Hazy

Chapter Four.

Author’s Note: Sorry for the most delayed update ever! I swear this won’t happen again. Did anyone miss the story? :)

So, semi-finals is worse than finals itself, in my case. I was so busy finishing my projects and requirements the whole month for the whole semester, because I have too many deadlines to beat. But that’s already settled, and now I’m free as a bee. ;)

Enough of me blabbering, here’s another filler chapter before the flashback’s big reveal. And I would like to occupy some space in here to thank you guys for having almost 20,000 reads and almost 300 followers! That’s so insane! Thank you guys so much!

Please vote/comment! These are hints that you like the story so far. :)

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Hazy.  Chapter Four.

The ceiling of my room has never been so boring in my life before. It was plain, just like me, the owner herself. My ceiling was painted white, just like my whole bedroom. Just white. And for its design, it was only embellished with glow in the dark stickers of stars that looked like light green dots all the way down here in my bed. The stickers were clinging for their life – slightly faded and ready to fall apart anytime soon. Those stickers were there for as long as I remember. I realized my mother bought them in a dollar store back when I was still in my second grade.

That was before she went away with her lover – her high school sweetheart; with no goodbyes for me or for dad – the man she legitimately married and eventually left in the dark with a clueless little girl.

She just… left us.

She just left me. She doesn’t want me in her life.

I can still quite remember my first birthday that she left us. She wasn’t there and I thought dad didn’t invite her to my little tea party that he set up in our living room. “I thought you wuuv her, daddy.” I sniffed. My nose was red from sobbing when he told me that she wasn’t coming. “I thought you wuuuuuv mommy. Y’said you wuv her. You did.” By then, my tiny body was overthrown by hiccups because of the crying and I swear it was horrible. My dad broke down crying with me as he hugged me tightly, my pink birthday dress stained with both of our tears. “I love your mother, I swear I love her, Jamie. I do, I do. But she isn’t coming anymore.” I lost count on how many times dad said he loves her because at that time and age, I think I could only count until three hundred ninety-nine. That was the first and only time I saw my dad cry.

That same day, dad let me watch cartoons for as long as I wanted because it was my birthday. And because of that, I was okay. I was feeling okay. I thought dad was okay too because he kissed me on the cheek and told me he was going to rest early so he could work well tomorrow and he would buy me another cake. Now that I think of it, he wasn’t okay then. He was in pieces and he had me. He only had me. I was a gift because he had me, but then again, I was the only piece left of my mother – his wife. We were together but we weren’t really complete.

I wonder if he’s fine now. I wonder if we’re totally okay now.