Chapter 291

Melody had spent the entire afternoon torn between two thoughts-on one hand, finding a way to get closer to Adam, and on the other, proving once and for all that Melanie was wrong about Adir.
In both cases, she seemed to think that she had the right to planning for both these people.
She paced the small confines of her home, thinking through every possible angle, revisiting old conversations, and weighing her options. It was nearly evening by the time she finally came to a decision.
After a long pause and one last moment of hesitation, she took a deep breath, grabbed her bag, and stepped out of her modest home, her mind made up. She was going to see her mother.
At home, she received a warm but slighlty careful welcome from her mother and she knew her mother was being wary of her due to the last time, when she had walked out in a huff.
She gave her mother a half-smile and quipped, “You’re watching me like I’m about to walk out in another dramatic exit. I promise. I was simply too shocked with the turn of events, mom.”
Her mother nodded softly, but the wariness didn’t entirely leave her expression. Melody noticed it right away, her eyes narrowing for a brief second. Of course her mother was being cautious, after all, she was worried about the well being of Melanie Collins. As if she was not trust worthy enough.
Melody blamed Melanie for this. Never before had her mother been wary of her in the past.
Blowing out a breath, Melody reached for her mother’s hand and held it gently. “Have you had any luck with Melanie?” she asked, keeping her tone light.
Marianne shook her head. “No. Not really. We tried… We’ve been trying, but it hasn’t gone anywhere. She’s been sick the last few days. At least, that’s what the staff said when we called. We didn’t get to speak to her directly.”
Melody frowned, but said nothing. Her mother continued, “Melanie has been communicating, yes, through her assistants or by email. But there’s been no face-to-face. And now… we’re almost at our wits’ end. The house is nearly done. The painters finished the kitchen yesterday, and the furniture’s been delivered for the new sitting room. Everything’s changed. And still, no sign of her in person. Your father is…”
Before her mother could continue, Melody interrupted, “Should I step in? Do you want me to talk to her? Maybe she’ll respond differently to me?”
Her mother didn’t answer right away. She studied Melody’s face like she wasn’t sure what to say, or maybe how much to say. Then, after a moment, she asked carefully, “How would you step in, exactly? And Melody? Are you really okay with that? I thought you didn’t… welcome Melanie.”
“It doesn’t matter whether I welcome her or not,” Melody replied quickly. “You and Dad want to reconnect with her, and I don’t want to sit here watching the two of you grow sadder every day. Besides, Melanie already knows me-as her adoptive son’s teacher. That makes it easier. She’s seen me, interacted with me. If I form some sort of connection with her now, she might accept it without too many questions.”
She watched as Marianne hesitated, her fingers curling inwards. Melody’s jaw tightened. Since when did her mother ever hesitate when it came to agreeing with her suggestions? It had never been like this before. All this carefulness, all this second-guessing -all of it had started with Melanie.
Taking a steady breath, Melody pressed on. “Mom, just today, someone asked Melanie if she and I were long-lost sisters. You know what she said?”
Marianne looked up at that, a spark of hope flickering in her eyes—completely missing the cold anger that now flared in Melody’s. “She said,” Melody continued flatly, “that it was unfortunate both her parents had died early, so we could not be sisters. Do you get what that means? She thinks you and Dad are dead.”
Marianne seemed to brighten at the words, her face lifting with something almost like joy under the warm light. “Then… do you think your grandmother didn’t fill her up with lies like we were imagining? What if she doesn’t think we’re monsters at all, just… gone? If that’s what she’s been told-that we’re dea-—it changes everything, doesn’t it? Maybe she doesn’t hate us. Maybe she just doesn’t know the truth.”
She stood up abruptly. “Let me go call your dad about this. This changes everything!”
Melody’s eyes widened, and she clenched her fists immediately. No. If her parents approached Melanie now, all her planning would go to waste. They’d ruin everything.
“Mom, wait!” she called out, her voice sharp.
Marianne paused mid-step, turning back with a questioning look.
“We don’t know for sure that that’s what she believes,” Melody added quickly, trying to recover. “I’m only telling you what she said. It could be that she made that up to avoid going into personal details. She doesn’t open up much, remember? Not about her past. Not about her family. Maybe she just wanted to shut down the conversation.”
That gave her mother pause. Marianne slowly returned to her seat, brow furrowed in thought. “That’s true,” she murmured. “Melanie’s always been private. She doesn’t talk about personal things—not even when she was younger.”
Melody nodded slowly, watching her mother calm down. Good. She needed to stay in control of the narrative.
“So, what do you think we should do then, Melody?” Marianne asked after a long silence.
Melody took a deep breath, setting her tone just right. “I think we need to find someone close to Melanie who can act as an intermediary-someone she trusts. Someone who isn’t one of us, and who doesn’t carry the weight of past baggage. Someone who won’t be seen as biased, but who can plead with her on our behalf.”
Marianne frowned, thinking it over. “But how would we find someone like that? We barely know anyone in her current circle.”
Melody shook her head. “You don’t need to worry about it. Let me take care of it. I already have some ideas.”
There was a brief silence before Marianne finally nodded. “Alright then. I’ll leave this matter to you for now.” She smiled then and patted her cheek,” My Melody has really grown up.”
Melody gave a small smile and nodded. But behind her eyes, something sharper stirred.
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