A day has gone by since Liam departed from my house—and my life maybe. If he hadn't told me he was leaving the city, I would've blindly lied to myself that something dreadful has happened to him and that's why he can't call me back. But that is not the case, I know it.

He just doesn't want to talk to me. He's furious with me.

But when my phone buzzes after a monument of time, a slight ray of hope beams my way at the thought of it being Liam calling, but my heart sinks when I find no one but Jonathan. I close my eyes, frustrated, before releasing a long breath. I watch the screen for a while until I decide to answer with so much anger and reluctance.

"Hi, Kira," he greets.

"What is it?" My voice is hostile and I can't help it.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" he asks, and I swallow hard to control my impulse. "Kira?" he calls again.

"Jonathan, please. Let's save the pretense and roll straight to the reason why you called! I'm not in the mood for the pleasantries," I flap, pain and disappointment being the chief of my disposition.

Jonathan has nothing important to say other than thanking me for what I did. How ironic! Thanks to my statement and the medical information from Jeremy's psychiatrist, he was able to be released under the mental instability defense.

"Well, congratulations! Is that what you want to hear from me?" I snap.

"Um, not really. I just wanted to tell you that—" He pauses, and the memories from last night make me smother a cry that has him ask, "Kira, are you okay?"

"No, I'm not, and it's thanks to all of you!" Warm tears burn at the back of my eyes. "Now if you're done, can I hang up? Because I have no interest in knowing anything about your family! I don't want to see you, Sam, or your brother! I've done what you all asked me to so leave me alone!"

I want to cry my heart out, screaming out loud, but will it help?

No, I'm done with this. I'm so fucking done weeping like a child.

"Okay, Kira. Okay." Jonathan says calmly. "The court has established a restraining order, so he won't come near you—I promise. I'll make sure of that as he's going to leave L. A tomorrow for everyone's sake."

"I hope so," I say with a pause, "because if he comes near me, I swear I won't be responsible for whatever happens. I don't care what I'll have to do to get rid of his face at my sight, Jonathan!"

I'll kill him if necessary.

"I understand. And trust me, Jeremy will never get near you again. I know what I'm talking about," he insists. I sigh. "Are you okay, though? You sound a bit strange. Is it about Sam? I think she'll come around, Kira, just give her some time," he wisely let me know.

I roll my tired eyes.

Honestly, Sam is the least of my worries at the moment, if not at all. For all I care, she can go deep into the hell pit.

After a shower, I realize I'm about to go crazy and I may need someone to talk to. I drag myself to Amelia's; she's the only one I can think of. After knocking on her door about three times, it finally creaks open.

Relief washes over me when I see her ginger head poking over the keychain.

"Kira?" she calls gleefully, tucking the chain off to let the wide. But her smile fades upon seeing my languid smile. "What's wrong, dear?" She swings the door wider and sprints her chubby body out.

"Can I talk to you?" I ask her, desperately.

"Of course, Kira, come in," she offers.

I've never been inside her place before. A smooth fragrance of vanilla and butter welcomes me. My genuine smile appears and curious my eyes wander. Her living room looks like a little museum of a kind. There's a wooden shelf full of antiques and relics—like an old clock and intricate wooden carvings of bald African women stationed on the side slots.

The curtains in her windows are accented by charming beaded pendants that swing beautifully from above the panels, and a few tribal paintings, together with a dreamcatcher on the wall of her bedroom area, pull my attention away. It's so Amelia-like. I take a seat on the brown classic sofa, covered with a crochet blanket like the way Mexicans decorate their couches.

"Your place is charming," I comment.

"Oh, please." She blushes away. "Just give me a minute, I'll go get you something to drink."

"Um, no, Amelia." I try to object.

"Nonsense! I'm sure you haven't eaten anything. And it so happens that I baked a flan cake this morning, with some coffee. Trust me you'll have a bigger bite because it's the family recipe." She winks.

God, she's a talking machine.

"Sure." I nod in agreement before she disappears into her kitchen.

My mind freezes for a while, and a small respite pulls me out of my emotional cuffs as my attention stays on the old TV, on which some Mexican soap opera seems to be aired. Two old ladies are arguing over some birth secret they swore to keep, and I don't understand who leaked it between the two.

Interesting.

Amelia returns and together we start having the delicious cake and coffee while I try my best to enjoy it as it deserves.

"How is it?" she asks expectantly about the white cake, trying to lift my rotten mood.

"It's delicious." I manage to smile genuinely, and she warms up at the sight. Now I understand why the scent of sweetness bathed the air from the moment I walked in. "You're an awesome baker. I'll have to learn a few tricks." I savor the cake, enjoying how fluffy, moist, and soft it feels in my mouth, let alone the splendid taste of caramel drizzle and other secret ingredients.

"Aw, thanks. Enjoy then. You got to finish that or I'll be very mad," she urges and a laugh rumbles out of me. "And tell me what happened while at it."

"A lot happened," I say with a sigh and my appetite sinks. "A few days ago there was a commotion here. I guess you weren't around, but plenty of mishaps followed because of the incident."

I tell her some details about the Jeremy fiasco and the fact that my boyfriend is now on a riot because of that.

Or it's not just a cold riot? He can't be gone for good. No, he said he wouldn't.

"Oh, honey," Amelia gasps in mild shock. "I was away in Colorado for a few days and I had no idea such a terrible thing happened to you. I only returned last night and—"

"Don't worry, Amelia." I laugh at her grand exaggeration, and for once I feel deeply relieved. "I just wanted to let it off my chest, because I have no idea what will happen next now that... Well, now that the man I love is gone and the friend I've known for over a decade has decided to brand me an enemy."

"I understand, dear, and talking it out is the first stage for self-healing." She smiles sheepishly.

"I don't know." I lick my fork and laugh. "It feels like I'm back to square one, stuck in the mud in the middle of nowhere. I think I'm all alone now, and there's nothing I can do. Maybe it's my fate, right? Maybe I'm destined to be alone, just as the day I lost both my parents."

"Come on, Kira. It has been only a day, right? Maybe something came up and he had to leave, you never know." Amelia sounds hopeful.

"Yeah. I never know." I smile bitterly.

"And yes, fate can be cruel sometimes, but you shouldn't be negative because of the trials it throws your way," Amelia says.

"Trials? Those trials are way beyond my capacity, though. Do they think I'm a wonder woman or something? Because I'm also very weak, Amelia, and I need to be understood as well! To be taken care of! But all I've been doing since I was little is handling pain alone. I can't even breathe sometimes, thinking why I'm still breathing anyway. I wish I'd have died in that accident, maybe it would've been better than living such an empty life!" I feel so frustrated inside.

"Oh, Kira, don't say such words!" Amelia frantically cries and I immediately feel her warm arms wrapping me. "This shall pass, you will see."

"I don't know. I just want to close my eyes and disappear." I wither in her embrace.

"No, dear, time will heal your scars. You'll see."

"When? Until I go old with gray hair?" I joke, and we both laugh for a change.

I want to hold onto Amelia's words. I desperately do. But something deep inside, like a red devil that eats people's faith and hopes, reminds me that everything was nothing but a short-lived fantasy that has come to an end.

But I try to be patient and positive.

___

My afternoon has gone rather better than I expected. I had a long chat with Amelia and time seemed to fly quicker than before. She is a very nice woman; a good talker, and a better listener. Now I'm back to my place, alone as I've always been, staring at the four walls that shrink at every second that passes, suffocating me.

Sighing, I peer into my phone and find absolutely nothing. Maybe you mistakenly put it in airplane mode; I can hear my subconscious making fun of me. A burst of ridiculous laughter escapes my lips as I sit down on the couch, heavily. With all the voicemails I sent, not even a text from Liam?

A rueful wave of apprehension blankets me. What if I never hear from him again? What if what we had is no more? I shriek, cowering like a broken-hearted teenager on the couch. Either way, I try calling him again, and to my surprise, it rings. I quickly get up, my heart pounding out of rhythm.

"Please pick up, Liam. Please pick up," I mumble to myself while biting my nails like a terrified child. It rings, and rings, but no one answers. "Fuck!"

I'm vexed and furious. If I don't do anything about it, I may collapse on the floor. I don't think I can forgive him for this. He's cruel. Exasperated, I record a very disturbing voicemail, pouring my fury into it.

"You know what, you've won! Just go away and don't ever show up in front of me! I don't ever want to see your face, you bastard! I know you were just waiting for an excuse to leave me. Is that—" I fail to go on as the sobs clog my throat. "Is that what you wanted?" My voice softens as I wail. "To get rid of me once you get tired?"

This is so hard, it hurts so much. I stay still, emptying my mind with alternate sighs. Why am I behaving like this? I don't like it but I can't help it.

And suddenly I hear my phone chirping. I quickly take it to my palm, hoping with all my faith that it's Liam.

Oh God, it's him!

My heart beats too fast as I pick up.

"Hello." It's a woman's voice.

"Um...Yes?" I utter very carefully, ignoring the dread in my racing heart.

Why a woman? Where's Liam?

"I'm sorry, this is Alexa Smith from St. John's Hospital, New York," she replies.

"W–what? Hospital? Why? Where is Liam? I mean... why do you have Liam's phone?" I snap like a broken record, unsure what exactly I'm saying.

God, no! Please don't let anything bad happen to him.

"No, Ma'am, calm down," she says smoothly. " I believe the owner of this phone has lost or misplaced it somehow. We are going to hand it to the police if no one reclaims it by the end of the day. But since you called, maybe you can help us with the name so we can check the hospital records to see if it's someone who works or visited here recently."

Relief washes over me. So he's already in New York. He decided to leave without saying goodbye. Knowing this makes me feel so miserable inside.

"Maybe he came to visit a patient," I tell the lady on the phone. I remember Liam mentioning a friend. Hospital? "His name is Liam Darcy. You can check your records."

"Liam... Darcy. Hold on a second," she says. I wait, pacing around restlessly. And finally, I hear, "Liam Darcy. Okay, that can be helpful."

"Alright. Please let me know if you fail to reach him," I implore.

"I will. Have a good day." She hangs up.