The Blindside of Love (Camren) Altern Versión

Chapter 55

IM BACK ! I KNOW YOU ALL WANT CAMREN HAPPENING CUZ IS TAKING FOREVER I KNOW !!  TRUST ME WHAT I LOVE/HATE OF THIS STORY IS THAT IT SEEMS TO TAKE FOREVER FOR  ANYTHING BETWEEN THIS TWO  HAPPEN AND I HATE IT BUT THEN I REALIZE THAT IN REAL LIFE IT TAKES TIME FOR THINGS TO HAPPEN AND JUST RUSHING INTO THINGS WOULD'T  BE REALISTIC AND THIS STORY IS SOMEHOW REALISTIC.... I MEAN KIND OF WHO KNOWS ... ANYWAY IM GETTING SIDETRACKED... ENJOY 💖

Lauren stood in the doorway of her empty apartment and breathed in the stale aroma of solitude. There was something strangely alarming in the contrast between the busy city she'd left moments before, and the eerie silence of her badly decorated apartment.

For the first time since she'd moved in, the apartment's nakedness made her uncomfortable. She felt exposed, her emptiness reflected in the barren white walls and the expensive white carpeting that had nothing to show for itself but its delicate beauty. The only evidence of an existing personality hung in the walls of her bedroom, each expressing a delicate truth she couldn't quite understand.

Camila's paintings fascinated her; the purposeful use of texture and color, hiding the shadows that hovered behind like unspoken secrets.

The gentle brushstrokes and charismatic themes that struggled to reveal what they struggled to conceal.

Lauren entered her bedroom and stood before the paintings. She'd never had an appreciation for art before she'd encountered Camila's painting in the park.

They were beautiful, just like the hand that created them, and the body attached. But beyond that was the opportunity to find oneself reflected in the random patterns and perfect shapes.

She turned away, noticing for the first time the computer still resting where she'd left it. She was tempted to ignore it. But telling Normani everything only served to remind her of all she had lost. And in spite of Normani's kindness, words alone could not replace a friend.

The bed squeaked in protest against her added weight. She turned the screen to face her and glanced at the contents on the page. Her inbox contained three messages. Only one of which caught her eye.

Frowning, she checked the date. It had been sent earlier that day. For a moment, she considered the possibility that she'd accidentally left one of Camila's emails un-filed. But that couldn't be.

Her heart caught up to her thoughts, and then sped past them. She selected the message and an eternity later, the email opened on the screen.

Lauren read the words, her mind attempting to find a rational explanation.

A vague recollection loomed in her mind.

She'd handed Camila a copy of her first email. Was this Camila's response? Was this Camila's way of starting over? And if so, what did it mean?

After a moment, she hit reply:

Dear Camila(can I call you that?),

I sometimes have this feeling that the world sees through me. That they see only what they want to see, and dig only as deep as their misgivings will allow. I've often felt lonely in a crowd full of people. In moments when a million eyes are cast my way, I've struggled to find one pair among the many that see something the others do not see.

For the first time in a very long time, your painting made me feel understood. And I can't imagine anything more beautiful than the image of truth reflected and manifested in the empathetic visions of a stranger's mind.

Sincerely,

Lauren Jauregui Morgado

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