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T H I R T Y
.·:*¨ ¨*:·.

When one night I saw Teresa writing in what looked like a diary, I remembered I had one too.

Not that I still had it. Of course I didn't. It was in the hands of a boy named Aiden Carter... though he most likely threw it away.

I hoped, at least.

There had been a night when we were still together. I came home from buying groceries. He sat on the couch, the black book in his hands. He wasn't smiling.

Because after every unpleasant thing that happened, I wrote the whole situation down. It was relieving, somehow. I knew that maybe I got what I deserved, but it was still relieving to tell someone... which for me was just writing it.

Except when Aiden saw, he wasn't happy. He had screamed not to leave any hints of what he had done to me.

I didn't understand.

I told him that everything would be fine if someone saw. That they would only get upset with me, because it appeared I didn't obey my boyfriend enough. He only taught me how I should've behaved, so he wouldn't get into problems. That's what I told him.

He had called me a dumb attention-seeker.

After that, I never saw the diary again. He either threw it away or hid it somewhere.

For most people that never went through the same as me, it would be weird to understand how afraid I was to go into a relationship with Minho.

And yet he seemed different. Maybe he had different... rules. Maybe I was allowed to hang out with Thomas. Go somewhere on my own, wearing whatever I wanted to wear.

Maybe.

Now I sat in the lobby of our hotel in Berlin, both Thomas and Minho in front of me. Minho seemed to be teaching the brunette Spanish.

I wondered how many languages he knew. I probably underestimated how intelligent he actually was, according to his way of working and planning... how he knew multiple languages, could communicate with people easily.

God, he was so much more organized than me.

I admired them instead of reading the paper that was in my hands. Minho kept on shaking his head when Thomas attempted to say something. Thomas was definitely teasing him.

"You come and help!" Thomas made a movement for me to come closer, which I did, having to hide a big smile.

"Do you know a bit Spanish?" Minho wondered. Thomas scooted aside so we both sat across from Minho on their couch.

"Hola, soy Dora." I said, proud.

Minho rolled his eyes, but a smile was curving on his beautiful lips. "Como te llamas?"

"Soy Thomas!" The boy replied.

"Or...?" He hinted.

"Te llamas Thomas...?"

"No. Me. Me llamo Thomas." Minho corrected before his eyes fell on me. "Cuántos años tiene?"

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐏 ✩ Minho, TMR AUWhere stories live. Discover now