The Gangster and His Beauty - Gangsters in Love Series

26

I gaze out of the car window, the passing scenery blurs into a mosaic of colors and shapes, much like the thoughts swirling in my head. It's as if each passing moment carries a multitude of emotions, memories, and expectations, all converging into a cacophony of whispers that echo within me.

Lost in my reverie, I'm startled by Kingsley's voice, jolting me back to the present. "Ms. Mintz, we are here," he announces from the driver's seat, breaking through the haze of my thoughts.

I blink in surprise, momentarily disoriented. How did I not realize we had arrived at my parents' home? The familiar surroundings outside the car window gradually register, and I realize the significance of this place—the place where I grew up, where countless memories were etched into the very fabric of my being.

Taking a deep breath, I open the car door, my feet touching the pavement. The crispness of the air fills my lungs, mingling with the nostalgic scent of the neighborhood. A mix of emotions washes over me—excitement, apprehension, and a touch of vulnerability.

As I step out, my eyes trace the path to the front door, the door that holds the key to my past. Memories flood my mind—laughter and tears, moments of joy and moments of strife. It's a tapestry woven with the threads of love and family, a tapestry that shaped who I am today.

"I will be here to pick you up in a few days."

"Thank you."

"Anything for my favorite person."

The door stands before me, its sturdy presence evoking a sense of comfort and familiarity. I reach out, my hand trembling with a mix of anticipation and nervousness. I press the doorbell, its sound piercing the silence, and wait.

Seconds stretch into eternity, and then the door swings open, revealing my parents, their faces a mixture of surprise and delight. Their warmth envelopes me, wrapping me in a comforting embrace.

A surge of emotions swells within me, mixing excitement, relief, and a touch of apprehension. My heart skips a beat as my parents and I lock eyes, and in that shared gaze, a silent understanding passes between us. We don't need words to convey the depths of our love and longing.

Without hesitation, we rush forward, our arms stretching out towards each other, and we find ourselves locked in a tearful embrace. The weight of our separation melts away as we hold onto each other tightly, cherishing the warmth and familiarity of this long-awaited reunion.

"It's really you," my mom whispers, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy. Her words ripple through my heart, reminding me of the void that has haunted our lives in my absence.

Tears stream down my face, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand, a bittersweet smile gracing my lips. "Mom, dad, what's up?" I manage to utter, my voice thick with emotion.

My dad, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, chuckles softly and reaches out to ruffle my hair. "We should be asking you the same, little Lei," he says, his voice laced with a mixture of relief and curiosity. It's as if time stood still, and we're once again the same carefree family that laughed and shared stories under this very roof.

With a deep breath, I find my voice again, wanting to bridge the gap of our shared experiences. "A lot has happened," I say, the weight of my journey hinting at the edges of my words.

My parents exchange a look, a silent conversation that speaks volumes. They understand that there are stories untold, wounds that need time to heal, and questions that may never have satisfactory answers. But in this moment, their overwhelming love and acceptance override any need for explanations.

My mom breaks the silence, her voice warm and inviting. "Well, come in," she says, her eyes lingering on the world outside the door before she gestures for me to step into the house.

I follow her lead, crossing the threshold of familiarity and into the embrace of the home that holds a lifetime of memories. The air inside is infused with a sense of comfort, the lingering scents of home-cooked meals and shared laughter.

As we step further into the house, the walls seem to reverberate with the past in my parents home.

I sink into the comfort of the chair, my body finally finding respite after the long and tumultuous journey. My parents settle nearby, their eyes fixed on me, their expressions a mixture of concern, curiosity, and an underlying need for understanding. I brace myself for the inevitable questions that hang heavy in the air.

But before the silence stretches any further, my mom breaks it, her voice filled with a blend of anticipation and worry. "Is it true that the man who shot your uncle was the one who took you?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

I nod, my gaze meeting hers. "Yes," I confirm, my voice steady but laced with the weight of the truth. The memories of those dark days come flooding back, threatening to engulf me once more.

"How did you manage to get out?" my mom continues, her eyes searching mine, seeking the pieces of the puzzle that will complete the picture.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself to relive the moments I would rather forget. "It took a whole lot of gaining his trust," I explain, my words punctuated by the weight of the ordeal. Each step towards freedom had been calculated, each interaction a delicate dance of survival.

My dad's frustration boils over, and he pounds his hand against the armchair. "I knew letting you keep an eye on your uncle was the worst thing to come to us," he exclaims, his voice tinged with regret and anger. "Everywhere he goes, he brings chaos."

The words hang in the air, heavy with disappointment and a sense of misplaced blame. I understand their anguish, their desire to shield me from harm, but in that moment, I know I must speak my truth, defend the innocence of my uncle.

"Uncle Bobby was innocent," I say firmly, my voice quivering with conviction. "He was wrongly accused, and his life was taken by an unjust hand."

"Innocent?" my dad repeats, disbelief etching lines on his face. His gaze then shifts to my mom, a silent plea for support, for answers.

Mom leans forward, her eyes brimming with a mixture of empathy and understanding. "There are some things we need to tell you about Uncle Bobby."

Her words garner my attention.

Mom looks at dad as if she is asking permission to tell the unspeakable. Mom takes a deep breath. "Your uncle has always found himself mixed up with bad groups. First it was the Bloods, then the Crips, then the A group called Twilight and the other called Dragons."

"That man was all over the place."

"Wait, but Uncle Bobby was part of the Twilight gang. The leader told me..."

"Ugh, that man was hopping from place to place. As long as it pays him well that's all he cares about," dad says.

"I don't understand." I shake my head.

"Don't bother trying to understand that foo. His karma got to him the moment he got involved with all that mess, and your mom and I made a mistake letting him watch over you instead of just..." he pauses. He then sighs, "We are glad we are okay."

"If you are talking about my dreams of being a boutique owner, well good news my store is gone. Everything."

"We are sorry, Leilani, for not believing in you and your dreams. We just wanted better for you at the time, but we realize you are our baby that we are so used to telling you what to do."

"It's fine. The damage has already been done."

"You are at least alright?" Mom asks, "I mean it's been a long time since all of this happening."

"I'm fine, just a lot to unpack here." I let out an awkward smile.

"Are you..." dad sounds. "Going back?"

I shake my head. "I first have to tame the beast first."

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no authors note today love (it's a scheduled post)