"Everyone has secrets, and everyone has something to hide, but the real question is what are you willing to do to keep yours hidden inside."
When Juliet, Violet, and Scarlet's abusive mother and stepfather were mysteriously murdered. Their lives to...
"Love is the bridge that connects hearts in pain. With patience and understanding, it can heal even the deepest wounds."
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R A F A E L V A L E N T I N E
I stared at the white doors, my heart pounding loudly in my chest. Gathering the courage to face Juliet, I had been standing there for what felt like an eternity.
The worry gnawed at me, consuming my thoughts. What if I screwed up again? What if I scared her as I did before? I couldn't bear the thought of causing her any more pain.
But I also couldn't stay frozen in fear. I had to try, had to show her that I cared, that I wanted to help. The food I had brought for her was getting cold. Juliet hadn't been eating properly, and she had refused to join us for dinner.
Violet reassured me that she was eating under her care, but I needed to see it with my own eyes. I needed to see that my baby girl was still here, that she was okay.
I knocked on the door gently, my hand trembling slightly. No response. I knocked again, this time with a bit more force, and the door slowly swung open, revealing a thin, pale figure before me. My heart broke at the sight of her.
Her cheeks were a bit sunken from the lack of food, her once vibrant caramel skin now pale and dull, and her eyes... her eyes were empty, void of any emotion.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I fought to hold them back. The guilt and pain washed over me as I realized that I could be one of the causes of her suffering.
She was my youngest child, my baby, and to see her like this tore me apart. I felt desperate to solve all her problems, to fix everything, and to ensure she never had to suffer again.
"I am so sorry, Tesoro," I choked out, my voice filled with raw emotion. "I should have communicated better, but I was just so desperate to help you, to hear your voice, that I ended up hurting you."
Her eyes flickered with something, a hint of emotion, but she didn't move or respond.
"May I come in?" I asked gently, taking a step closer to her. I wanted to be near her, to hold her, but I didn't want to intrude on her space.
She hesitated for a moment before nodding, and I stepped inside her room, carefully closing the door behind me. My heart ached as I looked around trying to find some sign of my little girl, now lost in the shadow of her pain before I could ever gotten to know her.
"I brought you some guisado de carne con arroz. I hope you like it; I made it myself," I said, trying to provoke some reaction from her, but was met with nothing but her blank stare.
I carefully placed the tray of food on the bedside table and sat down next to her. I wanted to touch her, to hold her hand, but I was afraid of causing more discomfort.
Instead, I glanced at a photo that hung on the wall. It was a cherished memory from our beach day before the girls were taken by their mother.
The photo captured a joyful moment, all of us together, basking in the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the beach. I held a small giggling, two-year-old, Juliet in my arms, while my oldest Dante carried restless Scarlet and Antonio happy Violet.
