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Petunia’s heart was a tangled knot, caught in indecision.
Petunia did her best to hide the truth from the Evanses.
But fire cannot be wrapped in paper, Mrs.
Evans caught wind of something.
“Petunia, when did you find yourself a boyfriend?
Why didn’t you tell me?” The discovery that her daughter might be pregnant sent a jolt through Mrs.
Evans, only for it to be swiftly swallowed by a surge of joy.
She knew her daughter was not a frivolous girl.
She had her own principles, her own limits, this could only mean she had found a boy she truly cared for.
Her daughter.
That little girl who once nestled in her arms and shared every secret.
Was she finally about to step through the doors of marriage?
The thought was nothing short of heartening.
What sort of person was this boy who was about to become her son-in-law?
Did he have a steady gaze and a warm smile?
Was he mature and dependable enough to take good care of her precious daughter?
“Mum, you’ve misunderstood.
I don’t have a boyfriend.” Petunia shook her head slightly, a flicker of awkwardness and guilt crossing her face.
“My dear child, your mother has been through life — how could I miss the signs?” Mrs.
Evans said with a teasing smile.
She assumed Petunia was simply being shy, too embarrassed to admit it.
Back and forth they went.
After some time, Petunia was cornered with nowhere left to retreat.
She had no choice but to admit the pregnancy, while staying vague and evasive on the matter of the father.
Throughout all of it, Petunia’s resistance stirred a creeping unease in Mrs.
Evans.
“This child you’re carrying — don’t tell me — don’t tell me it’s from some worthless man you got yourself tangled up with?!” Mrs.
Evans’s voice went sharp and grating.
Her face turned ashen, as though covered in frost, drained of every trace of color.
She looked as if she could already see some unbelievable, shameful truth laid bare before her.
“Good Lord, Petunia, you must not do something so disgraceful!” Her voice was full of anguish and despair, as if her heart had been torn to pieces.
“I haven’t done anything like that.” Petunia’s defense sounded hollow and feeble, a withered leaf trembling in an autumn wind.
“All right, I do hope you’re innocent.” Mrs.
Evans’s tone carried a note of impatience.
She grabbed Petunia firmly by the arm and pulled toward the door.
“Then take me to meet the child’s father.
Right now.” The pregnancy was already crushing enough.
But Mrs.
Evans was like a tireless wind, blowing ceaselessly in Petunia’s ear, and the emotions were inching toward a boiling point.
Petunia couldn’t hold back any longer.
Like a long-suppressed volcano finally erupting, the shout tore out: “Mum, do you want me married off that badly?
What exactly is wrong with me not rushing to find a husband?” Mrs.
Evans froze, then frowned.
“Marriage and children are the great matters of life.
How can you be so careless about it?
Don’t you hear what people are saying?!” “Care?
What I care about is your concern for me, not meaningless comments from other people!” Petunia’s eyes shimmered with tears.
“All you see is other people’s opinions.
You never once care about what I actually need.
You expect me to live according to what other people think, why don’t you go live with those people yourself!” “People love to whisper about Lily behind her back.
Those hushed words are like invisible blades, stabbing again and again at your sensitive heart.” “You resent Lily’s husband.
You take issue with Lily staying in the Wizarding World.
Go find Lily, then.
You want others to envy you, so you expect me to live by their standards!
On what grounds?!” “You!
How dare you speak to me like that!” Mrs.
Evans’s hands trembled, her face flushing deep red, eyes wide and round.
“Is it those friends of yours who’ve led you astray?” “Don’t drag my friends into this.
Haven’t you always demanded exactly this of me?
I’ve spent years doing everything your way.
Now I don’t want to listen anymore!” If Mr.
Evans had been home today, the atmosphere between them might have eased.
He might even have defused it before it broke open entirely.
But Mr.
Evans happened to be at work for a meeting.
Petunia knew full well that any conversation with Mrs.
Evans was destined to go nowhere.
Every approach had been tried with this stubborn woman.
Without exception, every attempt had ended in failure.
Mrs.
Evans’s way of thinking had long since taken deep root, an impregnable fortress that no effort could shake even the slightest bit.
Venting took everything out of her.
Petunia had no desire to keep quarreling.
Rising abruptly, Petunia shoved the door open.
A gust of cold wind hit square in the face, and there was an involuntary shudder.
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