How To Love Her

Chapter Thirty-Four

~~Emilia's POV~~
I glance over at Sophia, my heart soaring with an indescribable feeling. She was sleeping peacefully back in our penthouse, her chest rising up and down slowly.

The moment I saw her—hurt— but alive, was a relief filled moment. She had no idea what she meant to me. And to think, it has only been a year. A year since I saw her in that complex, and a year since she first uttered a word to me. I smile to myself, thinking of how nervous she was. She had no idea that it was truly me that had jitters. She had no idea that it was me that had almost fell over from wobbly knees. She had no idea what she did to me when I first saw her.

No, she wasn't wearing makeup, nor was she dressed up. She wasn't wearing scantily clad clothing, or wearing tons of jewelry. Most of the women I've been with weren't Hispanic, with brown eyes and brown hair and tanned skin. They weren't short, and thick. They were the complete opposite. But as soon as I saw her, something inside broke. She broke me in the most wonderful way. She broke me down, and built me back up within seconds. And all it took was just one look.

I yawn, stretching out my arms before getting up and throwing on a cotton black t-shirt. I had shit to do today, and I was going to make sure it was one of the best times that we had yet to come.

I walk over to Sophia's side, bending over and planting my lips over hers gently. I pull away too soon, brushing her hair behind her ears. I didn't want to leave her like this. I wanted to stay in bed, just listening to her soft breaths. Just waiting for her beautiful brown eyes to flutter open and light up once they glanced upon me.

"I love you, princess." I kiss her forehead once more, walking out quietly to not wake her.

~~Sophia's POV~~
I pick at my food, not having much of an appetite. The place was silent, without Lupia here. She fought for me until the end. She risked her life for mine, and I'd spend my whole life wanting to repay her. She had a proper funeral and burial a week or two ago, and I remembered the way her father broke down. His only daughter. He clutched at his chest, his heart breaking into pieces within the cage of his bones.

I couldn't bear the sight of him dropping on his knees in front of her casket, or the sound of his wails as they lowered her into the ground. After a few hours of crying, he sat there. Silent. He had lost everyone. His wife to cancer, and now his daughter to a gun.

She didn't have to go. She didn't have to leave us. She didn't have to be there, six feet under.

But she was. She was, for me. And for that, I am forever in her debt. Wherever she is, I will always remember her.

"You should eat, miss." Eric says quietly, walking to the other side of the table. His eyes are guarded;cold. But I knew there was a sadness lurking beneath. They all knew her, and they were all friends.

I shrug, smiling slightly "Did you eat?"

I watch as his expression drops and he shuffles, ears tinting red. There goes the mask. And here comes my answer.

"I didn't think so!"

Eric and I have been getting closer. He wasn't as vibrant as Silas was, but he was great to talk to. He'd sit there and listen, not once interrupting unless you needed him to. Unless you needed him to say something.

I had learned a few things about him too. He's 28, and single. Although, he has a daughter at the age of five and she just started school this year. If there's one thing he'd talk your head off about, it was her. It was how proud he was of her. I saw how his face lit up with the thought of his daughter, Azalea.