My Dearest Reader-Chapter 15: Food

Love is like food.

When love is fed to you on a silver platter, someone serving you every bite, you'll probably get annoyed by it.

When it is stolen from your mouth, your teeth clench to it like you were a dog. You then crave it enough to hate it.

The thing about food is, it is irreplaceable to the human body. Surviving without is asking to die.

But living without love is a slow death.

In essence, both are essential.

But when both are put on the plate, which one will you choose?

When Mael was alive. Before he had seen his sister's story.

He stood on two sides. One where he loved his sister, the other where he needed shelter and food from his parents. He had always chosen the latter. Each time without fail. Till he lost love.

Till he lost what actually had mattered to him.

But it was not like you could actually blame him. He was a kid too.

Just the fact being that, he had asked her to stay. When he should have asked her to run away.

He remembered the night with her packing bags. It was her eighteenth birthday.

He wished he had run away with her.

He had chosen food.

He had made her choose nothing.

This was a memory that had knocked on his brain during the bath. Now he regretted thinking.

As he was walking with the maid's help.

The scene of the family friendly flames lighting the hall was as normal as it was beautiful. He was the first to arrive. He sat down on one end. The table was made of porcelain or some expensive rock.

He could see his face on it.

"Big brother!" Latte ran towards him.

He fell.

Just to stand up and run again. His grin wide.

The older boy wondered if he was a stereotypical dumb blonde.

"Big brother, do you like Belgi pancakes or Fran cakes more?" Latte screeched, the older boy covered his ears.

"I like Fran cakes more." Mael had no idea what either were.

Latte scrunched his face.

"On the other hand I think I prefer Belgi pancakes." Mael said before Latter could say something.

Latte's face brightened up.

"I know right Belgi berries are so sweet and delicious and–"

Mael turned off his brain, nodding to everything Late said.

"You two sure arrived quickly."

"Big sister!" Latte ran towards the older girl.

Mael wondered how kids had such energy.

Ambre picked Latte up with ease. She definitely was strong, was what Mael thought. Ambre put Latte down on a chair. Then sat beside him.

Soon, the dramatic parents had arrived. With all their flair and neglect in full display. They sat down on the chairs, glaring at Latte and Ambre.

What were they jealous teens?

They should never have had kids if this was how they were going to behave.

Mael was disgusted.

It reminded him of his parents.

"You sure seem to get along with your siblings now?" His mother, whose name he did not know.

He nodded.

He could leave the food now. He did not want love anymore either. But this time he would not choose something that was hurting someone.

"Mael, how has your day been?" The mother asked, turning towards him. Smiling softly.

"Fine." He answered.

"Did you have breakfast?" The father asked. His voice was gentle.

"No." Mael ate a bit of his food.

"Why?" The mother asked, turning towards the younger girl.

Who just sighed.

"Ambre!" Both of the adults said at the same time.

"You are supposed to take care of your little brother." The mother said, grabbing her fork tightly.

Before Ambre could reply, Mael had answered.

"What does it have to do with her?" Mael asked. Both the parents looked at him. Bewildered.

"I am a grown person, I can do it on my own." Mael stood up from his seat. His voice rose with his temper.

"She is not my servant." He wished he had said this all those times back.

He could have stopped her. Stopped all the hurt. Helped with her pain. A million choices. But he took none.

His throat felt dry, he sat down. Then the dinner was quiet.

Ambre looked at him from the corner of her eyes. Latte was confused.

"You guys have more than one child to take care of." Mael continued, this time calm. But his voice was burning.

"But sweetie, you are sick an–"

"So? Does that make them any less of your children?" Mael snapped and cut off the mother's words.

"You people need to stop using me as an excuse to treat your children badly." His voice was sharp as it was quiet.

Visit freёnovelkiss.com for the 𝑏est n𝘰vel reading experience.

"We are not." The duke spoke, his voice faltering.

"We love all our children." The mother looked down.

"Then tell me what cake does Latte like more? Fran cakes or Belgi pancakes?" Mael asked.

"Fran cakes?" The father said quietly, hoping that he would be right.

"Wrong, it's Belgi pancakes!" Mael sneered.

"You don't know anything about your own children, that is pathetic." These words were more or less to his actual parents who had treated him and his sister like trash.

But he was dead, and they were separated by a world. So he took out all his feelings on the incarnation of them.

"Don't you realize how wrong you are treating your other kids just to treat one of them better?" The boy said through gritted teeth, his anger pouring out.

"All your kids deserve your equal love." Years of well kept, well hidden anger closed inside a vessel, had broken into pieces that now had sworn to kill.

"By treating the other child badly you are hurting the so-called loved child too!" His memories of his sister hating him surfaced inside his head.

All those times he went to her, just to be yelled at or ridiculed.

But she apologized each time.

And that was important.

Love is not just for name. If you don't feed it to the person, they will never know its taste.

"You guys should apologize for all of what you have done." Mael said quietly.

"What we have done?" The mother stood up. She pointed towards Latte and Ambre who had been sitting still.

"We have given them homes, foo–" She yelled.

"So?" Mael swiftly ended her sentence.

"Even a beggar would do that for their children." He continued. He started to feel nauseous. His stomach turned.

"Heck, they would love their children too." He could feel himself lose his breath. Tears in his eyes. Hands shaking.

"Don't point out your family's money, as though it makes you great!" He said, his voice drowning. He had started to lose control over his body

Then he started coughing.

Everyone stared at him.

He threw up on the table, the single bite he had taken was out of him. Then it was blood.

All the anger spiralled into a knife stabbing him in the throat.

This was the second time.

He fell down.