I lay in my bed, and Rose was next to me; it was already morning, and the first rays of the sun spread across the room onto my face.
We were silent for most of the night; I was broken, not able to speak, and she was lost in her own thoughts. I had built so many walls around me, isolating myself from the world.
I turned to the other side, and on the nightstand, I saw a white paper, probably obtained from the office when I was in a rush. I remember when we used to go to church; they always wanted to teach us about purity, innocence, as if there were no bad things in this world. So, I always listened to what they had to say, and their lesson was, 'If you see this white paper, so clean, so pure, you want to draw on it, write on it; it's just perfect. But if you stain it, if you fold it, and it becomes creased and flawed, does anyone still want to write on it?' Nobody did. Neither did I. That paper represented our innocence, and after Giovanni took mine by force, I felt like that paper - crumpled, dirty, unwanted.
Apollo broke those walls with one single blow, showing me that I was lovable, no matter how flawed I was. He made me feel beautiful, inside, and out. I felt valued. Instead of wishing he would fix me, I accepted my broken pieces.
I framed them and owned them as mine, forever.
And even though he made me cry and opened a tornado of emotions all at once, I knew he would always come back for me. And even though he thought I wasn't safe in his hands, he made me feel safest when I was with him.
I took the paper and crumpled it, throwing it on the floor, then turned to face Rose. She was looking at photos of Mom in Paris. We never really talked about her, and she was honestly my best childhood memory.
I whispered to myself, "Today is better than yesterday, and tomorrow will be better than today."
"I've been exploring opportunities to study abroad," Rose shared, her eyes gleaming. "I want to study Art in Paris, just like Mom did."
"Rose, why all of a sudden?" I asked, taken aback.
"I saw this photo of Mom's friend, I Googled her, and her daughter is Art Professor Amelie Guilbaud. I have a feeling Mom is slipping away, and I just want to stay close to her," she explained.
"I miss her too, you know, but she will always be with us," I said. "And she would love for you to go."
"I just hope one day you'll be able to open your own bookstore like you wanted to, who knows, maybe write your own book so I can illustrate it," she said, leaning her head on my shoulder and blinking her eyes toward me.
I pulled her close, grateful for her.
"Oh, Rose," I sighed. "Promise me you'll dream your dreams and never come down from your little cloud."
She chuckled.
"And why is that? So, I can light you up?"
"No, darling," I smiled.
"I want you to dream so big that you build your dreams. I don't want you to end up hired by some dumbasses so you can build their dreams."
"Don't you know me?" She came closer. "They'll fire me anyway."
I smiled. "What would I do when you leave for Paris?" I mused.
"Be with your husband," she teased. "I know how much you miss him."
I leaned in, kissing her cheek and touching her nose with my finger. "Won't you be happy without me?"
"I'm not leaving just yet," she reassured me with a smile. "I still have to apply."
"I'll ask Aurelio to make some calls," I assured her.
Aurelio's knock echoed through the room, instantly silencing our laughter.
His slow steps carried him toward us, his expression a mix of hesitation and urgency.
"Can we talk, Belle?" he asked, his voice longing.
"I'll give you some space," Rose said, gracefully rising from her seat and discreetly exiting the room. Her eyes briefly locked with Aurelio's before he focused on me.
"Before I do something stupid, I must know," he said, vulnerability etched across his face. "Is there any chance for us?"
"You know the answer, Aurelio," I replied, my gaze shifting to the memories that haunted us both. "I love Apollo, and I will choose him over all my haunting memories of us."
"I never apologized to you for never being there for you eight years ago," he said. "And now when I am finally stepping up, it's haunting me. Seeing you here every day, it's just painful, Belle."
His admission of regret hung heavy in the air as he stepped closer, attempting to bridge the emotional chasm between us.
"I forgive you, Aurelio," I sighed. "It was not your fault what happened, and it's not my fault I never gave you an explanation why I left."
"I know why you left, Belle, but I was always afraid to ask," he said, taking my hand and wiping a tear from my cheek.
"And why?" I dared to ask.
"After you didn't show up on the night of your eighteenth birthday, I went to New Jersey. I got messed up, and two days after I sobered up, I went to your house to ask your dad where you were. Rose opened the door; she was alone at the house. She told me your dad took you to the village because you were going to have a baby," he said. "I freaked out and I never wanted to stay in touch."
The truth of his words and my darkest memory, suppressed deep in the darkest corner of my mind, surfaced, bringing me to the edge of tears. My heart shattered into a million pieces as I didn't share that with anyone; even Rose was too little to remember. The aftermath of the assault had left me waking up in a hospital, only to be informed that I was pregnant. The weight of shame, dirtiness, and the fear that this child would be a perpetual reminder of that horrific experience led me to the painful decision to give the baby away.
The haunting regret lingered, as I couldn't bring myself to rid my life of the child entirely, yet I couldn't bear the thought of raising him. It was a choice that broke me, a decision I tried to rectify too late. I searched for him, but time had slipped through my fingers, leaving me haunted by my past.
"I named him Elio," I confessed, my voice choked with tears.
"He reminded me of you, at least I wanted him to remind me of you, as I didn't want to cling to the fact, he was a baby of my abuser."
Aurelio wrapped his arms around me, holding me tightly.
"You may not be mine, Belle, but in my heart, you've always been mine."
"It's time to let go, Aurelio," I whispered to him.
"I love Apollo, truly I do," I said, my words a mix of gratitude and remorse.
"Meeting him, learning to love my scars as he does, thawed the cold, hard person they molded me into."
"I'll never forgive myself for not having the courage to find you again," he admitted.
"Time won't come back, Aurelio," I said. "You deserve someone who will wait for you at late night and heal your wounds as Apollo did mine."
He chuckled. "Easier said than done."
"My mom used to say we can't start a new chapter if we keep re-reading the last one. Life moves on," I said. "Look at us, bonding," I chuckled. "It's the first time we're not fighting like cat and mouse."
"Yeah," he chuckled. "Maybe we were never meant to be."
"Maybe," I said, smiling.
The door creaked open.
"Are you two gossiping about me?" Rose returned, taking a seat next to us. "Elena is here."
"No, we're not, Rosemary," Aurelio replied, playfully pinching her cheek.
"I hate it when you call me that," she grumbled, her pupils dilating like storm clouds, her brows furrowing into an irritated expression.
He pinched her cheek again, teasingly adding, "Little Rose growing up, going all the way to Paris."
"Old enough to kick your ass," she said, punching his shoulder.