𝑶𝒂𝒌 𝑻𝒓𝒆𝒆 ✔️

IV. Mom

Year: 2014

Camila woke up due to the sun starting to shine through the window but she stayed on the couch because it was really five in the morning but the secondary colours seemed to have woken her up.

And if it was like a usual day she probably would have smiled at the skies that had a bunch of colours and she would probably get off the couch to go wake up her brother.

But that was the problem, she was on the couch with her ring off and not on the bed made for two with Harry.

And so instead she was on a couch at five in the morning instead of a bed made for two.

It was really a big mess.

She checked her phone to see five thirty six along with a bunch of texts and calls from the man she committed her life to but all things take a turn.

Harry didn't know where she was and he didn't once think she would be at her parents house after what had happened a few years ago.

But she was. She was on the couch at five thirty six in the morning with dried tears on her cheeks that replaced her usual toothy smile and wise words.

Her camera laid across from her on the floor as she went to open the window to take a quick picture of it, startled by the footsteps behind her.

"Papa," she spoke breathlessly as she put her hand to her heart. "You scared me."

And the man in front of her- her father looked up at his child because awhile ago he would see her with toothy smiles and wise words and now he was seeing her with puffy eyes and dried tears on her cheek.

And it was big mess.

"You know I wake up early," he responded quietly as others were sleeping. "Why didn't you go up to your old room to sleep?"

She shrugged as she looked back at the picture she took on her camera.

And she wanted to hug her dad and tell him everything that happened the previous night that wasn't filled with wise words and toothy smiles and dimples with bright green eyes.

Instead it was filled with red harsh words and hatred along with regrets and I'm sorry and the packing of bags and leaving.

It was just a big mess.

"Take all the time you need, alright?"

"Gracias."

Miguel- her father, kissed the top of her black curly hair as she welcomed it all the same with a heavy sigh and closed eyes.

"I'm going to go get my coffee from the shop around the corner," he told her. "Want some?"

She only shook her head as she looked at her bare hand that was supposed to have a ring on it. But their rings were so off and on when they had fights and the only thing they had to hold onto was art because they had art in their love and love in their art.

"Alright then."

"Papa," she called out for him and when she did he turned around to look at he. "Te amo."

"Te amo, Mila."

And so he closed the door and she was left alone in her thoughts and her dried stained tears were replaced by fresh ones because her hands were bare and all the harsh words replayed in her head and her phone wouldn't stop ringing.

She didn't want to fight with him but he hurt her and replaced her toothy smiles with tears and sadness and she felt worthless.

But the phone wouldn't stop ringing so maybe he cared, maybe she was worth something.