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𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝟏𝟏𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟗 || 𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚
‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵
My vision fell into a fog.
Blood coursed through my veins at a speed that I didn't know existed and my body remained in its standing position as Michael's mouth moved. It was as if my life had begun playing in slow motion all while my eardrums conformed to white nose. My entire being felt like it had been set aflame.
I couldn't form words to speak and even if I did, what could I possibly say in this moment? The regret pooling in my fiancé's eyes forced my retreat from anger. Seeing him upset was even more worrisome than the mention of that woman.
"Where?" I mumbled under my breath. Part of me wanted to have knowledge of her whereabouts so that she'd be easier to avoid. The other part of me harbored a great curiosity- for my father's sake.
"At a local flower shop on Sunset and Vine-- baby, we don't have to--"
"No," I shook my head as I took small steps toward him. "We can talk about it. There's nothing that I can't talk about with you baby."
"Okay," Michael reluctantly responded as he placed a lingering peck onto my forehead. "Let's talk about it then.
One thing that I noticed about my relationship with Michael is that it was the most purifying; I had never been so level-headed when speaking about something that angered me. But with him, everything came easy. He informed me that my mother seemed to be in good health and was well dressed, a contrast to what I had witnessed fourteen years ago. My fiancé even told me that the woman remembered my favorite orchid-- Cattleya, which I found to be the most bittersweet thing out of our whole conversation.
I was told the mention of my father never came about although I desperately wanted it to. I wanted to know if she carried on the burdens of her mistakes solely because of her inhumane nature as she watched my father's life parish before her eyes. But then, it all hit me at once.
None of it truly matters, my father is still gone.
No explanation could justify her actions nor would it bring my father back from the resting place he had been sent to for eternity. Even if it were possible, my feelings for the woman who calls me her daughter would remain at a great distaste.
"She doesn't deserve to live well," I sighed while resting my head on his chest.
"Baby," Michael looked down at me while scrunching his beautifully arched brows.
