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Despite being mad as fuck at the deception and what happened at the hacienda, there is a part of me that still hopes I can find a plausible explanation so I can…move on.
IknowNoelle. Maybe I don't know her darker side, but I know the one that shines so brightly it almost blinds me. And because I know that one; because I love her for it, I must let her show me the dark too.
After all, is it true love if I accept her light but reject her darkness? Is it true love if I drop her at the first sign of trouble with no explanation?
The answer is simple.
No.
She might be fucked up. She might be a fucking wolf dressed in sheep clothing.
But she's mine, damn it.
And I'm not going to give up on her.
In spite of her blatant unrepentance, I can clearly see she wasn't unaffected by the death of the baby. Now, and before. That alone tells me there is more to the story than I know. But more than anything, I refuse to believe Noelle would have killed the baby with her own hands. Until I see evidence to the contrary, I refuse to believe such things.
Yes, she might be guilty of many things.
But I do not believe for one moment that she's capable of something like that.
If anything, she seems just as traumatized by the topic, but she forces herself to put on a front so she won't succumb to her feelings.
To decipher her, I need to focus on what I do know of her.
And just like me, Noelle is a master at burying her feelings deep down.
Isn't that what got us here?
What had Cisco said? That she'd changed her own reality to cope with what had happened to her—that she'd lied to herself so well, she'd started believing the damn lie.
And that tells me the most important thing.
Behind her flawless conviction that she is a bad woman through and through—that she is the villain of the story—there's guilt, regret and heartbreak.
That is the best place to start.
Show me who you are, Noelle. Who youreallyare.
And maybe along the way I'll find out who I am, too…
When everything isn't perfectly tied with a bow; when we're clawing our way out of the gutter, who are we?
Who the hell are we?
17Rafaelo
When I step into the salon the following morning, Noelle is up and ready. Looking her over, there are deep dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks sunken in.
"You didn't sleep?" I raise a brow as I hand her a small bag I'd packed for her.
She gives me a tight smile.
"You wouldn't sleep either in my position."
I ignore her words and the echo of pain they cause in my chest.
"I signed the release forms for you, but you'll be back in therapy after we return."
