Azalea Rose Willow loves three things above everything else:
summer, the only season that mattered in her mind.
singing, alongside the comforting embrace of her guitar.
but above all, the easy camaraderie with the boy who lives next door to her, and...
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Azalea groaned as she woke up with a killer headache. The bright morning light pierced through the curtains, intensifying the pain.
She mentally slapped herself, she's never drinking that much again.
The memories of the previous night slowly came back to her, and she couldn't help but smile, despite the throbbing headache.
Azalea's heart swelled with a mixture of emotions – a sense of joy mingled with a touch of apprehension. She sat up, her mind racing with thoughts and emotions. She replayed the night's events in her mind, reliving Finnick's words, his tender touch, the way his presence had ignited a warm glow within her heart.
The realization that Finnick loved her, truly and deeply, filled Azalea with a profound sense of happiness. She had found love, a love that had blossomed amidst the harsh realities of their world, a love that promised a future filled with hope and companionship.
She turned to the side, to find Finnick was gone already. Was what she heard yesterday real or did she imagine it?
No, he definitely said it. She remembered that much.
She sighed, knowing that that Finnick's confession had been a moment of vulnerability, a spontaneous outpouring of emotions that he might not have been ready to fully confront.
She understood now his hesitation something she didn't before, his fear of rejection, his desire to protect their close bond. He was comfortable in what they had now. He didn't want change.
As the first rays of sunlight pierced the darkness, casting a warm glow upon Azalea's room, her father, Tomas, quietly entered, his presence stirring her from her slumber. Azalea, still groggy from the previous night's revelry, feigned nonchalance, hoping to mask the lingering effects of her secret indulgence.
"Good-morning Flor. How was yesterday?" Tomás asked his daughter casually.
Tomas obviously noticed Azalea's groggy state and the faint aroma of alcohol lingering in the room. He raised an eyebrow but decided not to address it directly. He had other plans for addressing it.
"It was... fun, Dad. Just hung out with my friends," she replied, trying to sound nonchalant.
"Well just so you know, we have training in 30 minutes," Tomás grinned, knowing that it would be a struggle for Azalea being hangover, but wanted to teach her a lesson about drinking.
She knew her father's seemingly innocuous order was a thinly veiled punishment for her indiscretion. The prospect of facing grueling physical exertion while battling a throbbing hangover was daunting, but she knew she had no choice but to comply. Azalea groaned, laying her head in her pillow again. "Can't we just skip today?"
Tomás laughed, as he exited her bedroom. "You're funny. Be down in 25."
Azalea sighed, going over to her bathroom and taking some painkillers to help her get through training. She splashed water on her face, hoping to dispel the cobwebs in her mind and steady her shaky legs. As she prepared for training, her thoughts drifted to Finnick, recalling his whispered confession of love from the previous night. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a flicker of joy amidst the impending ordeal.
