Chapter 381: Micah’s Mug Shot
Emile knocked on the door twice before easing it open just enough to peek inside. "Are you ready?"
Micah sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning up the shirt Emile had brought him. The hospital gown lay discarded in a corner. He had managed to change into plain pants and a loose shirt, but his movements were slow, his expression vacant.
"Give me a mask and a cap," Micah muttered, his voice flat.
Emile raised a brow but didn’t comment right away. Micah’s expression had turned dark after Darcy left the hospital. He hadn’t even let Clyde help him change.
The doctor had already been in to examine him one last time, giving him the clear to leave.
Throughout it all, Micah was absent-minded, looking as if he were a million miles away. His mind was occupied with Darcy. Since last night, Darcy’s manner had shifted. He had spoken differently, avoided eye contact this morning, then slipped away like he couldn’t bear to stay.
Micah’s chest ached at the thought. Something gnawed at the back of his mind, an unsettling truth he couldn’t put into words.
Emile returned a moment later with a cap and mask dangling from his fingers. "Here."
Micah took them, covering his bruised, swollen cheek. His reflection in the window’s glass barely looked like him anymore. Without another word, he left the hospital with Clyde and Emile. Micah moved slowly, each step measured. When they reached the car, he slid into the backseat between Clyde and Emile. After a night’s sleep, his beaten body had regained a sliver of strength, but his mood only sank lower.
Clyde, seated stiffly beside him, glanced at the boy from the corner of his eye. With the mask covering half of his face, it was impossible to read him, but the air around him was unmistakably too gloomy.
He reached out and clasped Micah’s hand. "Relax. If the worst happens, you can just call me. I’ll be there in no time."
Micah’s gaze flickered toward him. From behind the mask, he replied. "Sure."
He didn’t refuse it this time. Darcy’s coldness had drained him, leaving him without energy to argue with anyone.
Clyde didn’t speak anymore.
Micah shoved one hand into his pocket, fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of the white pouches. The question sat on the tip of his tongue. Why had Clyde given one for Darcy too? But with Emile sitting beside them, he decided to wait.
The drive didn’t take long. Being a Sunday morning, the roads were quiet, and soon enough, the Ramsy mansion came into view. Emile and Micah got out of the car, of course, with Micah being too slow and cautious not to strain his body even more.
Stepping inside, the first one to notice them was Jacob. He paused with a coffee mug in his hand. "Micah?" he called out hesitantly.
"Hi, Dad."
Jacob’s brows furrowed. His gaze swept over the cap and the mask, suspicious. "Why are you covering yourself like that?" Jacob asked, but his attention was shifted to the boy beside him. "Hello, I believe we’ve not met before."
Emile flashed an innocent smile. "Morning, Mr Ramsy. I’m Emile Collins."
"He’s my roommate, the one who came with Du Ponts to my birthday," Micah added quickly.
Recognition softened Jacob’s expression, his lips curving into a genuine smile. "Ah. Good to see you again. Come in, both of you."
But Micah lingered, shifting uneasily on his foot. "Dad, where is Mum?"
Jacob’s smile faltered. "She has a headache, still in bed. Someone not coming back last night was obviously the trigger."
"Sorry, Dad..." Micah said softly. He paused for a second, thinking maybe this was his chance to come clean and be far away from that feather duster. "Umm...Dad, I need to tell you something."
Jacob turned his gaze toward him. "What is it, son?"
Micah opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out. In the end, he resolved to show rather than tell. with shaking fingers, he pulled off his mask and cap.
The porcelain mug slipped from Jacob’s hand, smashing against the ground. The shattering sound echoed like a gunshot. His eyes bulged at the sight before him. "Why... what..." he stammered.
The noise made other family members come to the entrance.
"What was that sound?" Elina’s voice rang sharply as she descended the stairs. "Honey, you should be more careful." Her words trailed off the moment her gaze landed on her son. "Oh my god!"
Aria appeared right behind her, and her shriek cut through the air.
Willow, drawn by the commotion, stormed into the hall. "What is with this ruckus?"
Micah cursed under his breath. "Just wonderful."
All three women gaped at him in terror, eyes locked on his swollen face.
"Micah Ramsy! Explain yourself right now!" Elina snapped, clutching her head.
"How could you return like this, right after you made Mum nearly faint?" Aria’s voice trembled with fury.
Micah turned toward Emile. "Man, the rest is in your hands," he whispered, fearing they would skin him alive.
Emile didn’t hesitate. He clutched Micah’s arms tightly, lowering his head as though overwhelmed with guilt. His voice trembled, full of remorse. "I’m sorry, Aunty... This was all my fault."
That made the Ramsy family pause.
"What do you mean?" Willow asked cautiously, looking at the young man with narrowed eyes.
Emile swallowed hard, his lashes fluttering as he fought to keep tears from spilling. "After the party, some guys tried to get close to me... Micah stepped in, he protected me and ended up like this." Emile sniffed. "Aunty...Please don’t be harsh on him. He did it for me."
They couldn’t exactly snap at Micah after that dramatic, teary scene.
Jacob was the first to speak. "Come sit down."
"Thank you, uncle. You don’t know how scared I was. If not for Micah...," Emile choked. "Even my uncle wanted to come to offer his gratitude, but Micah dismissed it, saying he had not done that to get appreciation. Ah, truly a pure-hearted person...You should be really proud of having such an outstanding son."
That made everyone shut up. It was the first time someone was praising Micah in front of them.
"Are you fine now? That must have been so scary for you." Aria said, grabbing Emile’s arm.
Elina too softened, patting Emile’s hand gently as if to comfort him. "You poor thing...you have to be more careful next time."
Micah’s lips twitched as he watched his family surrounding Emile, trying to console him. Yet...Not a single one of them spared him a glance.
After a few minutes, Willow finally looked at him. "Have you been checked?"
"Yeah. At the hospital. Just some bruises. It will heal in a few weeks." Micah replied.
"You are such a disaster magnet." Willow sighed. "Well, rest for now. We’ll talk about the party another time."
Micah nodded. As bitter as it was to be totally discarded, he couldn’t deny that Emile’s performance had softened their severe reaction to him.
Micah slowly moved to the side, making himself blend into the background. He tugged the cap and mask back on, slipping quietly through the back door before anyone noticed.