It was laughable to think that the great and almighty Racel Ivory Gutierrez was afraid of love. Yes, out of all the dangerous and scary things in this world, the thing that Racel hates the most was . . . is love. He feared it, he loathed it, and even despised it. Who would've thought? Who would've thought that someone like him was afraid of the crazy little thing called love? Something that can neither be touched nor seen, something that he knew he once had, but is unable to determine just how long that time have been.
But, really? The fear of love? It hasn't always been that way. No, it hasn't always been that way.
Before he feared love, he revered it first. He loved to be loved and he loved to love. He once basked in the attention and love he received: from his parents, from his friends, from everyone around him. He loved to received and he loved to give. Love . . . It came naturally to him. It was natural for him.
He didn't know when it started or how it started. He didn't know when he started to fear it. He didn't want to know. But he did. Oh yes, he did. He remembered exactly when it happened. He remembered exactly who and what happened. He remembered everything. And the knowledge, it hurt, it hurt so much.
It all started on his sixth birthday. It was also his parent's wedding anniversary then. And as usual, everyone gushed and told them what a wonderful coincidence it was. How wonderful it was to celebrate their wedding anniversary and their son's birthday in the same date! At that time, it was. But Racel would later on realize how wrong they were. It wasn't wonderful. It wasn't the least bit wonderful. For it only served as a painful reminder of what he once had and what he lost . . . a very painful reminder.
It was the first birthday his father wasn't able to attend. It was the first wedding anniversary that his father wasn't able to celebrate with his mother. It was the first. And unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last. Because years, and years, and years would come before they realized that his father would never come home.
For he had run off, he had run off with his other woman, another woman other than his wife, another woman other than his mother.
At first, he didn't realize the impact of what his father had done. He was too young back then. Too young to realize his father's betrayal, too young to realize his mother's pain, too young to realize his loss . . . He was just too young then. But sadly, he wasn't that young. He wasn't that young to realize how the love he was once showered with suddenly disappeared. It just suddenly disappeared. It just disappeared. And it not only hurt him, it traumatized him too.
How could such a possibly strong feeling be there one second and be gone the next? How can a wonderful feeling such as love be able to breed sadness and even hatred? That was when Racel realized how fragile the thing called love was. It was so fragile that even a single, soft flick of a finger can shatter everything this so called love held.
And he saw it first-hand. He saw first-hand how this love shattered the woman he remembered as his mother, the woman named Mylla Alexandra, the woman who was once so strong, so beautiful, so kind, so loving, so full of life.
A/N: I'm very sorry for the late update. I'm sorry for making you wait for the next part, but, here it is! I hope that you enjoyed it, and don't forget to Vote ⭐️, Comment and Share. The next update will be posted shortly.
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Yours truly, Azrael
Short StoryHe smile, but he wants to cry. He talk, but he wants to be quiet. He pretend that he's happy, but he isn't.
