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The station was crowded with people bustling in all directions. I bought a ticket, found my seat and settled in, leaning back and closing my eyes briefly. I had hoped to collect my thoughts somewhat during the drive to my mom’s place. Now, the bus ride would grant me some reprieve, a chance to sort my scattered ideas.
I sat near the back, looking out the window at the passing scenery. The gentle hum of the engine and the rhythmic motion of the bus lulled my mind into wandering, and it inevitably drifted to Emilio. I cursed silently, frustrated that even when I hadn't seen him for a couple of days, I couldn't stop thinking about him. His image, it seemed, had been etched into every corner of my mind.
I remembered the night at the hotel and the intense connection between us. But then, my thoughts veered to the scars I had glimpsed on his body. Scars that told a story of pain and struggle, scars I had chosen to ignore in the fervor of the moment.
My mind tagged this as another clue. What was Emilio involved in? What kind of life did he lead? My thoughts started to dance around the possibilities. My legal mind couldn't help considering different crimes he might be a part of – drug trafficking? Extortion? – and the consequences that could follow based on my knowledge of the law.
But why would he be in the midst of such things? The man I had met didn't seem to fit the stereotype of a criminal mastermind. My thoughts raced, painting a picture of a complex man caught in a web of dangerous dealings. But my imagination could only go so far; I needed answers, real ones.
Despite my apprehensions, my thoughts couldn't help but linger on him. His sincerity when he apologized, the fact he didn’t play up his position at Royalty Rentals, his kisses…
I blushed at the thought, my core tingling. There was no denying the magnetic pull that seemed to draw me closer to a man whose life and secrets remained shrouded in darkness. The scars, both seen and unseen, seemed to tell a tale that begged to be unraveled.
As the bus rumbled on, the landscape outside shifting, I continued to scroll mindlessly on my phone.
Taking a taxi, I finally arrived at my mother's house. It was a charming standalone house with a quaint garden at the front. The garden was adorned with vibrant flowers, a testament to my mother's fondness for gardening.
I could see geraniums, daisies, and a few sunflowers swaying gently in the breeze. Her herbs in flowerpots grew opulently on the porch.
I skipped up the three steps and found myself standing in front of the familiar door. I knocked, and it soon swung open, revealing my mother. She was shorter than me, a few gray strands gracing her braided hair, which she wore behind her back.
A wide smile brightened her face as she stepped forward to engulf me in a warm hug. Her embrace was comforting, and being here made me realize how much I had missed it.
"Griselda, it's so wonderful to see you," she greeted me with affection.
I felt a surge of warmth and reciprocated the hug. "It's great to see you too, Mom."
She ushered me inside, and I followed her to the kitchen. The enticing aroma of homemade lasagna filled the air, making my stomach growl in response. She began setting the table, and I made my way to the sink to wash my hands.
"Where's your car, dear?" she asked with concern.
"It decided not to start this morning," I replied, unable to keep the frustration from creeping into my voice.
"Really? Is it not a good car? Do you need to change it?" she inquired, trying to make sense of the situation.
"It's perfectly fine," I responded, my frustration growing. "I don't understand what happened this morning. It was working perfectly yesterday."
I sat down at the table, taking in the fragrance of the lasagna. It looked just as delicious as I remembered, with layers of pasta, rich tomato sauce, fresh herbs from her flowerpots, and gooey melted cheese. The aroma alone was enough to make my mouth water.
My mother joined me at the table, setting a plate of lasagna in front of me. It was piping hot, the steam still rising from it, and the cheese on top was perfectly golden. I couldn't help but appreciate the effort and love she put into her cooking.
"Have you taken the car to the mechanic?" she inquired.
“Not yet. I didn’t want to be late, so I’ll take it later.” I replied as I picked up my fork, unable to resist the temptation any longer.
I took a bite of the lasagna, and it was as heavenly as I remembered. The pasta layers were tender, the tomato sauce had a delightful tang, and the cheese... oh, the cheese melted on my tongue, releasing its creamy, savory goodness.
I couldn't help but moan in delight. "Mom, this is incredible. I've missed your cooking so much."
She smiled warmly, clearly pleased with my reaction. "I'm glad you like it, dear. It's been a while since you've been able to visit."
I nodded between bites, savoring every mouthful. "Yeah, work had been keeping me busy. Speaking of which, I got suspended recently."
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she accidentally dropped her fork, the clatter of metal against porcelain echoing through the room.
"Suspended? What happened?" Her concern was palpable.
I sighed, attempting to condense the tangled mess into an understandable story. "It's a long story, Mom. But it's a bit of a mess right now."
