The Pursuit of Camila Cabello

Epilogue: Hyacinth

[2019, 25th November]

Camila was breathing hard, sending puffs of hot air into the cold air around her. She absentmindedly played with the stem she rolled between her fingers. If she had known how cold it was going to be that night, she would have worn gloves. Instead, the bitter cold had begun to numb her fingertips and stiffen her bones.

Still, she marched on with a fierce determination. It left a warm glow that settled in her chest. A soft defence against a bitter cold.

She moved quickly yet deftly, something she picked up from being a smuggler and dealer for so many years. Of course Julian had wanted her to be more active within the business and for a while she was. She attended many events and acted as some sort of emissary. But she seemed to age a lifetime in only a decade. Eventually, now in her early thirties, she mellowed down the ranks to a humble dealer of narcotics.

She had never come here before; she had been afraid of what waited further inside. But, like always in her life, duty overcame fear. She needed to do this, needed to tie up her last loose end. She deserved that much.

Finally, she found what she was looking for. As it came into her line of sight, Camila froze. There it was. Just sitting there. Waiting. For her? It felt like that. She could feel the bile rise in her throat and honestly she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run far from there.

But she wouldn't. No, not from this. She had run from a lot of things in her life but this would not be one of them. So, gritting her teeth, she marched over quicker to her target.

The words on the headstone were worn slightly but Camila expected that: it had been almost decade after all. But she could easily make out the words:

Here lies,

LAUREN JAUREGUI

Dearly beloved

Camila felt her knees buckle before she dropped to the floor. Here she was. For almost a decade, here she had laid. Camila remembered how beautiful she had looked in her casket. She had to attend the funeral for appearances' sake but she had fled before they could lower her into the ground. Most assumed it was because she had been an ex-lover and couldn't handle the sight. No one knew that it was because she was drowning in guilt.

After all, she murdered the love of her life for honour.

Kneeling before the headstone, Camila felt a wild smile grow on her face. There was no mirth in the action, just an overwhelming sense of hindsight. She gave so much up for honour that never meant anything in the end.

She felt something brush her hand. Slowly, she looked down and found the flower she had been carrying had slipped from her grasp. She dove and scooped the flower off of the cemetery floor. She checked for any blemish on the petals and was relieved in finding nothing.

Camila shook her head and firmly grasped the stem in her small hand. She wobbled to her feet and stepped over to the side of the grave. She sat down near the headstone, legs thrown over the side and body facing the headstone.

Gently, carefully, she placed the Hyacinth atop the worn headstone.

Pulling her hand away, she noticed how the purple flower seemed to give life and energy to the over wise dreary place. It made her want to cry: she shouldn't have been buried here. Her life was full of passion and grandeur — to be buried in this drab place... it was criminal. But then again, the dead couldn't complain.