Chapter Twelve

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After work, Mila immediately walks over to Harry's door. She is a little hesitant when she is about to knock after what she found out the other day, but she ignores it, and knock nevertheless because she needs answers.

It doesn't take long before he opens the door. He doesn't greet her, so neither does she. He only gestures with her arm for her to come inside. She walks in carefully before making her way into his living room. He follows behind her, but walks past her, and sits down on his couch.

"What do you know about Malik enterprises?" Mila asks as she sits down on the couch beside Harry. She turns to face him, crossing her legs in front of her. He turns towards her as well, his leg resting on the small space between them. His eyes widened for a mere second as she mentioned the name, and she wouldn't have noticed it if she wasn't paying as much attention to him as she did.

He shakes his head. "Never heard of it," he says, but by the way, he doesn't look her in her eyes she can't bring herself to believe Harry's words. "After your parents' death, what happened with you?" Mila's eyes widen from his bluntness but quickly realizes that she likes it. Ever since it happened people have been treading carefully around the subject, and it had always annoyed her.

"I went to live with my aunt, and there's really not much else to it." Harry stands up and walks over to his shelf filled with books, and if she knows him correctly it is only his favorites in there. The rest he has put somewhere else, not visible. Perhaps she does know enough about him to consider him a friend. "It's after they died that I truly began to appreciate books. They made me forget for a little while, and at that moment in my life it was all I needed because it was obviously something that was hard for me to deal with, so I chose not to. Which I realize now is very stupid, but I guess books helped me cope with it."

His finger dance over a book. Mila leans closer to see the title; The Girl Who Drank The Moon. "My mother read this to me, and my sister when we were very young. It was more for my sister's sake, but I found it interesting nevertheless." He takes it out of its place, and look at the cover of it with a smile filled with happy memories.

Mila leans closer as if being pulled towards him in some way. "My mother used to read to me as well, but none of the books made such an impression on me that I remember them well. She always tried to sing to me, but I asked her if she could read instead because she sounded so terrible." Harry throws his head back laughing, and Mila can't help but join him. Once the laughter has died down she asks, "what did you find so interesting about the book?"

He shrugs while flipping the book over in his hands. "In the book, there is this very handsome boy, but one day something happens, and his face gets covered in scars so deep and profound that even his mother flinches at the sight of him." Harry puts the book back and moves away from the bookshelf before he sits down in a chair by the couch Mila is resting on. "Then he meets this beautiful girl who doesn't even pay attention to his scars, and they fall in love, but the guy still hates the women who caused him the scars, but she tells him that she did him a favor. If she hadn't done to him what she did a lot of beautiful girls would be after him all because of his beautiful looks, and money, nothing more. She meant that thanks to the scars he found a girl who truly loved him for who he is, and he forgave her because he couldn't deny the happiness he felt with the girl he loves. So instead of hating her, he learned to be thankful for what she did."

Mila lays down on Harry's couch, suddenly feeling tired. She didn't know if it was because it was late, or because his voice sounds so soothing when he speaks. "He is much like you then," she says making him look at her intrigued, and curious as to why she thinks so.

"How am I like a man who got scars on his face, because he got attacked by magical paper birds?" Mila can't help but chuckle at how ridiculous that sentence sounds. She looks over at him with her head resting on the armrest on the couch. He is leaning forward on the chair with his arms resting on his thighs.

"Because you have scars." Her eyes suddenly become heavier to keep open. "They may not have been caused by magical paper birds, and you may not have them on your face for everyone to see. But inside you, you have deep scars." She licks her lips. "But I got to hand it to you. You are good at hiding them." Mila expects a reaction, but she doesn't expect him to just stare at her the way he does.

He drags his hands over his face in a slow motion. "The girl then," he starts saying before he takes a breath. "Do you see her anywhere in the future?" He asks slowly, and calmly. Mila suddenly becomes aware of her every breath, and her every move. She feels as if he isn't just watching her, but that he can see every thought and every emotion within her, and it scares her.

Mila sighs. "I feel like there will be a lot of girls." He leans back in his chair with a defeated look. "But she's going to be one of them. You just have to be careful that you pick the right one. Be sure that she knows all the good, and all the bad about you, and I think there is a lot of both." He shakes his head while he smiles at the ground. Mila admires the view, and can't help but smile herself. "Just be sure she knows and sticks around anyway."

Mila's eyelids become too heavy to hold open, so she lets them close, and sinks into the couch. All she hears is the sound of his breaths, and for some reason, that relaxes her more than anything. She can feel herself drift into sleep, and her breaths become heavy. Suddenly she feels something soft being placed over her body. "Let's see if you stick around then," he says before she hears him walk away. Her heart starts beating faster than ever before, and yet there is still an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Nevertheless, that night on his couch she falls asleep with a smile on her face.

Limerence H.SWhere stories live. Discover now