Light of His Heart

The heavy oak door slams shut behind me as I enter the office, echoing in the silence of the room like a death knell. I move over to a chair in front of my father's desk, sitting down in the worn fabric as my fingers nervously grip the edge so tightly that the wood digs into my palms. He stands before me, just on the other side of the desk, his face pale and drawn, but the shame in his eyes is what makes my stomach ache.

"Maya," he says, keeping his voice low as it trembles with raw emotion. "I just want you to know that I had no choice in the matter. This is not what I wanted for you, but I couldn't get out of it."

The fire crackles in the nearby hearth, but its warmth never reaches me. I feel cold to the bond and shiver in response. It's the kind of chill that comes with uncertainty and I know deep down that whatever he is about to say is going to change my life.

"What are you talking about? What is against your will?" I ask, though I feel dread in my stomach.

His eyes don't meet mine. Instead, he paces around his side of the desk, the soles of his scuffed shoes making a noise against the old faded rug beneath us. The thing is probably older than me.

"There are some debts in the family, Maya, and they have grown beyond what I can manage. I have tried every other way to pay them off. I have done everything I know to do, but nothing works. The banks, businesses, and even going to your uncle for help have done nothing to stop the debts. No one will give me what we need to survive, but you can."

I blink in confusion, my mind scrambling to make sense of his words. Debts? What debts? He has never mentioned them before that I can remember. Sometimes he talks about money, but most of the time he brushes it off with a pained smile and assures me that things are fine. But now, I know the truth.

The talks of money are about a debt that he owes and now they are pressing down on both of us.

"How bad is it?" I ask in a whisper, hoping there is a way to turn this around. "How bad, father? What do you mean, I can do something about it?"

He stops pacing as he passes right behind me for the first time, and I turn, only to catch him slumping his shoulders. "It's bad enough that they are going to take the house and everything within it. We should be out on the streets by now, in all honesty."

"So, you fixed it or you have a plan they accepted?" I ask, my voice sounding more hopeful. "Right?"

My father's lips part as he sucks in a breath, but no words come out. Instead, his hands ball into fists at his sides. His gaze suddenly falls to the floor.

"Dad," I said, my voice tense with curiosity. "You fixed this, right?"

I swallow hard when he doesn't say anything.

The manor has been in our family for generations, along with the bookshop next door. It isn't much, but it has been ours and it's home.

Dad flinches, and at that moment, I know the answer is something I never want to hear.

"Someone made an offer," he says, his words barely a whisper. "A man offered to pay off our debts in exchange for you."

The last part is said so low that I don't quite make it out.

"In exchange for what?"

His gaze lifts and meets mine. The guilt reflected in them is enough to make me feel weak.

"In exchange for you," he says more clearly.