3:30pm

37: amendments

       <What you need me to do for you, baby? Just say 'n' it's done. I'mma go to the edge of the mountain to show you my love>

°•°•°•°

It took not less than ten minutes to calm Mikayla down; to reduce her silent weeping to mere sniffles.

It was a pitiful, heart-wrenching sight. One that not only surprised but also unnerved me, seeing her that way—crying into her cupped hands, not minding that she'd smeared her makeup. Not caring how she sounded or what she looked like.

Sitting beside her on the couch, I held her close, an arm wrapped around her quivering shoulders, muttering words I hoped would somehow help. And I guess it did, in some way, because eventually, some minutes later, she stopped crying.

Wiping away her tears, she sniffed. Licked her lips, blew a breath out and sniffed again. Then her jaw began trembling once more.

"Hey, hey," I whispered, placing my arms around her neck in a hug. "It's fine, Kayla. Everything's going to be alright, okay?"

When I felt her nod against my shoulder, I pulled back to look at her. She wiped away the fresh tears that'd gone down her face, her brown eyes puffy, the rims of them and her nose bearing a faint hue of pink. 

"I think I saw cocoa in the kitchen earlier," Stephen spoke up a while later, breaking the silence that followed after Mikayla had stopped crying. 

He stood up. "Cold cocoa, Kayla?"

With a small, brief smile, she gave Stephen a nod. At that, he left the living room for the kitchen. 

I watched Stephen go until he took a turn left into the kitchen, then slowly, I moved my gaze back to Mikayla. 

"What happened", is the first thing that comes to my mind to say. But, after a rethink, I didn't, instead I asked, "Are you okay?"

For a second, she said nothing before, looking down at her shoes, she shook her head.

"I'm not okay, Cleo," she sniffed.

"What happened?" I asked finally. 

"Gregory and I," she began, looking up at me then, "we had an argument on Friday, two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago?" I interrupted, surprised. Two weeks ago, their relationship seemed just fine. Hell, Mikayla seemed as she always did—happy and daydreaming. About Gregory, of course.

"Yeah," she muttered. "I can't remember what it was about. I mean, it was that trivial. But somehow, things escalated, and we ignored each other for two days. Until last week, when we began talking again. But things were still kinda awkward because none of us had apologized yet. And whenever we have a fight, there's always an apology. Either from him, or me, or it's a two way thingy. 

"The awkwardness dragged on for the whole week till I decided today that I'd be the one to apologize. And so I went out. To his place. To see him."

Her voice broke at her last word. As she opened her mouth to speak, I saw her jaw start to quiver. 

"I saw him with Marnie," she said in a whisper, eyes glazed over with tears. 

"Marnie?" I frowned. "What was Marnie doing at his place on a Saturday? What was she even doing at his place to begin with?"

Right then, Stephen walked into the living room, carrying a mug that said, in bold italics, You Rock, in his hand.

"I don't know. I don't know," she sniffed, burying her face in her hands once more. "I don't know what she was doing there. But I know what I saw."