37 days: Holding on 2 broken promises

Perspectives

POV
Millie

"Hey, Steph? I'm going to go see my old neighbors in about an hour," I say handing her phone back to her.

"Okay, sure. I think I'll drop by my parent's house while you do that then." She explains.

I nod my head.

Ugh, I have nothing here! All of my stuff is still in the penthouse. I guess I'll have to go there in my current messy state.

...

After about 45 minutes of sitting mostly in silence with Steph in the hotel room, I decide it's time to head out.

We both walk down together to the cars.

I point to the car that Steph walks to, "Um, whose car is that..?" I ask.

"Mia's," she says proudly.

"She knows what happened?" I ask.

Steph shakes her head, "no."

...

I drive to my old apartment complex, making it there within ten minutes.

It's incredible really, a few weeks ago I hated this place and loved driving away from it with the intent of never returning.

As I drive into the complex parking lot, it really doesn't seem so bad.

Perspective.

Perspective is everything, something I once hated, honestly is a dream compared to the house that sits on Sunset Avenue.

I park my car in visitor parking, walk the distance to the entrance, and make my way up to apartment 512.

I reach Mr. Daniels's apartment door and give it a knock. I pray to the good lord that I don't accidentally cry like a baby in front of them.

"Pull yourself together Millie," I tell myself.

The door opens and Mr. Daniels stands on the other end.

He embraces me in a hug, "It's so good to see you again Millie! Thank you for coming, come on in!" He gestures.

I walk in behind him.

"Isabella!" Mr. Daniels calls out for his daughter.

"She's been hiding out in her room a lot," he explains with distress in his voice.

More sadness falls over me when he says that.

Isabella comes out, beautiful as ever but definitely has a shifted look on her once happy-go-lucky face.

She runs over to me when she spots me, "Millie!" She squeals.

"Hi Izzy, I missed you!" I say hugging her.

"I missed you too," she says in her little voice.

For the first time today, I actually smile and it's genuine. This is just what I needed.

"I think I'm going to go take a walk," Mr. Daniels says and I know that's the cue to pry his daughter for information.

"Take your time," I say.

I have no idea how to approach this situation. I'm not used to having a conversation with a child, let alone an apparent sad one.

"What do you wanna do?" I ask cheerfully, even though I'm not, due to my own circumstances.

She shrugs her shoulders.

Great start...

"Can you paint my nails?" She finally asks.