"With that, the match has ended, and the boy has won." The knight's deep voice cut through the tense air as he approached Uncle Philip with measured steps, his armor clinking softly with each stride. His expression was stern, betraying no emotion as he closed the distance between them.
"Now, it's time for me to fulfill my role." The knight's voice was calm but authoritative, each word weighed with responsibility. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, more out of habit than threat, as he addressed Philip directly.
"Philip, I received a report from the neighborhood that you've been abusing your family. Now, I catch you in the act, raising your hand against a young boy." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly. "Even though he won, I don't know if that would still be the outcome if I hadn't arrived."
The knight's gaze hardened as he drew himself up to his full height, his presence commanding the space. "In the name of the king, Darius Crescent, I arrest you," he declared, his tone final, leaving no room for argument.
Philip, disheveled and panting from the fight, glanced around frantically as if searching for an escape, but there was none. His eyes darted to his daughter, Chris, whose face was streaked with tears, and then to his wife, Aunt Lyshia, who stood a few paces behind, her expression a mix of fear and sorrow.
"No! Don't take Papa away!" Chris cried out, rushing forward to stand between the knight and her father. Her small hands trembled as she clutched the hem of her dress, but her voice was firm, despite the quiver in her words. "I know he's done bad things… he's hurt us, but he's still my papa! Maybe… maybe he'll return to normal after this. Please, don't take him away!"
Aunt Lyshia stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, though her own eyes were filled with unshed tears. "I ask you the same," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, as though even speaking the words was an admission of her own fears and hopes.
I stood off to the side, my body still aching from the battle, yet my mind was more focused on the unfolding scene. I wasn't sure when Aunt Lyshia had woken up or how much she had seen, but her presence now felt heavy, as if her silence held more weight than any words she could speak.
The knight, however, shook his head slowly, his expression softening just a fraction as he addressed Chris directly. "Little Miss, I'm sorry, but I can't do that," he said gently, his voice losing some of its earlier sternness. "I must follow the procedures and take your papa to the capital. But I promise you, he won't be hurt. He needs to atone for his sins, but no harm will come to him."
Chris's tears flowed freely now, her little shoulders shaking with sobs. "But… can't Papa stay with us? Just for a little longer?" Her voice broke, and she buried her face in her mother's skirts, clinging to Lyshia as if she could keep her family from falling apart by sheer will alone.
The knight sighed softly, bending down to be at eye level with Chris, his armored hand resting lightly on her head. "I'm sorry, but he can't," he said, his tone full of genuine regret. "He needs to face the consequences of his actions. But I promise you this, someday your papa will return, and when he does, maybe he'll be the man he once was."
"Are you sure?" Chris looked up at him with wide, pleading eyes, her voice small and filled with desperate hope. "Promise me…"
The knight nodded solemnly. "I promise."
With that, he rose to his feet and gestured for two of his men to take Philip into custody. The scene was heartbreaking, the silence only broken by Chris's quiet sobs and the rustling of the knight's cloak as he turned to speak privately with Lyshia. I could only watch, feeling an overwhelming sense of helplessness.
"Come on, Will," my mother said softly, her hand resting on my uninjured shoulder. I hadn't even noticed her approach, too absorbed in the emotional turmoil before me. "Let's get you inside."
I nodded numbly, letting her guide me back to the house.
***
The walk was short, but each step felt like a journey, my mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Once inside, my mother led me to my room and helped me lie down on the bed, her touch gentle and comforting.
"Mother…" I hesitated, staring up at the ceiling as I tried to find the right words. "Did I do the right thing?"
She paused, her hand lingering on my forehead as she looked down at me with a mixture of concern and love. "I'm not the one who can answer that, Will," she said softly. "There's no one else who can answer that other than yourself."
With that, she stood up, giving me a reassuring smile before leaving the room. The door closed with a soft click, and I was left alone with my thoughts.
I replayed the events in my mind, over and over, each time questioning whether my actions had truly been justified. What would happen to Chris and her family now? Would they ever recover from this? If I hadn't interfered, would things have been worse? The uncertainty gnawed at me, making it difficult to find peace.
Eventually, exhaustion overcame me, and I drifted into a restless sleep, my mind still plagued by doubts.
***
When woke up the next morning, the sun was already shining brightly through the window. My body ached all over, a dull throbbing in my left shoulder suggesting that it might indeed be broken. I winced as I tried to sit up, every movement sending sharp jolts of pain through my limbs.
"Will, breakfast is ready!" My mother's voice called from downstairs, a hint of cheerfulness in her tone that belied the tension still lingering from the previous day.
"Yeah, I'm coming!" I shouted back, gritting my teeth as I forced myself out of bed. The pain was intense, but I couldn't let it keep me from facing whatever awaited me downstairs.
As I descended the stairs, I was surprised to see Aunt Lyshia and Chris sitting at the dining table. My heart skipped a beat, uncertainty gnawing at my gut. What were they doing here?
"Will, we need to talk," Aunt Lyshia said, her voice steady but lacking the warmth it once held. Her eyes met mine, and I could see the storm of emotions swirling within them—anger, sorrow, and something else I couldn't quite place.
"Yeah," I replied quietly, bracing myself for the confrontation that was sure to follow. I could feel my hands trembling slightly as I took a seat across from them.
Aunt Lyshia took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering as she spoke. "Will, I want to make it clear that as Philip's wife, I'll never forgive you for what you did," she said, her tone cold and sharp, each word cutting deep. "I told you to stay away from our house, didn't I?"
I swallowed hard, nodding. "Yes, you did."
"Then why did you come back?" she asked, her voice rising slightly with the question, as though she couldn't understand my actions.
"I'm sorry," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "It was my selfishness that drove me to come. I just… I couldn't stand by and do nothing."
Her eyes narrowed, and I could see the pain behind them, a pain that ran deeper than anger. "Can your sorry bring Philip back?" she demanded.
"No," I admitted, feeling the weight of her words press down on me.
"Because of your selfishness, Philip was arrested, and now you're still here, enjoying your life while our family falls apart," she said bitterly.
Her words hit me like a blow, but I didn't flinch. I had expected this, and I knew I deserved it. "I know that I can't make you forgive me," I said, my voice trembling with emotion. "But if it would help, if there's anything you want to do to me—hit me, slap me, whatever—I'll take it. If it'll bring you even a little bit of peace, I won't resist."
Aunt Lyshia stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she walked over to me. I tensed, bracing myself for the impact. Her hand came down hard on my cheek, the slap ringing through the room, stinging more than I expected. I didn't move, didn't react, just accepted it as my due.
Chris, who had been silent until now, gasped in shock, her eyes wide with confusion. She clearly hadn't expected Aunt Lyshia to actually strike me. I could see the conflict in her eyes—part of her was angry, but another part was just sad.
"Now that I've said what I needed to as Philip's wife," Aunt Lyshia began, her voice softer now, almost fragile, "I need to tell you something as Chris's mother."
She returned to her seat but didn't look at me right away. Instead, she lowered her head, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The silence stretched on, the tension in the room palpable.
Finally, she looked up, her eyes meeting mine, and what she said next caught me
completely off guard.
"As Chris's mother… I want to thank you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Because even though it was your selfishness that drove you to act, it's the same selfishness that might have saved my daughter from further suffering."
I blinked in shock, struggling to comprehend her words. "Aunt Lyshia…"
"I didn't want to admit it," she continued, tears welling up in her eyes. "But after Philip's arrest, I realized that the man I loved, the man I married, is gone. Maybe someday he'll return, but for now, what's left of him is a man who only brings pain and fear into our home."
I could see the heartbreak in her expression, and it tore at my soul. I had never imagined the situation would reach this point, that the person I once thought of as an uncle would become someone I had to defend others from. But this was the reality we were facing now.
"So as Chris's mother, I want to thank you, Will," she said, her voice trembling but determined.
I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "Thank you, Aunt Lyshia… and I'm truly sorry."
As the tension in the room slowly dissipated, Aunt Lyshia took a deep breath and turned her gaze towards my mother. "That's all I want to say; do you have anything to add, Lily?" Her voice was steady, but the vulnerability beneath it was unmistakable.
My mother, who had been silently observing the exchange, shook her head slightly. "No, there's nothing more to add," she replied softly, her tone carrying a hint of regret. "To begin with, I am not really involved in this case; it's all my son's selfishness to help your family, and I apologize for the problems my son has caused."
Her words were sincere, yet I could sense the underlying conflict in her voice—a mother torn between supporting her child and acknowledging the pain that had been caused.
Aunt Lyshia nodded, accepting my mother's apology with a slight smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"So, what's the real reason for your visit today?" my mother asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I know for sure that you wouldn't visit again after everything that's happened. Is it to settle this with us once and for all, then go our separate ways?"
Aunt Lyshia's response was immediate, and the firmness in her voice surprised both of us. "No, that's not it. I want to reconcile with you."
"Huh?" My mother's eyes widened in disbelief, and she looked at Aunt Lyshia as if trying to gauge whether she was serious. "Aren't you angry at Will? He's the reason your husband got arrested," she continued, her voice tinged with incredulity.
Aunt Lyshia shook her head slowly, her expression softening. "No, I said I couldn't forgive him, but I'm not angry at him. In fact, I don't have the right to be angry at him," she explained, her voice trembling slightly as she spoke.
"Just like that knight said, Will—a mere 9-year-old boy—tried to help our family and couldn't think of any other way to do it than fight Philip." She paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "On the other hand, I didn't do anything to solve the problem. All I did was hope that one day Philip would return to normal. So how can I be angry at him?"
Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of her confession. I watched as my mother's expression softened, the initial shock giving way to understanding. "Are you really sure that you want to reconcile with us?" she asked again, her voice gentle but still tinged with doubt.
"Yes," Aunt Lyshia affirmed with a nod, her resolve unwavering. "Even though it might not be like before, I still want to get along with your family."
The room fell silent as the gravity of her words settled over us. It wasn't an easy decision for her—nor for us—but it was a step towards healing, towards rebuilding the bonds that had been frayed by the events of the past few days.
After that, we gathered around the dining table for breakfast, the four of us. The air was thick with a lingering awkwardness, but beneath it was a shared determination to move forward, to reclaim some semblance of normalcy. The food was simple, the conversation sparse, but it was a start—a small, tentative step towards restoring what had been broken.
As we ate, I couldn't help but glance around the table, at the faces of the people who were like family to me.
There were still so many unspoken words, so many wounds that needed time to heal, but for the first time in what felt like an eternity, there was hope. I didn't know how long it would take for things to return to how they used to be—if they ever truly could—but I knew we were all willing to try.
And in the end, that was enough.