She's an innocent girl who lived with her alcoholic abusive father. Her life was barley manageable, especially when she was separated from her biological family at such a young age.
When her father mysteriously dies from a car crash, she's taken to...
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AZALEA'S POV:
IT'S BEEN a week.
It's been a week of me giving half-hearted smiles to them, avoiding conversations as much as possible, just trying to keep my objective simple and straight-forward.
And everyday I just silently pray that the DNA test comes that day.
I lean my back against a wall near the glass sliding door. A gentle breeze whirls around me, caressing my redden cheeks and blowing my brunette hair back softly.
My eyes follow the soaring, white birds in Italy's clear skies
Cerulean gradients to a light shade of marigold, a big, bright ball in the middle. Sunrise, early mornings, Italy.
Absolutely admirable, gorgeous.
I lower my head and look at the phone that sits in my hands. My finger hovers above a phone icon.
I had been debating whether or not I should call Vincent. Whenever something was wrong, he wad the first person I would go to.
I haven't called him in more than a month. We usually interacted at least once every two weeks back in London.
I greedily inhale a big chunk of air.
Then, I click the button.
The loud ringtone echoes in my head, fear slowly creeps up my spine.
The few seconds that it rings are long and dreadful. A beep sounds out next.
"Azalea?" His tone is not at all filled with annoyance or anger. Instead, it's happy and excited.
Nothing comes from my line for a moment. "Yeah, hi Vincent."
A small smile forms on my face as familiarity washes over me.
"Azalea! How have you been, what's up?"
I'm having a mid-life crisis.
―is what I wanted to say. But, a simple lie seems like a.. better option.
"I've been doing good, what about you?"
"That's great to hear! I've been alright too, but why'd you call me?" He asks. "As much as it hurts to say," His voice is drenched in fake hurt. "you'd never take precious time out of your precious day to call me."
I don't fight ―back the urge to roll my eyes.
"You're right, can I.. seek your opinion on something?"
"Of course, whatcha need?" I can practically see his grin.
I tense.. then begin my rant.
"Well, since 3 months ago.. when my biological brothers found me, I was kind of forced to accept they're my brothers. I was never really given any proof, and so yesterday― I feel really shitty about it but I asked for a DNA test. It's probably going to come out positive and I'll look so stupid and they'll probably hate me―"
