TIFFIN 2

8

Hey everyone! I have to be honest. While writing this [yes I may be extremely dramatic] but I actually cried 😭😭 that is all.
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I nearly fell to my knees. 

"Hero?"

As I dropped my purse to the ground, I saw that he wasn't the only person in the room.

 That damned woman- Emma- was sitting on one of my beds politely, with several papers surrounding her.

She wasn't dressed like a homeless woman now that I saw her. She looked clean, dressed in a jacket and a pair of leggings. 

It had only been a few hours since I'd seen Hero, but my body still came alive at the sight of him. His hair was a mussed mess, but it only made him hotter. 

He wore a white shirt, which was out of character for him, that allowed me to see each and every tattoo etched underneath.

How I wanted to run a finger over them-

No. I couldn't think like this. I was still mad at him. 

"What are you doing here?" I shouted, uncomfortable with the situation.

"I had to come to see you." Hero answered honestly. 

"Yes," I snapped, "I figured that. I meant, how did you get in? I have the key."

Hero sighed. "My mother knows a few people."

I folded my arms, glaring at the sight of Emma once more. 

"Care to explain why you brought her here? I made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with her!"

Here he was, yet again, making me do something I didn't want to do. 

"Would you just hear her out?" Hero begged, making me go soft in the knees. "Do you think I would let anyone live if they were lying about this?"

My face went blank. He did have a point.

Hero grabbed my arm, dragging me to a corner of the room. 

"I saw it," He whispered, "Every document. She has it all."

I stared into his eyes. This was a man I couldn't dare to look away from. Even though he did fuck up, I wanted this moment to last between us forever.

"Okay," I replied, "I'll agree to be cordial."

Emma clasped her hands together as I swiveled around to face her. She brushed her hands over her leggings as she stood.

"I won't ask you to trust me," She said, "As far as you're concerned, I'm some freak- I'm sure if it wasn't for Hero, here, you would have called the front desk. All I'm asking is for you to look at these documents. It says a lot more than I can."

Emma stepped away as I made my way over to the bed. It was somehow more intense with the only available light coming from my lamps.

The first pieces I set my hands on were two photos of what looked like Emma around my age now, holding a baby in a hospital bed. 

Then, next to the photos were a few wristbands. 

One read:

Dr. Malcolm.

Community Medical Hospital.

DOB: Jan. 15. 2002.

Kristina Wright.

I knew that none of this really meant anything, but I couldn't help but feel the swell of emotion within me. I would have been lying if I said I wasn't hoping that everything Emma said was true.