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I typed back with frustration.
Avery was getting worried, too.,
I texted back.
Avery's surprise was evident in her reply,
Of course, I did, but it was hard to explain. I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the key. Avery's question mark popped up on the screen, a silent nudge.
I began typing again, the words hesitant but genuine.
She responded,
Avery's understanding and support were a great source of comfort. I felt a rush of gratitude. As I hit send, the door swung open, and in walked Emilio.
"You’re back," I exclaimed, a glimmer of excitement despite my somber mood.
But that faded as I saw his expression. He seemed distant, lost in thought.
"Emilio, are you okay?" I asked, my pace slowing as I approached him with concern.
He seemed to snap out of his thoughts, looking around for a moment before meeting my eyes.
"Yeah, I'm... fine," he replied hesitantly.
I could sense something was very off, and my worry deepened as he asked about Enzo.
“Enzo left to meet Lucas,” I said.
Emilio sighed and pulled out his phone, immediately engrossed in typing a message. “I need to tell Enzo something.”
I wondered what could have transpired during the will reading that preoccupied Emilio so. As he walked past me, probably heading to his room, I looked at my buzzing phone. It wasn't Avery; it was my mom:
My mood had soured once again. I stood still, my gaze fixed on the phone, until Emilio came beside me, sensing something was amiss.
"What's wrong?" he asked, and I showed him the message. His brows furrowed as he read it.
"Your mom?" he asked, already guessing the answer. "Did she contact you?"
I sat down and sighed, feeling the weight of the day bearing down on me.
"Yeah," I admitted. "She called to tell me she's ready to tell me everything."
Emilio's concern was evident. He asked what she had said, probably assuming my mom had revealed some information. But I shook my head.
"She wants to tell me face to face," I muttered, feeling the complexity of my life increase with every passing second.
Emilio's concern was obvious as he sat beside me, gently holding my hand.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his eyes searching mine for answers.
"I don't know," I admitted quietly, finding it hard to put everything into words.
How many times had I been asked this question in the past few days?
Not wanting to wait for him to ask when I planned to meet my mom, I decided to beat him to it.
"I also don't know when I'm going to meet her," I confessed. "I need more time to process all of this."
