Healing Hearts

21 || the truth

Emmalyn ⋆｡°✩

Melina and Elias decided to spend the night with us, and it turned into one of those unforgettable evenings filled with laughter and light-hearted jokes.

We all relaxed on the couch, reveling in the simplicity of just being together and enjoying each other's company. The jokes were silly, the laughter was contagious, and for that night, nothing seemed more perfect.

As the night passed by, we drifted off to sleep, nestled together on the big couch. The next morning, we woke up in a tangled mess of limbs, with all four of us having somehow managed to fall asleep in one spot. Melina and Elias eventually had to leave since they had plans for lunch with Melina's parents, which meant our cozy night was coming to an end.

I remained on the couch, my hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing one of Mateo's oversized T-shirts and some pyjama shorts he'd bought me the day before.

As Mateo lazily made himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, I sat there feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me. My emotions were a tangled mess.

Mateo had opened his home to me under circumstances that he barely understood.

All I had told him was that my dad had hurt me. He didn't know the details, yet he welcomed me with open arms, without a second thought. He even went out of his way to buy me new clothes, and I couldn't shake the guilt I felt about it. I wasn't sure how I could ever repay him.

Mateo had never mentioned the bruises or the pain I carried with me.

Instead, he distracted me by planning for Melina and Elias to come over, creating a diversion from the harsh reality of my situation.

Still, I could see the concern in his eyes whenever a sensitive topic came up. Even when we were laughing, there was a sadness in his gaze that he might think I didn't notice, but I did.

It scared me because he deserved to know the truth about who i really am, and the pain i've been holding for so long.

I glanced at my reflection in my phone and almost winced at the sight of the bruises.

A handprint was forming on my neck, a painful reminder of the moment when my dad had tightly gripped me.

Just then, Mateo returned from the kitchen and sat down close to me, placing his coffee on the small table beside the couch. His eyes, though momentarily reflecting concern, quickly masked it with a calm demeanor.

"Emmalyn," he began, his voice gentle but filled with a hint of worry that he tried to hide. I knew where this was headed.

"Don't," I said softly, shaking my head slightly as my breath grew shaky. His gaze was intense, and I could see the depth of his concern in his eyes.

"I want to help you, princess," he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. "Do you know how it feels to watch someone you care about suffer and not be able to do anything about it? It's awful. You're hurt, Emmalyn. I want to help you so badly, if you'll let me."

He stood up and moved closer, his presence making me feel both comforted and vulnerable.

Tears began to well up in my eyes as I realized he wasn't just talking about the physical bruises but the internal pain I'd been hiding for so long.