Page 53 of A Prescription to My Heart

Marigold’s face lights up, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes. She’s used to the quiet and calm we’ve had since we lost Lisa. She loves her grandparents, but the sudden intrusion of these people who—regardless of relation—don’t really know her isn’t lost on her.

“Are they staying with us?” she asks, her voice small, a little uncertain.

I look at her for a long moment, then nod. “For a little while.”

She doesn’t ask more, just returns my nod and clings to me a little tighter. My heart tugs, and I wish I could keep her this way forever—safe, unaware of the tensions building around us.

“Come on,” I say gently. “Let’s go say hi.”

I carry her back into the living room. Camille and Patrick are waiting, standing like statues, their eyes cold as they take in the scene. Camille’s smile is tight when she sees Marigold in my arms.

“Well, look at you,” she says, her voice syrupy sweet. “You’ve grown so much, darling. Are you feeling better? You had quite the nasty bump on your head last we saw you.”

Marigold doesn’t respond. She looks at me, her tiny hand clutching the front of my shirt, as though she knows what’s coming.

“She’s perfectly well,” I say for her.

Camille ignores me. “We’re going to stay for a little while, okay?” Camille says. “You can show us all your toys, and we’ll take such good care of you while we’re here. Wouldn’t you like that, darling?”

I can feel the irritation building in my chest. I can’t help it. I’ve tried to be patient. I’ve tried to play along, to let them feel like they’re still in control. But this is my daughter. I’ll be shocked if they think they can waltz in here and make decisions for her.

“She’s fine,” I press, my voice cold now. “She doesn’t need more caretakers. She’s not a project.”

Camille stands back up, her face faltering just for a moment. “Of course, Soren,” she says, though the edge in her tone is clear. “We just want to help.”

“I don’t need help,” I growl, barely holding onto my temper. “You’re not here to help. You’re here to take.”

Talia appears at that moment, her hand brushing against my arm as she moves past me. “Maybe we should all sit down,” she says, her voice steady, but there’s a nervousness to her movements, a wariness in her eyes. She knows what’s going on here.

I look at her, grateful for her presence, but at the same time, irritated that she has to be caught in the middle. She’s not even supposed to be part of this mess. But somehow, she’s here.

“We’re not taking anything,” Camille snaps, but her smile is already back in place, even if it’s not genuine. “We just want to make sure Marigold has everything she needs.”

I grit my teeth. “I’ve been doing just fine.”

“Of course you have,” Camille says, her voice patronizing. “But you’re a man, Soren. You don’t know what she really needs.”

I feel my hands tighten around Marigold, my jaw clenched. I want to tell her to leave, to get out, to stop pretending like she knows what’s best for my daughter. But I don’t. Not yet. I have to wait. I have to at least maintain the illusion for Marigold’s sake. She shouldn’t have to see this.

But then, Talia speaks. “Then it’s a good thing I’m here,” she says.

For a moment, no one moves. I wonder if anyone even breathes.

Talia puts on a smile and offers her hand. “Camille. Patrick. I’m Talia, and I’ve heard so much about you. It’s wonderful to finally make your acquaintance.”

I nearly smirk at the stunned expressions on Camille and Patrick’s faces.

When no one takes her hand, Talia politely returns it to her side. “I’m sure you’ve had a long journey.”

My in-laws exchange a glance and I suppress the scoff.

“Come on, Marigold,” I say, my voice softer now. “Let’s show Grandma and Grandpa the toys.”

Marigold nods, still holding onto me tightly. I’m aware of every step I take as I lead her toward the living room. The tension in the air is still thick, but I can feel the shift now that Talia’s here. Still, I just want this to be over.

I’m not sure how much longer I can tolerate them.

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