MAfia Desire

Two.

I'm sorry it getting fast forward but I promise you that it all worth it
It a story you will surely enjoy ☺️
..@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

THREE MONTHS LATER...

DIVYA

My body screamed from exhaustion. Every day it felt like a massive rock had lodged itself in my heart, leaving the rest of my body lifeless and drained of energy. There were worse situations to be in. There must be people with bigger problems. But today, and every other day before it, felt like the weight of the entire world was crushing down on my shoulders, dragging me down.

A sigh spilt out of me as I let myself out of the bus and lugged my groceries along. Big bags of nothing filled to keep me alive. That was what food was to me these days. The bags were too heavy. But it wasn't like there was anyone around to help me out. Just when I thought Adam could be that person, he ended up showing his real colours, and they turned out to be the dark sort.

Standing still for a moment, I tried to take a deep breath, trying to get rid of that ever-present emptiness inside me, something that had permanently anchored into me since losing my parents. I hated this feeling. It felt as if someone had rammed a hand inside my chest and jerked my heart out. Try as I might, I couldn't take that deep breath. Things of the past, those deep breaths, just like my parents now.

I put my bags down on the wet footpath and fixed the strand of brown hair that had escaped. I loved my long hair. I always thought it had just the right amount of natural waves in the end. But today, just like everything else, it was annoying the hell out of me.

I picked up my bags again and trudged up the hill leading to my rundown apartment building.

It was over a year since they passed away. But I can remember the late afternoon call on that dreadful day like it was yesterday. I knew the moment I heard Mrs Smith's voice that something was off. My parents' neighbour was lovely, but I had never called her before. Or she me.

Something terrible has happened, sweetie ... your mama and papa have met with an accident... you should come home.... She didn't tell me then that they were already dead, that they actually died on impact. But I had already known that. I wish my sixth sense had shown up when I called the day before they died. I wish it had nudged me to tell them I loved them. Throughout that seven-hour flight to London, I knew they were already gone, well before I fell into the arms of my friends and Mrs Smith.

A year had passed, and I still couldn't sidestep my pain to remember the good things. Would I ever be able to do that? Remember them fondly and not miss them every single day. Would I be able to get up one morning and not have that gawking emptiness inside me? Maybe it would have been easier with a brother or a sister. Only a sibling could share this pain. The rest, no matter how close they had been to them, had moved on.

On Tuesday, when I dumped Adam, I called my mum. I hadn't disconnected their lines, and I had put all my anger and pain into that voice message. Pathetic, I knew that. But somehow comforting.

Tuesday was just a day with too much heartbreak. My universe tilted on the edge when my parents died on a Tuesday, and now bloody Adam had to show his true colours on another Tuesday. I was swearing off Tuesdays.

I had forgiven him when he had refused to fly back with me to England. I had somehow even forgiven him when he didn't turn up for the funeral. I hadn't understood why, nor had I cared. My head had been full trying to arrange the most beautiful funeral I could for two people so diverse in character and culture. When I got back, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. He couldn't handle all those emotions, all that crying. I got that. If I could, I would rather bury my head in the sand and still believe Mum and Dad were alive, waiting for my next visit or planning to visit themselves.