You Looked Down on Me Once, Now You Look Up. novel Chapter 300

“You’re hurt! And you—always fussing over Jackson and completely forgetting about Mr. Padilla. Jackson and I can keep you company for a while, but we’re not the ones meant to spend your whole life with you.”

Marian’s voice was gentle but there was no mistaking the warning underneath. “You’ve always been smart, Patricia. You know who really cares about you and who doesn’t. Every couple has their arguments, it’s normal. What’s not normal is when you start treating each other like strangers, being so polite that the love starts to wear away.”

“Mr. Padilla might be stubborn and a little old school, but he’s good to you. You need to appreciate that.”

They walked inside as Marian kept talking, patient as ever. “It doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong. Sometimes you just have to swallow your pride and give in a little. If you back down, Mr. Padilla will realize he’s messed up too. It’s fine to be tough with outsiders, but not with your own family.”

People always seem to get this backward—saving their worst moods for the people they love most, and acting polite with strangers.

“When he’s upset, you take a step back. When you’re upset, he should do the same. That’s how marriage works.”

“Pattie, don’t be so stubborn, alright?”

Patricia listened quietly, taking it all in. Marian had watched her grow up and knew exactly how to talk to her.

She didn’t say a word, just kept her head down as she walked up the steps.

Right before they headed into the living room, Patricia caught Sara peeking around the doorway, lips pressed together in a little pout.

She looked like a kid caught in the middle of her parents fighting, not sure where to hide.

“Aunt Patricia…”

Patricia gave a quiet hum. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“I’m scared.” Sara bit her lip. “Scared you and Uncle Oliver are going to fight.”

Patricia’s heart softened. She walked over and stroked Sara’s arm. “We’re fine. You and the boys should go get some sleep.”

“Just promise you won’t fight with Uncle Oliver, okay? If you have to, poison his food, but please don’t yell at him.”

Patricia blinked. “Alright, I promise.”

“If you really can’t win, just act cute or cry a little. Uncle Oliver always falls for that.”

In the living room, Johns was scrubbing blood off the floor while the doctor packed up his things to leave.

Patricia came in and almost bumped into the doctor, who gave her a confused look—like he couldn’t figure out if she was a guest or the lady of the house.

Oliver never took chances. He’d arranged for different doctors to treat her and himself, just to keep things quiet. Family doctors have caused enough trouble over the years.

Patricia shuffled across the room, awkward and unsure. Johns, always quick on the uptake, poured her a glass of water and handed it over, then waved everyone else away.

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