Whispers of Passion | (18+)

28 | Romance In The City

DIANA
***

It'd already been past 9 pm when I stormed out of the apartment building after an argument with my mother about the man who was supposed to be my father.

I had no direction, yet, I continued walking. My anger and sadness kept me from the fear of the night despite Dante not being here with me.

The wind blew cold tears down my cheeks and blurred my vision while the faint sound of the argument lingered in my mind as I made my way through the dimly lit streets. My footsteps echoed, mixing with the distant sounds of the active borough of Brooklyn.

As I turned yet another corner, I spotted Dante and his cousins gathered on the stoop of my late uncle's apartment building, laughter filling the air as Dante appeared to be entertaining them by telling a story standing in front of them. However, once Dante's cousins caught sight of me their amused expressions and deafening laughter vanished.

One of his cousins pointed me out, and Dante turned around, his gaze immediately locked onto mine, and his eyebrowed knitted together.

Dante excused himself and made his way over to where I stood, "Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, his deep voice soft with concern.

I shook her head, my eyes brimming with unshed tears. "It's my mother," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "We had another argument about my father, and I just couldn't take it anymore."

"Come on," He insisted gently, "Let's go for a walk."

He put an arm around my waist as we began walking, bringing us together and saving me from the cold air of the night.

He looked over at me, his eyes soft with genuine sympathy that always had the power to make me pour out my heart, "What happened?"

As we walked, I found myself opening up to him in a way I never had before, sharing things about my father I never dared to speak aloud.

"I never knew him," I confessed, "I don't know what he looks like, how he sounds, what he's like, nothing." I tried to keep my words steady, but the ache in my heart threatened to break through.

"When I was younger, I'd see other girls with their fathers and I always thought how happy I'd be if my father was in my life, I thought they maybe if he saw me for who I truly was maybe he'd stay and be a father to me."

Dante listened in silence, his expression one of empathy and understanding. When I finally fell silent, he spoke softly, "Maybe it's for the best," He said, his voice calm and reassuring. "It's his loss he can't see how amazing of a daughter he could've had."

"And besides, I see how amazing you are; you're pretty, you're smart, you're funny. I mean I could go on for days."

His words brought a sense of comfort and validation, easing the burden of my unanswered questions. With Dante by my side, I felt a flash of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could find peace with not knowing my father.

A smile threatened to tug at the ends of my lips as I took in his thoughtful words, "You're right."

"You think I'm pretty?" I switched the mood of the conversation because I felt his words were making me feel an unexplainable mix of emotions.