The Red String

Chapter 3. First Encounter

"Yeah, right. But in my case, men are the ones taking turns," Normani said, her smile unwavering. "And I'm going to believe that just because I don't want to see you squirm."

"How thoughtful of you," Lauren remarked ironically. "Can we go now? I'd like to be back before dinner."

"How about we all go out for dinner?" Ally suggested. "I know a new Mexican restaurant that I think you'll absolutely love."

"We've got to make the trip to Brooklyn first," Lauren said. "But after that, we can have dinner wherever you'd like because I'm honestly open to eating anything."

Ally gave her a wide smile. "Then count me in!"

"Me too." Normani nodded before smirking at her friend. "Lauren owes us dinner."

Rolling her eyes, Lauren ambled toward the door. She couldn't understand how she ended up being friends with Ally and Normani. But the truth was—though she would never admit it out loud—she genuinely cared for them. They were her family, always having each other's backs. In the vast expanse of New York, the three of them were all they had. And throughout her entire life, Normani and Ally were the only people the green-eyed woman had willingly befriended; no one had dictated that for her.

Ally and Normani had moved from Texas to attend art school, thanks to their scholarships. They had met years prior and had been best friends ever since. Lauren came into the picture later on, and she was eventually added to their group without even being asked whether she wanted to be part of it or not. One day, she had just woken up with her two roommates dragging her out to lunch, and ever since then, they had been joined at the hip.

Lauren had to admit that, despite her reservations, she did care about them and love them. Maybe not always, like now, but she did.

As the three walked toward the car and the green-eyed woman felt Mani pulling her into a hug, a small smile formed on Lauren's lips. Yes, she definitely loved them.

*****

Miami, Florida

"Any news?" the woman asked, a trace of sadness in her eyes as she watched her husband shake his head.

The man sighed. "She hasn't answered my calls or the messages I sent. You know how Lauren is."

"I know, but I can't come to terms with that," she said with a tone of anguish. "We're her family, Michael. It's been almost two years."

"There's nothing we can do if she doesn't want to see us, Clara," Michael Jauregui said, wrapping his arms around his wife, whose eyes glistened with tears.

"Where did we go wrong?" Clara asked. "All we ever did was make her feel welcome and give her a place to call home, and still, she doesn't love us. Why doesn't she want to talk to us?"

"Lauren has always been shy and secretive." Michael let out a sigh. "Now she's living her life in the fashion world, and we're not a part of it. We're not even in the same state."

"We only get to see her through pictures," she whispered. "She doesn't have any real bond with her siblings, except for sending them cars and expensive gifts on their birthdays. And I can't stand the fact that her relationship with us is fragile. She's my baby girl and I love her, so why doesn't she just accept the love I have to give her?"

Michael gazed at his wife with a sense of helplessness and held her close as he heard her sobbing, offering whatever solace he could. Clara was going through a lot, and he could truly understand her pain. The emotional detachment from their eldest daughter was a significant blow, and it affected Michael too, even though he was making an effort to remain strong for his wife.