Maven and Adrianna were like the sun and the moon. Their paths were meant to cross but not to sync eternally.
Both from prominent wealthy families separated by hatred and vendetta, they should've left it at that. But fate has a funny way to let them...
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It broke me.
It took me several attempts to find the spare key of her room before I finally opened the door. And when I turned the knob, I froze.
The sight of my mother in her wedding gown, crying in her bed while she tipped up the bottle of Merlot straight into her mouth, was a sight to behold. It broke me some more when I saw her face, her mascara cascading down in a mess, her hair was pulled on top of her head in a fail attempt of a chignon, she cried some more, her eyes glued to the flat screen TV by the wall as she watched the clips of her wedding.
She's at it again.
It wasn't the first time but it didn't lessen the pain by just looking at her. It was a sight to behold, Stella Henderson-Sobreviñas, former Miss International, once the face of every endorsing products, once whose face was all over the gigantic build boards in EDSA, once known as the most beautiful woman alive, at its lowest point as she drowned herself to oblivion.
It wasn't surprising that she hadn't felt my presence yet as She continued to sip the blood red liquid straight from the bottle. I saw four more bottles scrambling around the floor, the fifth one was now half-filled as she tipped it up to her lipstick-smudge mouth and soon the alcohol-induced coma wasn't far behind.
I made my way inside and sat by her bed, the cushion giving out while I looked at the video. I have seen it before but it still mesmerized me every time. My mother was so young, so beautiful in her wedding gown.
Standing close beside her as he held my mother's hand was my father. It was unbelievable how my father could looked at my mother that way—as if she held his whole world in her hands. No matter how many times I've seen the video, it baffles me how my father was capable of doing such.
My Dad, looking like the younger version of Elliot in the clip, was the same as he smiled down at my mother -- Both of them facing the altar this time. They looked happy and for a moment, I was too. It was such a dream wedding—full of color, shimmer, grandeur and a promise of happily ever after.
Who would've thought after fifteen years of being married together, it will end up in nothing but a nasty separation, broken vows and dreams. It had been ten years now and it would've been their 25th silver wedding anniversary today.... If not for Camilla.
I turned to my mom as I watched her tipped the Merlot to her mouth and wiped the smear of her lipstick with the back of her white-gloved hand. Her eyes fluttering close as she sobbed some more. And then like she had done a hundred of times while eyes now looking at the video, she muttered the part of her wedding vow mimicking her younger self in the video like she had done thousand of times before.
"Armand, I love you and I accept you for the person that you were and are right now and that, I do not wish to alter you based on a stereotypical standards." My mother sniffed but her tears were ruthless, slipping more down from her ducts to her cheeks "I love you that I don't expect a perfect person—just you. I love you and I will stand by you through the worst times. I love you even in our worst nights, even on our worst fights, even in your bad mood, or even when you're tired." She hastily wiped the tears with the back of her hand and began to sob, her chest heaving as she did
