26 - Fear

                                    

                                          
***I will explain why this is late but I don't wanna overshare. Also, this is so ugly. I rushed dis and I still don't proofread cause I barely have time. Forgive the unfinished sentences, I'll address them when I do the final editing one day. PS: It's a long one. 16,564 words
                          
            
                          
Luca was keeping secrets. 
                          
Some are more trivial than others; like the time he said he preferred tea over coffee because a client was excitedly sharing her newfound love for green tea but her struggle to sound convincing was excruciating, or when he told Elf he would take him to see his Auntie Milo but didn't, offering some nonsense about the woman being too occupied with her waitressing job. 
                          
In essence, they were lies; some sort of shield to protect him from the wrath of the truth while unknowingly digging his own grave too deep that it was almost impossible for him to climb out. 
                          
Then again, he wasn't the only one with skeletons in the closet. And he knew one secret that wasn't his; his wife's. However, the specifics to said secret remained a mystery.
                          
Still, he didn't expect any less from his enigmatic wife. 
                          
It was a Thursday night, two weeks since the desperately overdue and desperately strenuous conversation and it was how the former couple expected it to be; exhausting well beyond the physical aspect. Camila never got to ask if she could spend the night or worry about her irate husband or a crestfallen Milo as she fell asleep in Lauren's arms on the small couch, stripes of tears marring her cheeks. 
                          
And Lauren held her, guarded her from the world for the night even if her own eyes continued to spill and write her unspoken agony on her skin; even if no one was there to protect her from herself – from seeing a highly unlikely future beyond the tangles of their present.
                          
It was the kind that translated to Camila running back to her when she's all patched up. 
                          
Lauren would never admit it, but her back and neck ached for nearly three days at her awkward position. It helped that Camila wasn't around long enough the next day to notice. She only stayed for breakfast after receiving a phone call from the investment firm regarding her impending quarter year meeting. The caller, the manager's secretary, brought her attention to the two e-mails they sent that cited particulars of the session amongst a menagerie of other correspondence.
                          
That was the first of three separate sets of conferences that she had to attend to for the three different companies she offered her counsel to. Camila was bound to leave yet again for the final one for the next three months at the crack of dawn.
                          
But until then, she chose to spend her time with Lauren.
                          
"Hey." Lauren spoke, propped up against the headboard atop the covers as Camila reentered the room with a glass of water. 
                          
"Hey." Camila grinned, as bright as ever. Her spirit was light and it was apparent in the way she playfully nudged her brows; a generous sliver of the girl Lauren knew. "How's it going?"
                          
"Good." Lauren let out a quiet chuckle but amusement was quickly snatched away as a question popped in her head. "Did you set your alarm yet? It's one thirteen and you have to be out here before four. I have no idea how anything could wake you."
                          
"Don't worry about it. I got it." Camila appeased, gratified with the thought that Lauren cared about her.
                          
"How long will you be gone this time?"
                          
"I'll be back Saturday night like the last two weekends." 
                          
Camila didn't think much of Lauren's question, occupied with flicking the light off and turning the night lamp on after resigning her clear beverage on the overflowing desk close by. Despite Lauren's qualms, she didn't seem to mind the mess in front of her concealing most of the laminated particle board surface. Cellphones and keys, books and documents, perfumes and moisturizers to the lighting fixture were all in a haphazard mix telling of Lauren's chaotic personal life – and the desperate scarcity of furniture in her apartment.