Sorry Daddy, I'm Not Spare Parts for Her! - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

Nathan had turned mooching into an art form.
Using my connection to Ethan as his niece, he claimed some bizarre uncle-by-proxy responsibility to "look after me." The guy had been camped out in my studio for days, long after my sprained ankle healed. I'll give him this - for someone who acted like a human tornado, the man could cook like a Michelin chef.
Then some blabbermouth had to go tell Ethan about my injury.
The moment Ethan walked in carrying a takeout bag, he was greeted by the domestic horror show of Nathan in my frilly pink apron, me sprawled across the dining table watching documentaries for inspiration. We looked like some hipster couple from a home goods catalog.
I heard Ethan's molars grinding from across the room, but somehow he kept his cool.
"What are you doing here?" His voice could've flash-frozen the entire kitchen.
Nathan popped a piece of crispy pork into my mouth without breaking eye contact. "What's it to you?"
Ethan's face went sheet-white. I swear I saw actual sparks flying when I casually accepted the food, washing it down with mango juice Nathan handed me. I gave Ethan the same look I'd give a stranger licking my window.
"Pretty sure this counts as breaking and entering, Ethan Foster. Want me to call the cops?"
Ethan looked rough - stubble shadowing his jaw, his usually pristine appearance fraying at the edges.
"Ava, everything I said before... none of it was real. Give me another chance." His voice cracked in ways I'd never heard.
Too little, too late.
"You keep weaponizing my trust, Ethan. If our positions were reversed, what would you do?" I didn't wait for an answer. "We both know you'd hold that grudge forever. Maybe try some basic empathy before stalking me like some lovesick puppy."
Nathan's arm shot out like a toll barrier when Ethan tried to step closer. "She's done. Take the hint and get lost."
Watching the mighty Ethan Foster get schooled in humility should've felt better. Instead, I just kept sketching while Nathan returned to cooking, leaving Ethan stranded in the wreckage of his own making.
The doorbell rang again after he left. This time, it was Luna.
Moonlight caught in her hair as she stood there in a simple white dress - no trace of the fragile girl from the comic world. This Luna glowed with health.
"I had to see you before my flight," she said. "To thank you properly - for saving me, for helping me find my way back. In any world, you're..." Her voice caught. "You're exactly the kind of person I want to become."
Her bow was so deep I almost protested. Then she was gone, leaving me staring at the empty doorway.
Sleep never came that night.
Ethan knew about the comic world. Luna knew. So... did Nathan?
To Ethan, that alternate reality was just fiction - a guilt-free playground where he could rewrite his failures with Luna. But what about me? Had I just been collateral damage in his redemption arc?
The stars burned brighter as the night deepened. Eventually, exhaustion pulled me under.
In the dream, my future self lay dying in a prison infirmary, clawing at the sheets. Not like this. Not after everything.
I saw myself hunt down Ethan one last time, shredding the sketchbook that held a decade of love right in front of him. My prayer wasn't elegant - just a raw scream into the void for one damn do-over.
That future version of me became the comic world's puppet master, whispering lies to Ethan: "You control life and death here." Predictably, he failed the test. Some things never change.
But I'd seen Luna at the orphanage, how the kids flocked to her. However selfish my motives, I'd wanted her story to continue.
Only you can save yourself.
My future ghost stood watching as present-me slept, one hand hovering over the sketchbook.
"Ava," she whispered as a breeze turned the pages. "It's your road now."
The last traces of bitterness dissolved like sugar in tea.