly in numb.

"I will be there for you if you ever need to talk or just need someone to listen." He says it watching me sadly, "Please don't be in the rain or you would catch a cold." He hands the umbrella and walks away while he got himself drenched in the rain and disappears.

Brothers came by convincing me to leave with them but gave up in the end after watching my unstirred face and decided to wait by the car until I was over with it.

"How long are you gonna stay here in the rain?" A voice called upon me. And looked over at the strange boy whom I had forgotten at that moment. Or maybe I was the funny one.

I was in the brink of tears, "Aito..?" I didn't want to cry again but before I knew it I was sobbing louder than I ever had before.

He watched me coldly obviously annoyed and sighs, "It's okay to be sad but I hate noisy brats."

I rub my red, puffy wet eyes sniffing and sneezing with a hanky and cries again like a baby.

"Tsk, knock it off lil sis let's go now..." He pulls my hand against him stealing the umbrella from my right hand then drags me away with him like a man which shut me up in daze.

Days goes by then months slipped, I felt my heart gradually healed but even months after her death, I used to go downstairs after a good nights sleep and look for her.

I was lonely, separated from them as though a glass wall stood between my existence and theirs. Heart sank deeply at their cold gazes and shoulders. Even the man whom I call father, was rarely at home. He started to spend his time in luxurious places like hotels and workplace as though he had forgotten to return home. So when I was summoned at his presence I was content to see him again.

I hugged him warmly waiting for his embrace. He smelled like alcohol but I didn't mind , "Papa!!"

The feeling of protection and comfy they give you when your hug is being reciprocated makes you heart feel at ease. It makes you believe that you are still wanted and not someone who is a burden, "How is my daughter?" He hugs back.

I smile sweetly, "Better." Yet I felt abandoned, lonesome and isolated. Can they tell?

He pinch my cheek lovingly and smiles back frowning, "I wonder how would you react if I say it's my last stay today..."

I think I realized what was coming yet i didn't want to believe, "What do you mean papa? Are you going somewhere again?"

"Yes, Iam going on a long business trip."

"When are you returning?" I asked calmly.

He shook his head, "Can't say. Once a month. Or maybe a year? Depends on the work."

My heart throbs a bit, "Is it that important? Do you really have to go?"

He nod his head in reply uttering the words. But he was never or rarely at home would it have made any difference? What kind of work would it separate the father from his children?

We dined together for the last time. But brothers made no comment and shifted their attention back to their plates as though they were ubothered by this.