𝔟𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔱 | billie eilish

0.1

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 | 𝟑𝟗 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐥𝐝
𝐅𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟗, 𝟐𝟎𝟒𝟏 - 𝐒𝐚𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨, 𝐂𝐀

Humming the melody of one of Maya's favorite songs, which happens to be playing on the radio right now, I set two candles on the piece of apple pie on a plate in front of me alight.

It's Sierra's birthday, and thirteen years ago today, neither of us had anticipated that this day would be the beginning of an early end, eventually culminating in untimely death.

I sigh and run my fingers through my blonde hair, which cascades down my back. Years have gone by since I grew out my wispy bangs and last went to get my nails done professionally.

But time has not only changed my outward appearance, it also influenced my job enormously.

After I had completed my Happier Than Ever Tour, I retired from making music to focus on my intimate, confidential relationship.

From the very beginning on, I purposely secluded Maya from the public in order to shelter her from the cruelty of the world wide web and the awfulness of others' hate–their innermost jealousy.

However, paparazzi, who, without the permission received to do such, hounded and photographed us, broadcast our happiness to the world.

Their stalking disrupted our daily routine so greatly that, at times, we couldn't return home without our front door being obstructed by people working for the news media.

Eventually, we came to the conclusion of decamping to a more unfrequented neighborhood in the upper level class of Los Angeles. We purchased a $1.2M mansion in Beverly Hills, to be exact.

My sophomore album Happier Than Ever, which broke global records, enabled the both of us the chance to pay the sum of money for a stylish, costly home with sky-high ceilings.

My personal life hasn't been the journalism's target ever since. Maya's hadn't been theirs either, fortunately.

I haven't wasted a thought on moving to another state or else since Sierra was born, I am yet overly attached to objects that once were owned by my wife. And most importantly, I cannot let go of the bittersweet memories.

Taking soundless footsteps, I approach my daughter's bedroom door, on which I knock thrice to find out whether she's already arisen or is still sound asleep.

Since I don't receive a verbal response, I quietly step into her bedchamber, and prior to arousing her from her deep slumber, I open the blinds to allow brilliant sunlight to pass through the room.

"Good morning, Kira," I coo and caress her head of auburn Fulani braids.

A few seconds elapse in total silence until she stretches her arms and yawns. But once her heavy eyes sweep over me, my words appear to ignite prompt happiness in her.

"Happy birthday to you," I sing softly, smiling faintly.

"Mama," she groans groggily and covers her countenance with her palms, keeping the broad grin tugging at her lips hidden.

"My daughter is a real teenager. Am I embarrassing now?" I chuckle and give her
upper arm a gentle nudge.

"No," she whispers once she exposed her visage of cheerfulness and sat up, causing me to laugh a little harder.

"Maybe you wanna make a wish before your apple pie is covered in wax," I advise her to follow my words and hand her the plate.

She hesitates, a tad of sadness seemingly kindling within her.

Apparently, blowing out the candles evokes a sentimental reaction, as her honey brown eyes become somewhat teary.

"It won't come true if I say it out loud, right?" she asks in hushed tones while eyeing me.

I shake my head before inquiring of her well-being, worried that she's experiencing the same uttermost levels of despair and mental pain I had to encounter during most of my teenage years.

Her contentment is of paramount importance.

"I'm okay, really. I didn't make a wish for myself," she admits diffidently. "I made one for you."

Without uttering a word, I give her a tender hug, which I know she loves.

"Come on, let's get ready so that we can start our little road trip to San Diego a tad earlier," I suggest and Sierra agrees immediately.

Accordingly, we don't waste another minute and soon manage to get all the things done that need to be completed beforehand.

Once we both donned fresh clothes and brushed our teeth, we head downstairs to have a light first meal of the day.

"How did you and Mom even fall in love?" Sierra unexpectedly asks as we're seated across from each other; the sun enlightening the artistic drawings on the wall.

"Oh gosh, do you really wanna know that?" I chuckle and raise my eyebrows a little, aware of the fact that I'll have to leave out many memorable moments due to sexually explicit reasons.

"Yeah, tell me everything." Sierra grins after she took a bite of her saccharine breakfast.

"Alright.. We first met in 2022, on January 17th to be exact, in a bar in LA after the lockdown had ended..,"

I begin revealing the story of how Maya and I became smitten with each other.

–May 26, 2021

the structure of this book is a little confusing but it'll make sense once it's completed.