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Emma... Mark frowned, staring at the jester as his heart pounded even harder.
— What do you… mean? This… it’s temporary, right? I’ll… I’ll turn back… turn back to…? — “To what?” the thought suddenly flashed through his mind as his trembling voice spilled out, but the jester only smirked, leaning back lazily.
— Turn back, don’t turn back. How boring. You’re an adult now, and adults don’t ask stupid questions, — he said lazily, and his figure began to dissolve into the air, breaking into a cascade of shimmering stars. — Anyway, you’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.
Large, beautiful eyes framed by long lashes widened, noticing the silhouette of the creature fading away.
— Hey! — a voice rang out in the silence of the room, high and breaking with desperation. — You can’t just leave! You have to bring everything back! — Mark shouted, but the jester was already nearly gone, dissolving into the air like a drop of ink spreading through water. All that remained were faint glimmers of light, flickering like ghostly echoes. Mark stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes slowly scanning the familiar outlines of the room.
He suddenly noticed the door to the room was slightly ajar. A thin beam of soft light from the hallway spilled through the crack, unnaturally still. The air felt frozen in time, as though the entire world was holding its breath. Only when the last spark of the jester’s disappearance faded did time seem to resume. The crack in the door widened, and it swung open abruptly.
Standing in the doorway was Monica, her brows slightly furrowed, as though expecting Emma to say something first. She didn’t step inside but studied her daughter sharply, her gaze searching.
— Emma? — she called, her expression shifting to one of concern as she scanned her face. — Are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost. Was it because of him? — She winced, briefly glancing away. — You were banging and shouting so loud I thought you were trying to knock the wall down.
Mark opened his mouth to say something, but the words stuck in his throat. His fingers still trembled, and his heart pounded like a hammer. Monica sighed, stepping closer until she stood directly in front of him.
— And that... person heard it too, — she remarked, a grimace forming. — Certainly not the most pleasant moment, of course. Said something like, "Well, it seems teenagers these days just can’t handle their nerves.". And you know what I told him? I said, “You better watch your mouth.” He shut up after that, but… Emma, — her voice softened, — you really put on a show. What happened?
She glanced at the table, where the book lay abandoned, and then back into her daughter’s eyes.
Mark stared back at her, unsure how to respond. How could he explain everything that had just happened? He didn’t understand it himself. Monica, not waiting for an answer, continued, her tone warmer now:
— Listen, if it’s about him, who cares? Sure, he’s rich and all, but… — she sighed, shrugging thoughtfully. — That doesn’t mean I’m going to tolerate his comments about you.
Her words pierced Mark’s heart like an arrow. He looked up at Monica, his wide eyes filled with uncertainty, his lips slightly parted as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. A strange warmth spread through him, both frightening and oddly comforting.
Monica was watching him intently now, her brow furrowed as if trying to decipher what had changed.
— My God… — she whispered. — I didn’t even notice… you’ve grown up so much these past few months. Just a little while ago, you were still a kid, and now… — her voice softened further as she gently touched Emma’s shoulder.
The warm gesture startled Mark. He froze, trying to keep his emotions in check, but it was too much. His eyes began to fill with tears, and he shook his head, trying to hide them, though it was impossible to conceal anything from Monica’s attentive gaze.
— It’s okay, — she whispered softly, pulling him into a gentle hug. — You know I’m always here for you.
The embrace was so warm and unexpected that Mark couldn’t help but melt into it. The jester’s mocking voice still echoed faintly in his mind, but near Monica, it felt distant, almost unreal.
The silence was broken by the sound of a rumbling stomach. Monica pulled back, smiling as she lightly patted Emma’s shoulder.
— Haven’t eaten all day again, have you? — she said, her tone free of reproach. — I made enough food to feed an army. Come on, let’s have dinner.
Mark, still dazed, nodded slowly. For the first time in a long while, he felt something resembling comfort and support in this house.