as cold as ice

93 10 13

I hadn't seen my father in at least 2 years. He didn't look much different, he's always had a lot of grey hair - probably caused by the stress of work. But I guess that's the sacrifice you have to make to be a freaking multi-millionaire.

He had a clean shaven face, and the pale skin he'd passed down to me. His dark brown eyes had formed a few more wrinkles than the last time I saw him, and there were noticeable bags under them, but that also might be because it was the middle of the night.

"Aria? It's 3AM."

"I know."

"God, you reek of alcohol. What are you wearing?"

Nice to see you too, dad.


He cut me off before I could finish.

"Shower, change into different clothes, then we can talk," he deadpanned.

The amount of restraint I was using to suppress an eye roll could've powered an entire continent.

I walked in, kicking off my heels, not even bothering to turn and look at my dad before heading upstairs to my childhood bedroom, to grab some old clothes.

Turning the shower faucet and letting the hot water run across my skin felt like heaven. I wanted to stay under the steaming water forever, but I had friends who needed my help.

My feet padded against the bathroom tile until I found a towel, dried myself off, cleaned up, and changed clothes.

I looked at myself in the mirror, wet hair, eye bags, and not a drop of makeup in sight. Staring at my reflection, I took a deep breath, muttering to myself.

"It's okay, he's just your dad. He's a bit of an ass, but he's your dad. Don't be sca-"

"Honey, is that you?"

The bathroom door cracked open as my sleepy mother peaked in.

My heart began to soar.

Her original long black hair had been cut into a dark bob, and her green eyes widened when she realized it was me.

"Oh, Aria!"

We crashed into each other, wrapping the other in a tight hug. Her smell was the exact same. A light floral lotion she'd used all these years. I used to keep some in my bag when I'd missed her.

Over the years, I'd tried visiting home many times. Not for my father, he'd rarely ever acknowledge my existence, but for my mom.

After Ally died, my mom pulled away from everything. Cooking, cleaning, my father, even me. She'd hired a nanny to look after me while she threw herself into her work in an attempt to distract herself from the thoughts of her daughter who'd taken her own life.

Like I said, after moving out after high school I tried to visit my mother many times... but she was always too busy caught up in work, designing clothes, to spend time with me. After that, she began to remind me of my father, and it hurt too much to be rejected, more by her than anyone else.

She was the light of my life, my shoulder to cry on, my guide. She was my mom.

And I missed her, the real her.

"I missed you so much..." I sighed into her shoulder.

"I missed you too, sweetie."

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