CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

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𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊: this is the edited version since I'm very unsatisfied with the first ending

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐏𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚


     Camilo drummed his fingers over the wooden table. Staring at the half-empty mug of coffee he ordered, he didn't notice that Lucia had already slid into the seat in front of him. "Okay, my shift's over." Lucia sighed, combing his hair with his hand.

    "So you asked for me?" While there is no animosity between the two men, it was rather strange that Camilo had shown up to his work in hopes to talk to him. "You know Y/N best," Camilo eased in, fidgeting with the handle of the mug. Lucia raised a brow at him before he continued, "What I'm trying to say is... I need your advice."

     Lucia leaned further against the backseat, "About what exactly?" Camilo bashfully smiled at him, "I want to confess to her but I don't know how." The kiss they shared was all he needed, it was the final push for him to make the next move. However, he didn't want to rush her and he wanted to prepare— to set the moment. 

     So he figured, why not ask Lucia? "Boy, I'm literally the worst person to get romance advice from." He could ask one of Lucia's exes for confirmation.

     "That is true," Camilo agreed to which Lucia shrugged, unoffended. "But maybe Y/N mentioned something to you? Like did she say what her dream romantic scenario or something?" He hadn't got a clue on how to approach this— he just wanted to give her the best of the best.

     Lucia examined his nervous expression; his cheeks were glowing red and he was shyly looking to the side. "You know, it doesn't have to be perfect." He firmly believed that one shouldn't focus that much on the way the confession was done as long as they were able to convey their feelings. "So stop dawdling and just go tell her already." Lucia grabbed Camilo's poncho before pushing him towards the exit.

     Practically kicked out of the cafe, Camilo huffed as he walked away. "Maybe he is right." He defeatedly muttered. Making his way back home, he decided to at least make an effort in his appearance. "I clean up nicely." He appraised his reflection before exiting his room. Sliding down the stairs, Isabela stopped in her tracks once she saw her cousin.

     "Camilo, have you seen Y/N lately?" She would be lying if she said that her friend's growing absence wasn't worrying her. "She stopped going to the garden and I couldn't really ask Dolores if she heard anything." You couldn't really bother a newlywed couple on their honeymoon, she supposed. Camilo furrowed his brows— he admits that it was a rather unlikely behavior for a girl who always kept herself busy.

     The teen gave her a firm nod, "Okay, I'll check up on her." It's not like he wasn't headed there in the first place.

     Y/N audibly groaned at the banging on her door. She was constantly stumbling on her foot before she twisted the doorknob to face the impatient look of her landlord. "This is the third time already, keep it down." He spat, pulling his chin inwards as he sneered at the alcoholic smell. 

     She merely tipped an empty bottle, sarcastically zipping her lips, "Yeah, consider my loud obnoxious sobbing gone!" Her tone raised a pitch at the end. "Oh wait, there's more! Wah wah wah!" She wailed, imitating a childish baby's cry. The landlord pinched the bridge of his nose; she was a nice girl and it was frustrating to see her throwing herself away like this.

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