Got it! I've adjusted the chapter so
The phone rang. Elara didn't need to check the number to know who was calling. The familiar digits flashed across the screen, a reminder of the man who had abandoned her and her mother years ago. Her father. She sighed before answering, bracing herself for the inevitable manipulation she knew was coming.
"Elara," his voice slid through the receiver with a smooth, practiced warmth, the kind that always made her skin crawl. "It's been a long time. I've been thinking... maybe it's time we tried to rebuild what we lost. I'm offering you an opportunity. Come home for a visit. You can see your stepmother, your half-siblings... Maybe we can start fresh."
Her grip tightened on the phone. She knew what he wanted. The relic. Always the relic.
"I'm not coming back," Elara said bluntly, her tone icy and unwavering. "Not for you. Not for anyone in that house."
There was a brief, stunned silence on the other end. Her father was silent for a moment longer than usual, and Elara imagined him clenching his jaw, trying to mask the fury rising within him. His voice was controlled, but there was an edge of frustration beneath it.
"Elara," he began, his voice softer now, almost coaxing, "This isn't about the past. I'm offering you a chance to be part of this family again. We can help you, you know. A chance to rebuild, to be someone. Don't let your pride stand in the way of something that could be good for you."
Elara's lip curled in a bitter smile. "I don't need anything from you. Certainly not your so-called 'help.' I know exactly what this is about. You're not offering me a chance to be part of your family. You're offering me a chance to give you what you've always wanted—the relic."
The silence on the other end deepened, and she could practically hear the gears in his mind shifting as he recalculated his approach. When he spoke again, his voice was colder, but there was a hint of threat.
"You're making a mistake, Elara. You don't understand the bigger picture. I'm giving you a way in—a way to leave all this behind. But if you're too proud to accept it…"
The words hung in the air like a thinly veiled warning.
"I don't need your favors," Elara interrupted, her voice firm. "I've made my own path. I'm not some pawn for you to manipulate anymore. I see through your lies. I'm not coming home."
Without waiting for his response, she hung up the phone, the finality of it ringing in her ears. She felt a pang of something—anger, perhaps, but more than that, it was the lingering taste of something she couldn't quite place. She had said no. It was over. Yet she knew that wouldn't be the last time he would try.
---
Her mother entered the kitchen shortly after, a soft smile on her face as she caught Elara staring at the phone, her hand still gripping the receiver. Elara didn't hide her feelings, knowing her mother would already have an inkling of what had happened.
"That was him, wasn't it?" Her mother's voice was steady, though there was a quiet understanding in her gaze. She had never pushed Elara to talk about her father, never asked questions about the past. But this… this was different. Elara had a feeling her mother knew exactly why that phone call stung.
Elara didn't reply immediately. She simply nodded, setting the phone down on the counter with a sigh.
"He thinks I'll come back. He's offering me some... opportunity to reconnect. But I'm not falling for it."
Her mother studied her for a long moment, her gaze unwavering. She didn't look angry, didn't seem surprised. Instead, there was a quiet strength in her eyes—a silent approval. "I'm proud of you," she said simply. "You know what he wants. And you're not giving it to him."
Elara met her mother's gaze, feeling a warmth bloom in her chest. Her mother had always been this way—quietly powerful, unwavering in her support, even when Elara didn't deserve it. There was no judgment in her mother's eyes, only understanding. She didn't need to explain anything.
"I won't let him have it," Elara said, her voice steady. "The relic is mine. And I'm not giving it to anyone. Not to him. Not to anyone."
Her mother nodded slowly. "You've got the strength of your father in you. But unlike him, you know how to use it."
Elara smiled faintly, her eyes flickering toward the window. "Maybe. But I'm nothing like him."
Her mother didn't respond, but there was a quiet pride in her smile. "You never were."
---
The next few days were spent in a strange sort of calm. Elara knew her father wouldn't give up. He would try again, and again, but she was ready. She had been ready for years. Her father's schemes didn't scare her anymore.
Instead of dwelling on his manipulations, Elara focused on something else—the one thing that had always drawn her in, the thing she had never been able to forget, no matter how much time had passed: perfumes.
In her previous life, Elara had been renowned for her skill in perfumery. Her fingers knew how to handle the oils, the scents, the delicate balances of nature's fragrances. It wasn't something she had forgotten, though she had hidden it all away until now. The art had been a secret she'd kept, and she had never shared it with anyone. Not even her mother.
But it was time. She could feel the call to return to the work that had once been so fulfilling. And so, with a quiet resolve, Elara began gathering everything she needed. She picked out flowers, herbs, resins, and oils—things she knew by heart, their combinations and effects deeply ingrained in her memory from her previous life.
For hours, Elara experimented, mixing and blending, recalling the delicate balance of fragrances that had once made her one of the best. Each layer added was a step closer to something beautiful, something that felt right, something that was hers. There was no research, no trial and error. This was instinct. Her hand moved with practiced ease, as though she had been doing this for years.
By the time she was finished, three small bottles sat on her desk, each containing a sample of what she'd created. The scents were raw, but they carried the potential of something extraordinary.
Her mother knocked softly before entering. She had been quiet all day, as if sensing Elara's shift in energy, but now she saw the bottles on the desk and the mess of herbs and oils scattered around the room.
"What are all these?" Her mother's voice was gentle but curious. Elara froze for a moment. She hadn't meant for her mother to find out, but there was no avoiding it now.
"I… I've been making perfume," Elara said, feeling a slight flush rise to her cheeks. "I've been working on it for a while."
Her mother blinked in surprise. "Perfume?" She stepped closer, looking down at the bottles, then back at Elara. "But how did you—?"
Elara smiled, though it wasn't the usual kind. This smile was a little softer, a little more vulnerable. "It's something I've known how to do for a long time. I learned in my... previous life. It's just... something I never shared."
Her mother took a step forward, her expression softening into something more akin to awe than surprise. "You've been making perfume all this time?" she asked, her voice a little quieter. "How did I never know?"
Elara shrugged, feeling a touch of unease in the pit of her stomach. "I never thought it was important. I was... focused on other things."
Her mother smiled warmly, reaching out to touch one of the bottles. "Elara, this is incredible. You've always had a gift for things like this. You've never stopped surprising me."
Elara felt a lump form in her throat, but she quickly swallowed it down. "I want to start a perfume brand. I've made the first few samples. Now I just need to figure out the next steps."
Her mother's smile widened, her pride and love for her daughter shining through. "I'm proud of you. I know it hasn't been easy, but I know you'll make it work."
Elara looked at the bottles, feeling a sense of calm that had eluded her for a long time. This was it. This was her future—one she could build on her own terms.
"I will," Elara said softly, more to herself than to her mother. "No one can stop me."
And this time, she meant it.