Make Love To Me 💚 Completed 💚

2. We Lost Our Past

My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

~Sohere comes the second chapter, and please, pay attention to the titles as they come.

~ Without no further ado, here is the chapter 2. But please, to all the people who already read this story, NO SPOILERS! For those who didn't, read REALLY CAREFULLY this chapter.

~ Oh and as a fair warning, there is a little jump in time.

Love, Mina 💚💚💚

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Chapter 2: We Lost Our Past, (4,1K)

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Clary's PoV.

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With a little sigh, I lazily rubbed my tummy, doing my best to ease my sudden craving. This whole thing is becoming very tiresome, and I can't wait for it to be over.

As I lay in bed, waiting for my husband to come back, my thoughts waywardly go back to the day I met Jace. I don't actually know why this particular day comes to mind, but lately, I haven't been acting myself. Like I've said, I can't wait for it to be over.

It's funny how I remember that day so clearly, and the fact that I now know those things about him, I feel kind of stupid for actually falling for his games. Not that I regret it or anything, just that I feel stupid.

Today, I received a letter from my father that put me in a very conflicted mood. I don't know what to do about it, if I should go visit him, or if I should just pretend like I didn't read it. My father has been institutionalised ten years ago because he lost his mind, and killed my mother. I have no idea of how it all went down, simply because they were a very beautiful couple, very much in love, from what my ten years old self could tell.

The only fact that remains clear is the fact that when I came home from school, a social worker was there to see me and was going to place me in the system. My father has never given a sign that he was alive ever since. No matter how many letters I sent him over the years. Eventually, I stopped, only sending him a card once in a while for his birthday, and waiting for him to eventually respond.

Now that he did, I don't know what to do. I want to go and see him. But I am scared of doing so.

Trying not to think about it, I sip on my coffee, reading the letter in my hands once more. I feel someone staring at me with insistence, so instinctively I look up, curious of who could that be. When I meet the gaze of the stranger, I see a guy talking with another man, deeply involved in his conversation.

Still, I am sure he was the one staring at me.

To be honest, I wouldn't be able to tell his age, nor even if he's good-looking or not. All I see is blond hair and a black suit. So I shrug, thinking that I was imagining things, still stubbornly wanting to get a glance of him, I peek in his direction from time to time as I start doodling on the envelop of the letter.

At some point, the other man leaves, and the blond guy does the same shortly after. But as he does so, he leaves his wallet on the table. I hesitate a little, before hurrying myself to take it, and rush after him, hoping that I will still be able to see his blond hair in the crowd.