Chapter 3: Letting Go

Keller's heart felt heavy as he stood in the quiet of the kitchen that morning. Today was his father's wedding, a day he hadn't planned to acknowledge but couldn't seem to ignore. The steady drip of the leaky faucet echoed in the background like a reminder of the cracks that still remained—glaring, unhealed, and impossible to escape.

The ceremony was being held at an upscale golf club in the suburbs. Keller had decided to go. He wanted to see, with his own eyes, the man who had abandoned his family, now playing the role of a polished, successful gentleman in front of a crowd of admirers. He put on a clean shirt and walked out the door with a sense of determination he couldn't quite put into words.

When he arrived, the ceremony was already in full swing. The sprawling lawn was adorned with extravagant decorations, rose petals scattered along the crimson carpet, and impeccably dressed guests mingling amidst laughter and congratulatory toasts. Standing at a distance, Keller's gaze cut through the crowd and landed on his father.

Mark, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, exuded an air of ease and charm that made him look years younger than he was. His hand rested on the arm of the bride—Marianne, a woman fifteen years his senior but undeniably wealthy. They looked like a picture-perfect couple, as though they belonged on the cover of a glossy magazine.

Keller's chest tightened. Memories of a rainy night five years ago flooded his mind. His father, dragging a suitcase to the door, had turned back to Julie and said, "I can't keep living like this, Julie. I need a new life."

Julie hadn't cried or begged him to stay. She had stood by the stove, clutching a spatula so tightly her knuckles turned white. Keller had been rooted to the spot, watching helplessly, his throat choked with words he couldn't speak. The sound of rain tapping against the windowpane that night had etched itself into his memory, a constant background noise in his mind.

Now, in the present, Keller's hands trembled. A surge of anger coursed through him. He wanted to march over, call out the hypocrisy of this charade, and make everyone see the man his father truly was—a selfish coward who had traded his family for a life of luxury.

"Keller?" A small, familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

Keller turned to see Ella standing there in a simple white dress, clutching the little wind chime in her hand.

"What are you doing here?" Keller asked, his brow furrowing.

"Mom said we shouldn't come, but I wanted to see Dad," Ella replied, her voice wavering slightly, her innocent eyes searching his face.

Keller knelt down, resting his hands gently on her shoulders. His expression was firm, his voice soft but resolute. "Ella, listen to me. He's not the man you think he is. He... he doesn't deserve your trust."

Ella tilted her head, her confusion evident. Before she could respond, the wedding march began, drawing the crowd's attention toward the aisle. Keller clenched his fists. He could still storm in, disrupt the ceremony, and lay bare the truth. But when he looked back at Ella, her face filled with hope and longing, his resolve faltered. No matter how flawed their father was, Ella still yearned for the love he represented.

Taking a deep breath, Keller stood and took her hand. "Come on, Ella. Let's go home."

Ella hesitated, her small brows knitting together. "But the wedding…"

"It's not for us," Keller interrupted. His voice was calm but unwavering. He led her toward the exit, his steps steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside him.

As they neared the gates, Keller suddenly felt the weight of a familiar gaze. He stopped and glanced back, his breath catching when he spotted Aiden standing at the edge of the reception area.

Aiden was impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit, holding a glass of red wine in one hand. He stood slightly apart from the crowd, his posture relaxed yet detached, as though the event unfolding around him was of no consequence. His gray-blue eyes lifted,meeting Keller's in an unspoken connection that lasted a heartbeat too long.

Keller's heart skipped. He hadn't expected to see Aiden here, of all places.

Aiden's expression was difficult to read—somewhere between surprise and indifference, tinged with an almost imperceptible awkwardness. His presence in such an opulent setting seemed out of place, at odds with the disdain he usually carried for superficiality.

Keller's thoughts raced. Why was Aiden here? Aiden didn't seem like the type to attend these kinds of events willingly. Then Keller saw her—a middle-aged woman in an elegant gown approaching Aiden. She leaned in to speak to him quietly. Aiden nodded, his jaw tightening slightly, though his face betrayed no emotion.

Understanding hit Keller like a cold gust of wind. Marianne, the bride, must be related to Aiden—an aunt or perhaps some other distant connection. Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. Aiden wasn't here by choice; he was here because duty demanded it.

Keller turned back, a strange unease settling in his chest. Seeing Aiden here, in this environment, stirred something in him he couldn't quite name—discomfort, curiosity, and a faint thread of understanding. Aiden, like him, seemed to be a reluctant participant in a world that didn't quite fit.

Without a word, Keller tightened his grip on Ella's hand and continued walking. Behind him, Aiden stood motionless, his glass of wine tilting slightly in his hand as he watched Keller and Ella leave. His expression remained stoic, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something more—something unresolved.

Outside, the sunlight bathed Keller and Ella as they stepped onto the pavement. The soft chime of the wind bell in Ella's hand broke the silence, its faint sound a testament to resilience. Keller's steps were heavy, but his heart felt lighter. He knew now that this wedding wasn't worth ruining, and neither was his peace.

As they moved farther away, Keller turned for one last glance at the grand building. His gaze was sharp, his shoulders squared with quiet resolve.

From a distance, Aiden remained at his post, his gray-blue eyes tracking their retreating figures. For the first time that day, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Interesting," Aiden murmured, tipping his glass and finishing the wine in one smooth motion.