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Angela remained still after sending the address to Gael's apartment to her brother. She couldn't tell whether she was relieved to learn about the information or more confused and upset than she originally was before Oliver told her about it.

The fact that their mother cheated on their father, left them, and how they never heard from her since then was crippling. As far as she could remember, she distanced herself from her father ever since her mother left, thinking that it was probably his fault that she left. Over time, she numbed herself whenever she was reminded that she no longer had a mother. 

Growing up without one, she remembered that the kids from school looked at her funny. Some would talk behind her back, and a few blatantly made fun of her, saying that her mother left because of her. As a child, she didn't want to believe it was the truth—though, of course, it didn't stop her from getting hurt by what they said. It wasn't just the kids, too. She even heard adults—those in their social circle—said they pitied her and Oliver because of their circumstances. She hated growing up like that. When she got older, she learned to tune them out and let whatever she heard enter one ear and leave the other.

Angela missed her mother terribly in the first few months. And every time she did, she would cry herself to sleep. Whenever there was a storm, she would crawl in Oliver's bed, and he would complain under his breath that she was being a baby, but he never kicked her out of his room. One time when he thought she was asleep, she heard him tell her that he was sorry. He didn't say what he was sorry about as he tucked her in and patted her arm like a mother would do to make a baby sleep.

But now that she's older, she thought, perhaps he was sorry for her that she was suffering? However, didn't that mean he was suffering too?

It had been like that ever since their mother left. If Angela didn't go to Oliver during a storm, he would look for her around the mansion, worried that she was all alone. Sometimes, he found her in her room. Other times, she would be in a corner in their library.

Angela became dependent on Oliver before they naturally grew apart a little when they became teenagers. They both went on their rebellious stages, but he was always there for her whenever she needed him.

She didn't hate her father, really. But their relationship was never the same ever since that day. Part of her resented him for not stopping their mother. Whenever she remembered that day, she could see her father somewhat chasing their mother out of the house. So that drove her away from him.

He tried patching their father-daughter relationship, but he was a little awkward with it—probably because she was a girl. Oliver and her father's relationship wasn't as strained as theirs—and she thought it was because Oliver was a boy.

Thinking about all of this, Angela felt incredibly guilty. Her father was hurt, and she was being a brat about something she didn't fully understand back then. She loved him—that didn't really change, even though they weren't as close as they were before their family got broken.

But she missed those times when she used to sit on his lap while he read her all the stories that she asked him to read for bedtime. Or even those times he tried to teach her how to play golf because she bugged him after learning that he taught Oliver how to play. Or even those times when he would bring her to his office whenever her school finished early, and she spent the whole afternoon with him as she colored her books or wrote in her notebooks.

Angela let out a sigh, feeling the urge to call her father just to tell him she was sorry. Should she tell him about today too? A voice inside her told her that she should, but then a bitter part stopped her. During Christmas, her father opened up about seeing someone. She didn't want to spoil his relationship with his girlfriend by reminding him of his ex-wife. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" a man's cool voice pulled her out of her trance. Gael tilted his head when her eyes swung in his direction. "You've been quiet. Wanna talk about it?" 

"Just…thinking about the past. I don't know when everything went downhill. I wonder how my life would be so different if my mother hadn't left us."

His hand rubbed small circles on her back in a soothing manner before it slid up to her shoulder, making gentle squeezes. It's such a simple gesture, but it elicited a comforting warmth inside her. He stared at her as if he was internally debating. There was something in his eyes that she couldn't read, so she wondered, "What are you thinking right now?"

Gael paused before answering, "Our week didn't start too well. I'm wondering if bringing you to the library today was a good idea, considering what happened."

"Oh, Gael…" Angela scooted closer and held his free hand in both of hers. "Don't feel bad about that. That was out of your control. I was ecstatic that you brought me there like you promised. And I loved that I went there with you. It wouldn't have been the same if I went there alone or with someone else."

He narrowed his eyes. "You'll never go out alone. Wherever you go, I go. Going with someone else is not an option."

She laughed because the little green monster poked out of him. Instead of responding, she leaned in and brushed her lips on his. It was a soft and gentle kiss until he glided his hand on her nape and deepened it, stroking his tongue with hers in a duel that neither of them wanted to lose.

Her phone buzzed on her lap, and she jumped at the vibrating sensation, breaking their kiss. Gael stole one more kiss before he allowed her to check on the message.

Oliver's name was displayed on the inbox notification. Her brother promised to send the notebook tonight and told her to expect delivery tomorrow. Her brows furrowed upon seeing the text with an image attached to it.

[ Oliver: I've already dropped the package and sent it through overnight delivery. I was told you should receive it in the morning. But I thought you wouldn't be able to fall asleep thinking about it, so I took a photo of the last entry. The one I told you about. I don't like that this would bring back bad memories for you. But I know you can handle this. I'll probably end late tonight, Anj. But call me if anything. ]

Sure enough, he sent a picture of an old page with a child's writing on it. Angela swallowed as her shaky fingers hovered over her screen; even before reading it, she already recognized that it was her handwriting. 

"Hey…" Gael lifted her chin with two fingers until she met his gaze. "You can do it. I'll be right here."

Releasing a long breath, she nodded before tapping on the first photo.