𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚

𝐕𝐈

𝚅𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚊,

Watching outside, as the snowfall, covers the ground. A thick white layer of snow blanketed the ground. Sighing, I turned up my air conditioner and zipped up the hoodie I have on. On days like these, I mostly stay in my room or go into the living room, and read, but with my parents here things have been distant.

My reflection stares back at me, as I stare at the girl before me. Her light eyes turned darker with bags under them, her curls in a mess, and her skin turn two shades paler if possible. She looked helpless and tired.

"Verena?", my mother called, softly knocking on my door. Sighing I exit my bathroom and open the door. I wasn't expecting her to be standing here, with a box in her hands and emotions on her beautiful brown face.

"Mother," I call out, ushering her in. Even if it's cold outside, the feeling swarm inside, not the coldness of the snow, the coldness of a heartless person.

"Why are you here?" I ask her as she sets the box on my desk. Moving my open laptop, and candles to one side. Pursing my lips, I calm myself, instead of bombarding her with questions. I just leave her to do her.

"Your room smells amazing," she said sniffing the room and humming. Her dark curls were tied into a messy bun with strands falling down her face. Her brown face was clean of makeup, and her clothes were swapped for sweats and an oversized hoodie.

"Here, I would leave you to know. That box is yours," she said giving me a small smile, walking closer to me her face with a soft smile, hazel eyes glinting with a bit of light.

"Your beautiful," she murmured raising her hand to touch me, instinctively I flinched. Closing my eyes, I heard her gasp softly, before feeling the softness of her palm, prying my eyes open, I saw her teary eyes. Her hand stayed on my cheek as she looks at me.

Although I crave this from her, it's too late. Seventeen years later, the feeling of her hands is foreign to me. Everything is foreign to me, all these emotions, everything. When I needed her the most she wasn't there.

"What do you want?" I question her, clearly not surprised at my tone. I know it pains her, seeing her eyes flash with guilt, she hung her head low. Taking her hands from my face, I let it drop, walking away, because I know if I stayed next to her, I would cry, and she isn't worth my tears. She may be my mother, my birth giver, but she is the reason why I am so, both her and my father. The way I am, the girl who craves love, who grew up in a household that lacks love and warmth.

"That's no way to speak to me." She replied, leveling me with a stare. Ah they she is, the woman who is cold and heartless.

"And what way is that?" I spat back, staring at her, leveling her eye contact. At least we both have something in common.

"The disrespectful way. That's no way a daughter should speak to their mother!", she yelled, throwing her hands up. Frustrated, I grunt at her.

"Then leave." I spat at her, glaring at her. Only for the door to my room to open revealing my father, who looked at me, with what I can is the most dangerous gaze.

His pale face, blue eyes, and sharp jawline. Everything about him, screams power and wealth, but his aura is dangerous. With a clenched jaw, and tight fists he looked between both of us, before shaking his head.

"Verena, what is going on here?" He asked me, and I was shocked. He just say my name. Well fuck..... he knows my name.

"Ask your wife", I reply dryly clearly amuse at the situation on my hand.

"Did you tell her?", he asked my mother as his eyes darted between us, and the box on my desk.

"No. I'm not stupid", she replies, laughing. Looking at my father he nods his head before his attention is placed on me, giving me one look up and down, before shaking his head.

"Take back the box Fiona." He demanded his aura changed as he looks at me. Something in his eyes passes.

What the hell is it, and these two with eye contact?

And most importantly what is it, that's in the box?

"Leave her with it", mother argued back, only to get a death glare before sighing defiantly. She took the box quietly, and exit my room, of them. She was leaving me there stunned and curious.

Something is wrong, and they are up to something. Now what the actual fuck.

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Taking my phone, I slide myself into Anxo's chart, and started typing, but quickly deleted the message. Sighing, today's activity was tiring, wheels started turning in my head, and my mental health increased due to all this.

The sun had already set and it was seven-thirty, even self the maids bring up my dinner for me, apologizing for bringing it up, I waved them off, not even bothering to care why.

Tired, I roll off my bed and open the dinner that was covered in foil. Smelling a faint scent of lasagna, I hummed, ripped off the foil, and started eating with the fork placed next to it.

▪︎

Happy new year, 💛