When the sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of their small suburban home, the morning started like any other for Scorpio and her father, Capricorn. They had developed a close bond, one that had only deepened after the tragic death of her mother, Libra, in what Scorpio had always believed was a car accident. But as she grew older, Scorpio’s curiosity led her down a dark path she never anticipated.
The two had always been inseparable. Scorpio, now twenty-three, often found herself reminiscing about the countless afternoons spent with her father, tinkering with his collection of vintage cars. Their shared passion for mechanics provided a comforting distraction from their grief.
“Dad,” Scorpio said one morning, grease smeared on her cheek, “remember when Mom used to joke that we’d open a car repair shop someday? Just the three of us?”
Capricorn chuckled, his eyes softening at the memory. “She always did have a wild imagination. She would’ve called it ‘Claire’s Clunkers’ or something equally ridiculous.”
Scorpio laughed, wiping her hands on a rag. “Yeah, that sounds like her. She could always make us laugh.”
When the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of purple and gold, Scorpio and her father sat on their porch swing, reminiscing about better days. It had been three years since her mother’s tragic accident, and the bond between father and daughter had grown strong. Capricorn, with his graying hair and warm smile, was the only family Scorpio had left, and she cherished every moment with him.
“Remember when Mom tried to teach me how to bake a cake?” Scorpio chuckled, her green eyes twinkling with nostalgia. “We ended up with something that looked like a volcano had erupted in the kitchen.”
Capricorn laughed, a deep, hearty sound that seemed to chase away the shadows. “Oh yes, and we had to call it ‘Scorpio’s Lava Cake.’ She was so proud of your effort, though. She always said you had a special touch, even if it was more of a disaster touch back then.”
They both laughed, the kind of laugh that comes from shared memories and deep affection. Scorpio leaned her head on her father’s shoulder, feeling the comfort of his presence. Yet, as the laughter subsided, a thought lingered in her mind, one she hadn’t dared voice until now.
“Dad,” she began hesitantly, “do you ever think about… about that night? About what really happened?”
Capricorn stiffened, but quickly masked it with a sigh. “Honey, it was an accident. The police said it was an accident. There’s no point in dwelling on it.”
Scorpio nodded, though the gnawing doubt remained. She had always trusted her father’s words, but something about his tone tonight felt off, like an old wound trying to heal over a festering infection.
A week later, Scorpio was sorting through some old boxes in the attic, searching for an album her mother had kept. She found the album, but along with it, a dusty, leather-bound journal she had never seen before. Her mother’s handwriting adorned the first page: “To my dearest daughter, may you find joy in these memories.”
Flipping through the pages, Scorpio felt tears sting her eyes as she read about birthdays, vacations, and simple, everyday moments. Then, near the end, she found an entry that made her blood run cold: she found out about a strain in her parents’ marriage that she had never been aware of.
One evening, determined to address the unsettling feeling gnawing at her, Scorpio decided to confront her father. They were sitting on their favorite porch, the twilight casting long shadows across the yard.
“Dad,” she began hesitantly, “I found Mom’s journal.”
Capricorn’s smile faltered, a flicker of panic crossing his face before he regained his composure. “Oh? What did it say?”
“She wrote about arguments you two had. Things I don’t remember happening.” Scorpio’s voice wavered. “Was everything really as perfect as I thought?”
Capricorn took a deep breath, staring out into the darkening sky. “Sweetheart, your mother and I had our differences, but we loved each other deeply. Don’t let a few disagreements make you think otherwise.”
Scorpio nodded, but the growing unease lingered. She decided to investigate further, seeking out anyone who might have more insight into her parents’ relationship. It wasn’t long before she found herself talking to her mother’s best friend, Pisces.
“Darling,” Pisces said gently, “there were things your mother kept private. She was planning to leave him.”
The revelation hit Scorpio like a ton of bricks. “What? Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She was scared, sweetie. She didn’t want you caught in the middle.”
With a heavy heart, Scorpio returned home, the puzzle pieces slowly falling into place. That night, she dreamt of her mother, hearing her soft voice calling out a warning she couldn’t quite understand.
The next morning, Scorpio went back to the attic, determined to find more clues. She rifled through old boxes and found an envelope addressed to her. Inside were letters, detailing Libra’s fears and suspicions about Capricorn. The final letter was the most chilling: “If anything happens to me, it won’t be an accident.”
Scorpio’s heart pounded in her chest as she read the words over and over. The implication was clear: her father had orchestrated her mother’s death.
Feeling a mix of betrayal and anger, she confronted Capricorn that evening. “Dad, I know the truth. I know what you did to Mom.”
Capricorn looked at her, his face ashen. “Darling, you don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand,” she demanded, tears streaming down her face.
Capricorn sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Your mother was going to take you away from me. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“You killed her!” Scorpio’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with horror.
“It was an accident,” he insisted, though his eyes betrayed him. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.”
Scorpio shook her head, backing away. “I can’t believe you. How could you do this to us?”
The days that followed were tense and filled with silence. Scorpio moved out, staying with friends while she processed the revelation. The bond she once shared with her father was shattered, replaced by a gaping chasm of distrust and sorrow.
Months later, Scorpio stood by her mother’s grave, the wind whispering through the trees. She spoke to the stone marker, feeling a sense of closure. “I know the truth now, Mom. I’m so sorry it took me so long.”
Her father was arrested and taken to court to face justice. His trial was a media sensation, and he was ultimately convicted of manslaughter. Scorpio attended every session, her heart heavy but resolute. She needed to see justice for her mother.
After the trial, Scorpio visited her father in prison. She needed answers, closure.
“Why, Dad?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Capricorn looked older, defeated. “I was afraid, my love. Afraid of losing you. I thought I could fix everything.”
“You destroyed everything,” she said, standing to leave. “I loved you. Now I don’t even know who you are.”
As she walked away, she felt a sense of freedom. The truth had torn her world apart, but it also set her on a path to healing. Scorpio vowed to honor her mother’s memory by living a life filled with love and honesty, free from the shadows of deceit.
Years later, Scorpio opened a small repair shop, naming it “Claire’s Cars” in tribute to her mother. Every time she fixed a car, she felt a connection to her parents, honoring the good memories while acknowledging the painful truths. Through the tools and the grease, Scorpio found her way back to herself, embracing the light that her mother had always seen in her.