Chapter 800: Chapter 800 Mira’s parents
The next morning, Mira’s parents arrived.
They had caught the earliest flight, their faces pale and drawn, their eyes red from crying and lack of sleep. Mira’s father, Mr. Robbin, was a small business owner who ran a modest electronics repair shop in their hometown. His hands were calloused from years of work, his shoulders slightly stooped from bending over circuit boards and soldering irons. He wore a simple button-down shirt and dark trousers and his hair was graying at the temples.
Mira’s mother, Mrs. Robbin, was a perfume maker with a small workshop in the city centre mall, where she blended essential oils and created custom fragrances for clients. Her hands were soft, her nails always perfectly shaped, and she smelled like lavender and jasmine. Her face was kind, her eyes gentle, but today they were filled with fear.
"Oh my god, what happened to my baby?!" Mrs. Robbin cried as she rushed to Mira’s bedside, her voice cracking, tears streaming down her face. She reached for Mira’s hand, her fingers trembling.
Mira was lying in the bed, her face still bruised, her eye still swollen, her arm in a sling. She was weak, too weak to speak, too weak to do more than blink and breathe. But when she saw her mother’s face, her eyes filled with tears, and she mouthed the words silently.
I’m sorry.
Mrs. Robbin’s face fell, and she leaned down, pressing her forehead to Mira’s hand. "No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. We’re here now. We’re not going anywhere."
Mr. Robbin stood behind his wife, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. He looked at Mira’s bruised face, her bandaged arm, her pale skin, and his eyes glistened. He did not cry, but he came close.
Bella stood in the corner, watching the scene unfold. Her heart ached for them, for the fear in their eyes, for the relief that was slowly replacing it.
After a few minutes, Mrs. Robbin turned to Bella, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and taking a shaky breath. "Bella, thank you. Thank you for taking care of her."
Bella shook her head. "I was the one who put her in danger. I should have been more careful. I should have—"
Mrs. Robbin held up her hand. "No. No. My daughter told me about you. She said you were kind and helped her when she needed it most. You don’t have to apologize."
Bella’s throat tightened.
Mrs. Robbin sighed. "Mira stopped talking to us two months ago. She stopped calling, stopped texting, stopped answering our messages. We were so worried, but we were also traveling for work. My husband had a business trip, and I had a client who needed me to create a custom fragrance for her wedding. We thought she was just busy. We thought she was just being a teenager because she was angry with us."
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her hand still holding Mira’s. "We travel a lot, you see. For work. My husband has clients all over the country, and I have workshops and events I need to attend. We thought she was fine. We thought she was just growing up and pulling away. We didn’t realize she was in trouble."
Mr. Robbin nodded, his voice rough. "We should have called more. We should have visited. We should have—" He stopped, unable to finish.
Mrs. Robbin continued. "We found out she had been giving all her money to a girl named Krystal. All of it. Her savings, her part-time job money, everything. She told us Krystal’s mother was sick, that Krystal had no one else to turn to. We tried to explain to her that she was being used, but she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t hear a word against her."
Bella’s eyes widened. "Krystal. She’s... she’s not what she seems," Mr. Robbin said.
Mrs. Robbin nodded. "We learned that the hard way. We met Krystal once. She came to our house, pretending to be Mira’s friend. She smiled and she cried and she told us how grateful she was for everything Mira had done for her. But there was something about her eyes, something clever and cunning. My husband and I both saw it. We tried to warn Mira, but she didn’t believe us, and she stopped talking to us."
Mr. Robbin spoke again, his voice rough. "She thought we were trying to control her. She said we didn’t understand what it was like to have real friends. She stopped talking to us after that."
Bella’s heart sank.
Mira’s hand trembled on the bed, her eyes wide, staring at Bella, her lips trembling. Bella understood. Mira was ashamed, embarrassed. She had been so blind, so desperate for friendship, that she had let herself be used.
Bella walked to the bed and took Mira’s other hand. "It’s okay," she said softly. "You didn’t know. None of us knew."
Mira’s eyes filled with tears again, and she mouthed the words. I’m sorry.
Bella squeezed her hand. "You have nothing to be sorry for."
Then Bella told Krystal’s full story to Mira and her parents. She told them about the stolen presentation, the fake donations, the lies, the manipulation, the way Krystal had used people and thrown them away when she was done.
Mrs. Robbin’s eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her mouth. "I knew it," she exclaimed. "I knew she wasn’t good. I could see it in her eyes. I told Mira, but she wouldn’t listen."
Mr. Robbin shook his head slowly. "We should have pushed harder. We should have made her see."
Bella looked at them. "You couldn’t have made her see. She had to see it for herself. And eventually, she did."
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Later, Bella sat in the living room with Mira’s parents. Dominique and Jason had joined them, making tea, offering snacks, doing everything they could to make the Robbin family feel welcome.
Jason had insisted on making the tea himself, which was a mistake. The water was too hot, the tea bags were forgotten until the last minute, and the sugar bowl was empty. He had to run back to the kitchen three times.
Dominique watched him with a mixture of amusement and pity. "Bro, you’re making them think we don’t know how to host guests."
Jason waved his hand dismissively. "I’m making them feel at home. There’s a difference."
"There is absolutely no difference."
"Yes, there is. One involves burnt tea. The other involves burnt tea and embarrassment."
Dominique shook his head.
Despite the chaos, the Robbin family relaxed. The atmosphere was warm, the laughter genuine. Dominique told stories about Jason’s racing disasters, and Jason retaliated by telling stories about Dominique’s most embarrassing life moments.
