Him or his Best Friend

𝐂𝐡. 𝟒𝟐 | 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫

Chase

With the help of physical therapy, Liya attained the medical attention she needed. I had changed the doctor to a female one too, so she'd be comfortable.

She could on her own perform her activities. Even leave the room and roam around the house without anxiety. Though the entrance gave her anxiety.

She only ever left the house with me to visit Luka's grave which was every second or third day. I have been working from home too since then. She panicked when I wasn't home.

I had Mira come to stay as the worker like she did back in Luka's house. Liya was comfortable with her too. Just yesterday I had gotten Mira to bring over Liya's things from Luka's house.

Liya was always using my clothing and accessories. I didn't mind. In fact, I absolutely adored her in my clothes.

"Minnie. Come here, baby," I hissed calling her over to her food pot.

She and Sage got along very well. Liya absolutely adored Minnie. More than Sage and that would often cause a bit of conflict.

Sage had fallen in love with Liya the moment he had climbed up in bed with us and she named him. But holding Minnie in her arms for her was like holding Luka's child.

Even if I wanted to, I could take that away from her. After feeding both the cats, I headed back upstairs to see if Liya was awake. The bathroom door seemed open and I entered into it.

She stood in front of the mirror, staring at herself. The way she did before. She looked at herself like she was something filthy.

I stood behind her and watched her reflection in the mirror too. Just from a different perspective. A perspective so beautiful and true.

I watch her swallow a huge gulp of pain down her throat and hold back tears as she goes through a deep thought of something disturbing.

"I have a new bedtime story for you," I uttered, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"It's early morning though," she spoke dully.

"I have an early morning story," I changed my words to suit her.

Grabbing the hairbrush, I slowly ran it through her soft brown loose curls.

"The first time you got drunk," I started off, starting to collect her hair in my hair to put it into a ponytail.

"I approached you as Strawberry and you asked me why I call you by that fruit," I continued, tying the hair tie high up on her head.

Her body turned against the sink and she was facing me now. Interested in what I had to say.

"Ask me again?" I instructed, looking into her green, dull eyes.

"Why do you call me Strawberry?" she speaks after a pause.

I took the crystal strawberry necklace I had gifted her for her birthday, out of my pocket and held it between us. Her eyes travelled to look at it in adoration. Turning her body, for her to face her reflection, I took the necklace over her face and around her neck.

"In the Victorian love language of flowers, Strawberry represents perfection," I revealed to which her eyes slowly winced.

"Perfection in its shape and entirety of existence," I elaborated, which brought slight tears to her eyes.

"What you're looking at right now, is nothing less than perfection. The first woman I have stumbled across, who is perfect in every way any human could possibly be," I mesmerisingly spoke out.