Camilla's POV
In the middle of chaos, uncertain light did come. After everything that happened, part of me still wondered why I trusted a guy as mysterious as him.
Alejandro was rich and powerful. Like Marcus did, he was capable of doing the same or maybe worse things now that I was even more vulnerable.
But then, what could I do when he touched the most delicate parts of my heart? It's like he knew it before he knew me.
A reason behind bringing a puzzle box was to keep me busy throughout the whole day, maybe. But it was also because it was me. My life was unstructured like this puzzle box.
If he didn't think like that, then I believe it was an act of God or any powerful force that fancied me. The only difference between this puzzle box and me was the feeling that my life was filled with darker colors.
As we sat side by side, the puzzle box between us, Alejandro's hands skillfully sorted the colorful pieces. Each snap and click brought a sense of progress, the unity in colors slowly forming.
I focused on the task at hand, the concentration needed for the puzzle offering a welcome distraction from the swirling thoughts in my mind.
As we worked together, his voice, soft and steady, began to fill the air. His words carried a depth of emotion, drawing me into his narrative.
"Life wasn't easy," he said, his fingers expertly fitting pieces together. "I grew up in the slums, where getting enough to eat was a daily challenge."
I glanced at him, seeing a different side of the confident man I had come to know. "I can't imagine what that must have been like," I admitted, my empathy for him growing with each word he spoke.
For a man of his qualities, it was hard to believe he would talk to me about the fragility that he experienced, maybe one of the things that shaped the person he is today.
He nodded, his gaze momentarily distant. "It was tough. But things changed when I met someone unexpected."
His eyes focused on the puzzle box, his smile expressed the feeling he got as he remembered his past.
"Believe it or not, a bunch of us kids used to do that," he chuckled, in his voice voice hinted a sentimental feeling.
"There was this one time when someone caught me trying to steal his wallet," He recounted. "But instead of getting angry, he talked to me." He looked surprised. It was as if he still couldn't believe the man would help him.
I leaned closer, absorbed in his story. "What did he say?"
He smiled with a thoughtful expression on his face. "He told me that he saw something in me, something beyond the act of stealing. And then he did something that I'll never forget."
He looked at me "He gave me a school uniform," he said, his voice tinged with gratitude. "It was a gesture that changed my life."
He sighed, his eyes changing from expressing happiness to something I would call sad. He continued,
"Then I entered a world I had never known – a private school where kids wore uniforms and even smelled good. The concept of perfume had been foreign to me,"
He shrugged, his green eyes glittering with more sadness as he continued, "I mean Poverty had even robbed me and the other kids from the slums of the basic luxury of soap. So my bad odor had driven other kids away."
He sobbed, "Imagine kids running away from me because I smelled bad," he said. I listened without interrupting him. He seemed as if he had been longing to tell someone about him.
Maybe it was something that had tortured him much because now he was completely different from a rich man who just won an award several days ago. He was vulnerable. He expressed the kind of pain was enough to drive a person to want to be more than just a normal guy.
"When the man asked me again what I wanted, I told him I wanted soap." He chuckled.
A smile tugged at my lips as I listened, "So he gave you money for soap?"
His smile was brief, tinged with a hint of flowing old memories. "Yes, he did. And that's when I realized I could turn things around. As they say, every puzzle piece finds its place eventually,"
He continued to place puzzle pieces, his hands moving with practiced ease. He motioned my hands to move them to their rightful place. A comfortable silence conquered the moment until We finally finished the arrangement.
"There," He said as he took it and looked at all sides. Perfect white, red, yellow, and blue sides. He looked at me and handed the puzzle to me.
Come to think of it, who would have imagined that someone like him had such a history? Life was full of surprises. Just when I thought my life with my mother was difficult, I never went to bed hungry. I had my bedroom, even though it was small, it was still mine, and I was always clean.
I never imagined someone could be able to live in slums, their bodies covered with dark layers almost all the time, and still manage to be happy.
"Our lives are like puzzles," he said, his gaze meeting mine. "Sometimes the pieces fit perfectly, and other times, we need someone else's help to complete the picture."
I nodded, a smile tugging at my lips. Deep down I couldn't help but think of these puzzles even more. My poor life. What if no one was capable of matching the boxes and it turned into unbearable torture? My shoulder tightened at his touch.
"Life can always be better. You just have to search for the right person to help you match the puzzles. You don't always have to be alone in everything and it's okay from time to time to call for help." He paused.
"It's okay to allow someone to help you. That is also part of being strong," he explained softly, his eyes shining with sincerity and understanding.
For a brief second, I allowed myself to think about what he'd just told me. Tears started streaming down my cheeks as I stared at him. I didn't want to cry in front of him but I couldn't help it. I was too emotional and I hated it.
Even though he was talking about the meaning of the pieces, he seemed to read my mind, somehow knowing exactly what I needed to hear.
"This world doesn't have to be so complicated," he said, smiling. "Just look inside yourself and make a decision."
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. With a single thought, my mind made the final connection. A sudden warmth spread through my chest as I remembered how easily I had connected with him when we met, how quickly and naturally we had fallen into an understanding.
With a slight nod of my head, I wiped my tears away, feeling slightly better. "Thanks…" I muttered, unable to form any other words.
"That's what I am here for," he replied, returning my nod with a warm smile.
He then slowly pushed my hair back from my shoulders. His touch lingered against the skin of the back of my neck, sending a wave of sensations through my body.
His fingertips glided across the bare skin of my exposed neck and then back up again, sending shivers through my entire body. A feeling that was not intentional.
His touch lingered there, making my knees weak, his presence making me crave more of his touch, which soon became a need to feel his body next to mine. Another unintentional need.
His eyes locked with mine as his fingers moved away from my neck. "How about you rest," he whispered softly and gently.
"Yeah," I agreed as I nodded and closed my eyes.
*******************************************
"What the hell are you doing here?!" I opened my eyes in fear upon hearing Marcus' shouting voice.
My eyes gazed in his direction and there he was in his wheelchair. His eyes screamed danger out of anger. Alejandro was still beside my bed. His face, too, looked surprised at the sudden appearance of his enemy.
I think the last days of my life have come to the surface of the earth.