𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 [18+]

36: The way of Love

For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.

― Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

All I ask is to try and feel this chapter in your heart.

Cassidy Ortiz's POV:

Maldito!

A curse left my mouth as I felt the plane jerk back and forth. Probably the turbulence.

"Madam, would you like to have-"

"No thanks," I shushed her away, feeling annoyed. I probably should have pretended to fall asleep so that I wouldn't have to deal with these annoying makeup smacked fairies.

Pardon me for my behavior, I have been cranky lately.

I crossed my arms, glaring out of the window of the Emirates that was currently taking me to Oxford.

Clouds. Tremendous array of clouds. Some were faint yellow, some wore slight blushes, some were a deep purple that complimented the blazing noon, morphing into afternoon. Some were mystique blue, a handful of them resembled a nacarat, almost orange marshmallow- but most of them were white.

They looked like a colorful warm blanket.

I sighed, closing my eyes. What if Rose was still alive? Wouldn't she be happy that we have finally opened another branch of our restaurant in another city? A city like Oxford at that....

I opened my eyes, tears blurring my vision.

She would have been happy. Really happy. Maybe she is still watching me from those clouds.

My hija was an angel. Whenever, I would look up at the sky, I would always imagine her singing and dancing over the clouds. And when the night fell, I would often look up at the sky and imagine the brightest star of the sky as her.

She was so pure, but so hurt.... God better give her the best place in heaven....

Tears fell down freely now, as I thought about her, my heart clenching painfully.

Sometimes I felt I was being watched over by her. Maybe she was requesting the deity to give me a better, shinier restaurant.

I chuckled through the tears, the mental image of her requesting a huge ball of energy to give me a nice restaurant was too funny to ignore.

My Rose was never the type to argue with someone. She would always plead, request and when she didn't get it she would respectfully roast everything and anything that came in her way. It was quite evident that I couldn't morph her behaviors so that she could stand for herself and scream "I fucking own it!" But then again she was a fragile child.

I found her at my doorstep, beaten, bleeding, marred, broken. She was fainted in the mud, her pink princess dress was torn in many places.

I still remember wailing out loud at the sight. My first thought was how could someone do that to a child? She was probably four or maybe a but more than four.