The Hockey Star’s Remorse by Riley Above Story

Chapter 216

The city lights glowed dimly in the distance as I stepped out of the office building.

“Timothy?” I called out, uncertain if my eyes were playing tricks on me.

He straightened up, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Hey, Evie. Fancy seeing you here.”

I shook off the confusion, my tired brain slowly processing the unexpected encounter. “What are you doing here?” I asked, a hint of suspicion coloring my words.

Timothy hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to share his intentions. “I thought maybe we could grab dinner together,” he finally said, a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Dinner? The idea sparked a twinge of excitement in me, the prospect of spending time with Timothy outside the confines of our workplace strangely appealing. “That sounds nice,” I replied, my weariness momentarily forgotten. “Where were you thinking?”

A subtle grin crossed Timothy’s face as he gestured toward the street. “There’s a cozy little place a few blocks from here. What do you say?” NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

I nodded in agreement, a sense of anticipation building within me. As we walked together, the city’s night sounds enveloped us in a comforting hum. However, Timothy’s next words shattered the tranquility.

“Oh, by the way,” he began, his tone taking on a cautious edge, “my father and his girlfriend will be joining us for dinner.”

My excitement deflated like a punctured balloon, replaced by an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Your father and his girlfriend?” | echoed, my mind racing to process this unexpected turn

of events.

Timothy nodded, seemingly oblivious to the internal turmoil he had just unleashed. “Yeah, Kamran thought it would be nice for us all to get together. Maybe he’s trying to make amends, you know?”

Make amends? The words hung in the air, a heavy cloud of uncertainty settling over me. I had never been close to Timothy’s father, Kamran, and the mere thought of spending an evening with him and his girlfriend sent shivers down my spine. Still, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was a genuine attempt at connection.

An internal struggle ensued, the rational part of my mind warring with the uneasy feeling in my gut. Timothy’s

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hopeful expression added to the pressure, as if he genuinely believed this dinner could be a step towards reconciliation.

Against my better judgment, I mustered a forced smile. “Sure, why not? It might be a good opportunity for, uh, bonding.”

Timothy’s face lit up. “Great!”

Aria lounged on the living room couch, scrolling through her phone. She looked up as I entered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. “So, meeting the parents already? My, my, Evie, things are moving fast.”

I shot her a half–hearted glare. “This is not a joke, Aria. It’s complicated.”

Aria raised an eyebrow, her playful demeanor shifting to one of genuine concern. “Complicated?”

I took a deep breath, the gravity of the situation sinking in. “I already met Kamran, remember? At the holiday party when I threw a glass of champagne on him.”

Aria’s eyes widened. “Oh, yeah…”

I nodded solemnly. “Yeah.”

Aria let out a low whistle, her usual light–hearted banter replaced by a somber tone. “Are you sure you want to go to dinner with them? I’m sure Timothy would understand if you backed out.”

The hesitation lingered, but a sense of obligation pushed me forward. “Kamran asked Timothy to invite me. I don’t know what his game is, but I want to find out. Maybe there’s some explanation, some reason behind all this.”

Aria sighed. “Just be careful, Evie. If things get too uncomfortable, don’t hesitate to walk away.”

Her words resonated with a truth I couldn’t ignore. The prospect of facing Kamran felt like a bizarre social experiment and left me on edge.

As I retreated to my bedroom to find an outfit, Aria followed. My hands fumbled through the hangers, my mind wrestling with the dilemma of what to wear.

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Aria leaned against the doorframe, her eyes scanning the chaos of my indecision. “Need any fashion advice for tonight’s dramatic episode?”

I rolled my eyes, a flicker of a smile escaping my lips. “How about one that says “I’m not a mistress, I swear“?”

She snorted, walking over and reaching out to grab a simple yet elegant black dress. The fabric felt cool against my skin as I slipped into the dress. She turned me around and helped me with the zipper as I slipped into my high–heeled shoes.

Aria’s voice broke the silence, her attempt at humor returning. “So, you and Timothy, huh? Did you ever think it would be like this?”

I shook my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. “Not in a million years. It still doesn’t feel real.”

Aria grinned, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “He’s a good kisser, isn’t he?”

I shot her a wry smile. “I don’t like to kiss and tell.”

The doorbell rang, stunning us both. I rushed out of my room to open it and found Timothy on the other side, his expression a blend of anticipation and nervousness.

“Hi,” he said sweetly, leaning in to kiss me. “You look beautiful. Are you ready?”

I took a deep breath, and cast a glance at Aria, who gave me a thumbs up.

“Yes,” I said, taking his hand. “Let’s go.”

The hum of the city surrounded us as Timothy’s car glided to a stop in front of the restaurant. The warm glow spilled from the windows, casting a welcoming aura that belled the storm brewing within me. As I unbuckled seatbelt, Timothy turned to me with a sigh.

“Okay,” he began, his voice soft but earnest, “I need to prepare you for my father. He’s a bit… particular.”

my

I raised an eyebrow. I suppose I should have expected certain expectations. “Particular? What does that mean?”

Timothy sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, my father, Kamran, he has his own set of rules, expectations, you name it. Just follow along, be polite, and everything should be fine.”

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I frowned, a knot forming in my stomach. “Rules? This sounds like a military operation, not a family dinner

Timothy offered a small, rueful smile. “It’s the only way to navigate the Kamran landscape, trust me. I’ve been. doing it for years.”

A sense of foreboding settled over me, and I let his words sink in. “What kind of rules are we talking about here?”

He took a deep breath, as if bracing himself for the revelation. “No direct eye contact unless he speaks to you, don’t bring up certain topics that verge on pop–culture, and don’t challenge his opinions. That’s the short list, but it should get you through the night.”

I blinked in disbelief, the absurdity of it all hanging in the air. “No direct eye contact? What is he, a monarch?”

Timothy chuckled nervously. “More like a king of his own castle. Just play along, Evie. We’re almost there.”

As we stepped out of the car, a sense of trepidation clung to me like a second skin. Timothy walked beside me, his strides purposeful, and he placed a comforting hand on my lower back.

As we approached the restaurant, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses emanating from within. I took al deep breath, fighting the urge to run the other way.

All at once, my façade of normalcy crumbled. Kamran stood outside, his tall figure commanding attention, and beside him was a woman. The dim streetlights cast a soft glow, but it was enough to catch a glimpse of her face.

“I take it that’s the other woman,” I whispered.

“Yep,” said Timothy,

She had a head of long, dark hair and a curvy body. As Kamran told a joke, the woman threw her head back in laughter, and the jewelry on her wrists and neck jingled. She had a familiar bohemian look, like she was the type

to loath restraint.

As she turned, revealing her face, a wave of recognition washed over me. My heart pounded in my chest. It couldn’t be.

But as we drew closer, there was no denying the truth.

The shock froze me in my tracks, my mind struggling to comprehend the surreal scene unfolding before me. Timothy, caught up in his own stress, continued walking with an easy stride until he jerked backward and

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noticed me standing still

“Evie, what’s wrong?” he asked, concern etching lines on his forehead.

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I tore my gaze away from Kamran and my mother, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. “That woman with Kamran,” I stammered, “she’s my

mother.”

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