4. Bona fide

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In good faith

In good faith

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Was it the way the air lifted her hair or the chill that seeped through her bones? One thing was certain: Julie Molina was not okay.

She had put her trust in her man, believing in him when no one else did. She was perhaps the only person in the world who truly understood his convoluted thinking, but still, sometimes he could even surprise her.

Flashback

"You're sure about this, Luke? It's not too late to back off.", her voice slipped like a whisper. She bit my nails in agony, taking deep breaths. "Oh come on Jules, don't tell me you're scared."

In an almost mockery way, the certainty of his idea seemed to still exist. She sighed again. "Maybe, I don't know. It's just-", the fear of admitting her doubts paralyzing her. But if there was any chance to prevent the impending chaos Luke had planned, she'd grasp it. "They've started to grow on me. They seem nice."

The boy seemed in disbelief, a bitter laugh escaping his lips, "You're serious now? We've come this far, and you want to stop because of what? Because they're nice?", she had already regretted her choice of words." We're thieves Julie, that's what we do. We steal and we leave. We don't pick up the mess we leave behind us."

"Don't raise your voice at me.", she demanded, remarkably calm. A tense silence fell between them, broken only by his weary sigh., " You're right, I'm sorry."

He was stressed, running on fumes after days without sleep. Every night, he envisioned his plan, dissecting each scenario for potential failures. The bags under his eyes deepened with each passing day. Worst of all, he was alone. His beloved Julie was far away, and there was nothing he could do about it. That's how it had to be. And he hated it.

"I guess they're kind of nice.", he muttered, the words sounding more like a question "Just please, give all this a chance Jules. Please.", he begged her.

Julie had one weakness in this world, Luke. If he told her to jump off a cliff, she'd do it with no second thought torturing her mind. She loved that boy more than herself, and that'd be her downfall.

"Fine. One chance. But if things get worse, we leave. Immediately."

End of Flashback

———————

Julie

I always hated art—except music, of course. Painting was the worst. My hands never seemed steady enough to draw a line or fill gaps with color. It felt absurd to follow specific lines just to achieve a pretty outcome.

In school, my art teacher always complained to my parents. I loathed that woman. She wanted us to follow her instructions blindly. While everyone else drew houses, flowers, their families—I drew storms and waves, using only the darkest palette. They told me those images weren't age-appropriate, making me believe I was problematic. All because of that teacher.

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