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Chapter 3- But how much I wish

After verifying my details, the guy in the robe leaves me and the girl alone. I finally let my eyelids drop, enjoying the silence that takes over the small room. The girl says something after a few seconds pass and catches my attention.

"I... love Milan," she murmurs.

"Premature infatuation?

"No," she squeals as I let out a growl, "No," she lowers her voice, "I also love him as my only and best friend.

"Also?

"Don't play hard to get," she demands. I open my eyes and find the white ceiling above me: "He always mentioned you in every conversation. He always repeated a strange phrase in different words, but the meaning stayed the same: Eron always looks lazy, but the truth is that a lot of energy and words are stored inside him. He is a good person. There are many more with whom he appreciates."

"Please..."

"He's a good friend," she says as her gaze focuses on me, "If people knew Eron, they wouldn't let a diamond in the rough like him go to waste."

"That brat," I put my healthy arm over my face and held back a sob. I always see the silver lining where there isn't any." The last one sounds broken.

I can't... I can't cry.

"That's why I wanted to know if you were all right, Eron. He always cared about you."

"Don't say the word like that, please," I beg, very overcome.

Surprisingly, she pulled my arm away before bringing her other hand to my cheek and wiping away that tear that had escaped without my permission with her thumb. She leaves a caress in my hair, very close to the bandage around my skull, and watches me as if I were made of glass.

Then she moves away, sits at my side, and turns. Now, her back is to me. Instead of annoying me, the gesture brings back memories that are becoming torturous and flowing so fast they burn; they consume and shatter me.

"Do you know who I am now?"

"Dakota Laurent," my voice keeps choking.

Ironic.

I wanted to tell her I didn't know her. I could do it and break her illusions, but this is Milan we're talking about. Besides, I'm the one lying on a damn stretcher, and she's the only person next to me.

Dakota laughs but without emotion.

"Then you'll know why my round of questions."

"You sounded like a stalker."

"This will sound terrible, but I tend to be terrible to those I care about."

"Do you want me to be honest?" I ask, still staring at the ceiling. I don't know how this ended up like this.

"I assume you're referring to the course of our conversation." She doesn't convey any emotion in his countenance. I was really hoping you would know more. I'm very desperate. People talk a lot for the sake of it. They repeat and repeat what they hear without stopping to think about it...

"Like you?" I ask.

"Think about how toxic they are - Ignore my question. Now I feel like I'm part of a horrible nightmare, Eron Montjoy. You will know very well that he was a ray of light for me. I told Milan more than once that I trusted you if he did. He, naive as he was, could not trust someone he shouldn't have."

"At that time, I complained to him because I didn't want him to tell me about my life," I said, taking a deep breath, my voice sounding shaky. It became the first and last fight we had.

For this reason, I wish with my soul to apologize to him.

"He told me. It was amazing how many words you could spit out per minute," she says, and I catch a half-smile out of the corner of my eye. "He apologized to you, didn't he?"

"He did."

"I can't believe she's not here anymore," she says. Discomfort washes over me as soon as I hear her sobbing.

"I don't want to believe it," I say instead.

I don't know what to add. It's hard for me to comfort people when they cry. What am I supposed to do? Give her words of encouragement? Tap her on the shoulder? Ask her to shut up?

How do you cheer up someone in your situation?

I admit I'm surprised to see her crying as if she hasn't been crying all this time, and maybe that's the case.

Still hesitant, I reach for my unconnected arm and rest my hand on her back. Then I begin a circling motion to comfort her and perhaps lift her spirits.

I hear her sobbing more, and the reflection forces me to pull my hand away. I guess I made a mistake.

"No, It's... it's all right," her breathy voice is directed at me.

Then, closing my eyes, I go back to what I was doing before. I squeeze another set of tears under my eyelids. Reality has shown me that I have not been the only one ignored and that others, perhaps, need me as I need them.

Hearing her murmur, Milan Montjoy's name leads me to release my own weeping.

×-×-×

Three days pass. An eternity passes.

Dakota Laurent has not left her position every night since I was interned here, regardless of my refusal to continue her conversations. My spirits and desire to talk faded with the chance of my abandoned piano being dusted off a long ago.

The girl leaves in the morning, comes in the afternoon to check my serum, and leaves again. In the end, she stays in the evening. She says nothing but looks exhausted; those curious eyes grow dimmer with each appearance she makes before me. I can tell even though she always curves her lips into a smile that seeks to calm me and hide her obvious disappointment.

It is not until today that she gives me a hint of her negative sentiment.

"Eron Montjoy," she utters as the sun sets on this day. I remain in my position without making any effort to open my eyes. I just listen.

What is that girl looking for?

"I return to the building." The mention of that place sends a shiver down my spine. "They refuse to tell me anything because I'm not a direct relative. Where are your relative's lives here, Eron?" I feel her approaching. If I open my eyes, I'll find her standing before me. "Why hasn't anyone come to visit you? I know you're listening."

"And I know I told you: do not meddle in my life."

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