Building The Strongest Family-Chapter 198: Morning Talk

As far as he could remember, it had been years since Arthur had stepped foot in this garden.

The rose beds, once lovingly tended by his mother’s hands, were now cared for by a rotating staff of gardeners.

He found himself staring at the vibrant blooms, lost in a daze as memories surged around him like an overwhelming tide. His eyes glazed over, vacant and distant.

He recalled the time Billy had tried to climb one of those thorny bushes a six-year-old prince on a mission to rescue a trapped unicorn.

Instead, he got stuck among the thorns and cried until Arthur came to his rescue.

Rubbing his temple, Arthur leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, struggling to shake off the weight of nostalgia.

Just forty-eight hours ago, he’d disowned that same boy, his brother for what? A fleeting dream? A disagreement? A breakfast gone awry?

Exhaustion washed over him as he felt like a general fighting an invisible war, wearing a crown of iron expectations that no one else wanted to bear.

He’d weathered storms for this family, yet all he had left were ice in his voice and ghosts haunting his sleep.

With a bitter chuckle escaping his lips, Arthur couldn’t help but mock himself.

He’d only been head of the Osborn Family for just over a year and was already complaining about drowning in fatigue and frustration.

Shaking his head with a sigh, he muttered softly under his breath, "Having a family is both a blessing and a heavy responsibility... but which weighs more: the blessing or the responsibility?"

Just then, the soft crunch of gravel behind him pulled him back from his spiraling thoughts.

Turning slowly, he smiled upon seeing Aunt Margaret approach.

"Morning," her gentle voice floated through the air like the garden itself calling out to him.

Arthur chuckled softly in response. "Morning, Aunt! You’re up early!"

"I never really went to sleep," she replied as she settled beside him on the low bench. Wrapped in her shawl over her nightgown and with her thick braid coiled over one shoulder like an old habit, her gaze drifted across the pond filled with fish gliding beneath blooming roses.

"I figured if you couldn’t rest, you’d be out here."

They sat together in silence for several moments, the kind shared between people who’ve run out of things they can pretend not to think about.

Finally breaking the quietude, she said thoughtfully, "You used to come here every Sunday morning."

A faint smile crossed Arthur’s face but lacked humor. "I was twelve then, hoping if I sat still long enough Dad would finally share some wisdom I needed."

"Did he?" Margaret raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Nope." Arthur tossed some leaves into the water with a shake of his head.

Margaret let out a soft, sad laugh, brushing away something imaginary from her lap. "He wasn’t great with words, but he noticed everything. I think... in his own way, he was proud of you."

Arthur fell silent, the word "proud" hitting him like a shard of glass lodged in his chest.

She studied his face quietly before adding, "You look more like him every year."

He turned away sharply. "I’m nothing like him."

"That’s not true," she replied gently.

"Yes, it is," Arthur shot back but then softened.

"He would’ve known how to handle Billy. He would’ve known what to say, how to keep the family together without tearing pieces off himself to do it."

Margaret allowed silence to settle between them for just a moment before speaking again.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I don’t think your father always knew what he was doing either. But he learned. He listened. You... you’ve stopped doing that."

Arthur turned slowly toward her; the lines under his eyes deepened by sleeplessness spoke volumes. "I listen to everything."

"You listen like a lawyer," she countered softly, "not like a brother or a man."

That hit home hard; his shoulders twitched as if she’d struck a nerve.

Arthur stood up and began pacing along the pond’s edge, his robe brushing against the damp grass. "What was I supposed to do, Aunt Margaret? Let him walk away from everything we built?"

He suddenly stopped and looked at her intently. "Do you remember how we were suffering just a year ago? We were almost dead, cornered and powerless! It was me who pulled us this far! Each one of us sacrificed something to save our family from danger; we all did our best!"

He paused for breath before continuing passionately, "And now that we’re finally developing as a family, he wants to do whatever he pleases? He’d rather listen to some outsider than his own flesh and blood?"

Margaret rose too, not to confront him but to walk alongside him down the stone path. "You talk about sacrifice as if it’s always noble," she said thoughtfully.

"But not every sacrifice is virtuous; some are wounds we keep reopening because we’re too afraid to ask if they were ever necessary."

Arthur swallowed hard and clenched his fists tightly. "I killed for this family! Do you have any idea how many innocent lives I’ve taken because of one decision? But I had no choice, I had my family to protect! If I didn’t act, my family would be the one in danger!"

Margaret fell silent as she looked at Arthur with empathy etched on her face and sighed slowly.

"I know," she said softly while placing her hand over his trembling fist. "And that’s why it breaks my heart that you think that entitles you to everyone else’s dreams."

They paused by the rose bush, untamed and bursting with vibrant colors that seemed to scream for attention.

"I wasn’t trying to disown him," Arthur whispered, his voice barely above a murmur.

"But you didn’t listen to him either," she replied softly, her words laced with concern. "And maybe that’s what hurt him the most."

Arthur reached out, brushing his fingers across one of the blooms.

A thorn scratched his skin, leaving a tiny line of blood, a stark reminder of the pain that can come from beauty.

"Listen to him? About what?" he scoffed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "To tell me what he wants to do? Come on, Aunt! All my cousins are smart enough to realize that our family needs them to grow and thrive, it’s not time for stubbornness! But my brother...his head is just filled with all sorts of nonsense from that girlfriend of his."

"But..." she started, trying to interject. frёewebηovel.cѳm

"That’s enough!" Arthur cut her off sharply. "I don’t want to talk about this anymore." Without another word, he turned and stormed away from the garden.

Margaret stood there, watching him retreat with a heavy heart.

She sighed softly, sadness etched across her face as she pondered how easily misunderstandings could fracture even the closest bonds.

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