Not So Deserving

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Song: I Don't Want to Know by Sigrid 

Alexander: 

After Willa's house, I headed towards her parent's house, a few boxes of her things in my car. I kept thinking about the whole thing. About the whole baby thing. Jessica did tell me a bit about how Willa dealt with the pregnancy after since they did move in together after the miscarriage. She did tell me a bit about how Willa would take care of everyone and how she had done a lot to get over the whole baby thing. It was interesting getting to know Willa more and how her life was after everything that happened. Willa dealt with everything all almost on her own. I just can't believe that she didn't give up after the baby. She still was able to still find a job and go to her job. She was still able to get up and keep doing everything even after everything she went through. And I know it is my fault that she went through what she went through. 

Getting to Willa's parent's house, I saw that their car is already there and the lights on in the house. I parked and started to get everything out of the car that I could carry. I could hear a bit of talking through the front door as I knocked on it. The outside of the house looked very nice and very...homey. It's white with flower bushes in the front of the yard, the grass cut and the trees in the front also very beautiful. I can imagine Willa living here and enjoying being around her family in this type of environment compared to the city and the apartment she lives in. It's different. The door opened, Willa's mom standing there. 

"Alexander. Hi. Come in. Willa and her dad are in the living room. Do you need help with the boxes?" She asks. I shake my head, taking a look at the inside of the house, everything being so bright and so neat. It all looks very beautiful. It's different from my decor at my house where everything is very modern yet this place is modern but still old school. "No. It's fine. Where can I put these for now?" I ask her. Willa's mom just told me to put them beside the door for now and then Willa and her parents will help her unpack. I nodded and then walked to the living room, looking at the walls and decor of the house, seeing a lot of photos of Willa and her family. 

Walking into the living room, I saw Willa and her dad sitting next to each other with a photo album between them. Willa was smiling as she looked down at the photos in front of her. Willa's dad looked up at me and then got up. "Alexander, you're here. Did you manage to get everything Willa is gonna need?" He asks. I nod, looking at Willa who finally looked at me. "There's just a few more boxes in my car which I am going to finish getting," I said. 

"Are you going to need help with that?" He asks. I shake my head. "Nah. It's all good. Nothing I can't handle. But thanks." He nods, sitting back down. I went back to my car to get the rest of the boxes, putting them next to the door. Looking back at Willa, I saw that she was just flipping through the photos on her own now, her dad now in the kitchen with her mom. 

"How are you doing?" I ask as I walk slowly into the living room. She glances at me and shrugs. "I'm fine." She says. I nod. "I can remember when all these photos were taken. I can remember these moments and these memories. But I can't remember what happened to me all those years. I can't remember what happened to me. I don't want it to be like this forever." She says. 

Looking at her, I can see the struggle she is going through and the pain and the frustration. I frown, having the need to take her hand and tell her that everything will be okay but I know I can't. I don't know if she wants me to. And I don't want to scare her off either. And so I don't. "I'm sorry, Willa. I am sorry that you are going through this. I know it's hard but you just have to believe that it won't be like this forever. Things will get better." She looks at me, her head nodding slowly. She gets up and then heads upstairs. I get up and walk into the kitchen. Her parents were cooking dinner and I knew that I couldn't stay any longer and cut into their personal time. 

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