Gardenias And His Last Goodbye

Clemen

and house, usually filled with a stifling quiet, felt vast and empty

rainy photo filled the screen. Franco, his face etched with worry, cradling Katina in his arms. She was pale, her head resting on his shoulder. Th

w. This just confirmed it. Franco had abandoned our engagement p

time when Franco would look at me like that, his small hand holding mine tightly as we stood on the precipice of childh

roat. I stumbled towards the bathroom, fumbling for a tissue. Cold water splashed against my face, but the blood kept coming. I pressed toilet paper firmly against my n

ana? Are you awake?" It was Ellsworth, his

to erase the evidence. "Yes, Father. Just

rth stood there, his face grim

on. Franco was already there, standing stiffly before his father, his j

omed, his voice echoing thro

ther, no. I can't." His pride, always h

e dangerously low. "You disgraced thi

uldn't bend. Not for anyone. Not even for his father.

me, this spectacle. But I didn't want it. I just wanted to disapp

ana, go upstairs. You need your rest." His voice was gentle, a

some distant point, anything to avoid the storm brewing in his ey

y room muffled the angry words, the strained silence

night's humiliations. When I woke, the room was dark save for a sliver of m

el the intensity of his gaze. For a fleeting moment, I remembered the boy who used to sne

oice was low, dangerous. "You ran

ming. "No, Franco, I didn't. I

knew about Katina. About the hospital. How else w

I whispered, my voice h

ée, letting my father do your dirty work. Typical. Can't even fight your own battles." He gestured wildly with his hand. "Katin

No appeal. He saw what he wanted to see. I was the villain, the obstac

barely made it to the bathroom, clutching my mouth, and

ening sound that vibrated through

the mirror. My face was pale, my eyes sunken. A gho

nelt, my fingers fumbling with the latch, and pulled out a stack of papers. A medi

p into the shadows. He would nev