Chapter 5: The Truth Beneath the Tea Leaves

A middle-aged man with a kind face came to our house.

He wore a tweed jacket and smelled of aftershave, his smile wide and reassuring. I watched from the stairs, heart racing.

He came in all smiles, joking about us being in-laws.

The words echoed in the hallway, strange and thrilling. I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing.

In-laws? In-laws?

I was listening from behind the hall, startled, my mind spinning. I wanted to rush to my parents and beg them to throw him out, but I knew better than to make a scene. I felt lost and hopeless.

The man said his surname was Morrison.

My heart skipped.

Morrison? Which Morrison?

Suddenly, I felt excited, then panicked, digging my nails into my palm as I crept closer.

I pressed against the wall, realizing my cheeks were burning.

He said he was Caleb Morrison’s uncle.

A wave of relief I didn’t even realize I’d been holding crashed over me, and all the feelings I’d been suppressing came rushing back.

I let out a shaky breath, leaning against the wall for support. Everything was changing, and I wasn’t sure I was ready.

I steadied myself against the wall, unsure whether to blame or scold Caleb for being so unpredictable—

How could he just... spring this on me?

Mom came in to make tea and found me crouched behind the door, shooting me a reproachful look.

She raised an eyebrow, but her eyes were gentle. I straightened up, smoothing my hair.

“Autumn, come here.”

Still gentle, but with a note of discussion.

Boiling water bubbled, steam rising in the housekeeper’s hands.

The kitchen was filled with the scent of mint and chamomile. I watched the steam swirl, feeling like I was floating.

Shriveled tea leaves danced in the hot water, unfurling and colliding.

Floating in amber liquid, the pale green gradually spread, like a strange new world.

I thought about how life could change in an instant—one cup of tea, one conversation.

“Autumn…”

Mom called me.

I was distracted, still hung up on why Caleb wouldn’t let me think things through.

I twisted my ring, trying to calm the storm inside me.

“What do you think of Caleb?”

Not Caleb the boy next door, not the childhood friend, but the one coming to propose—Caleb.

I touched my cheeks, feeling them hot, but tried to stay calm. “What do you think, Mom?”

But remembering all her past warnings about family status, I hesitated, sneaking a glance at her.

“I don’t want to marry you into the Morrison family.”

Mom sighed, pouring herself tea, and glanced at me.

Her eyes were soft, but there was worry there, too. I waited, not daring to hope.

“…Oh.”

I wanted to say something, but just clutched my clothes and lowered my head.

A sense of resignation washed over me.

I’d never told my parents what I really wanted—just played the good daughter, sneaking in little rebellions like skipping embroidery practice.

Maybe I’d gotten used to living by others’ expectations, following the rules but never standing out.

Maybe I already had my answer, just buried under too many worries.

“Autumn?”

I looked up, twisting my fingers, feeling something needed to break free.

“Mom, I…” I didn’t know how to start, stammering.

She waited, patient as ever. I took a deep breath, willing myself to be brave.

“This isn’t a whim, or a moment’s impulse.”

Mom’s calm expression made me feel even colder inside.

But I wasn’t willing to give up…

I looked her in the eye, searching for the right words.

Mom saw right through me and sighed, “You’ve always been like this—thinking too much, hiding too deep. Always going with the flow, careful with your words.”

She set the tea down and stared out at the sky.

The clouds drifted by, slow and steady. I wondered what she saw when she looked at me.

“As your mom, I’m afraid. If you’re always so passive, what if you get hurt? The Morrison family’s world is too high—I’m afraid you’d cry and never find your way home… I’m not made of iron—I want someone to protect you, but I can’t trust anyone with my precious girl…”

She looked me in the eye and asked:

“I just want to know what you think.”

Her voice was gentle, but firm. I knew she meant it.

“Tell me clearly.”

I froze, then answered honestly:

“I’m not sure… but I thought, if I’m going to marry, it can’t be settling for someone just because I know him. If it isn’t him, I’d regret it.”

The words hung in the air, true and terrifying. I waited for her reaction.

Mom listened quietly.

She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. For the first time, I felt like she saw me—not just her daughter, but myself.

The wind slipped through the yard, quiet as a secret.

Somewhere, a bird sang. The world kept turning, indifferent to my worries.

“We’re ready to agree—are you happy?”

I paused.

I had my answer.

No hesitation. I smiled, tears stinging my eyes. Yeah, I was ready.