The Unlikely Love

11

VALERIA

As the door creaked open, I stepped into my home, the worn-out welcome mat beneath my feet a testament to the passage of time. I turned on the fan in the sitting room and listened to the soft hum filling the empty house. Although it was empty, I felt welcomed looking at the walls filled with family photographs. The loud laughter and boisterous conversations were still audible to me. The house was a bungalow with four bedrooms, each with its own story, whispered tales of joy, arguments, and dreams shared among all of us. My heart ached as I recalled all the beautiful memories and what had occurred presently.

The only meal I had eaten that day was the bowl of soup my boss offered me at the hotel, so I walked into the kitchen to help myself with something to eat, silently hoping that there was something in the fridge at least.

Sike.

The fridge was totally empty; there was only a bottle of orange juice, which had been there for a very long time. With a shrug, I grabbed it, along with a glass cup, and headed to the sitting room. At least it hadn’t expired.

I sank into the worn-out couch and looked at the dusty-looking television. If I’m being honest, I cannot remember the last time I turned on the television.

Above the television was a framed photo of us as a family, nailed to the wall. I found solace just staring at our smiling faces; we looked like they had no problems in the world. Our faces radiated warmth, a reminder of a time when the world seemed less daunting. I couldn’t help but drift back to the good times. That picture was taken at the beach, where we were making sandcastles, when a photographer came over and said he loved the vibe that came from all of us and offered to take pictures of us for free.

That was the last outing we ever went on as a family before the fatal accident.

Oh, how happy I was back then.

I poured the juice into the glass, tasted it, and squirmed at how bad it tasted—it was clearly going bad. I dropped the glass on the center table and sighed, laying my head all the way back, staring at the cobwebbed ceiling.

I couldn’t recall the last time the house had undergone a thorough cleaning. Yes, it was that horrible.

With a tired sigh, I walked into the kitchen, picked up the long broom, walked back to the sitting room, and started clearing out the cobwebs. I cleaned every nook and cranny. By the time I was done, my entire body was dusty, but it was over. Returning to the kitchen, I grabbed a cloth and some cleaning solution and proceeded to wipe down every surface in the sitting room, starting with the TV, naturally. I cleaned all the photos as well. The entire place was so dusty.

After that, I swept and mopped the entire room. The sitting room was spotless after roughly two hours.

Naturally worn out and filled with fulfillment, I collapsed back into the chair.

I thought of cleaning the rooms, but I was tired. I made a mental note to clean them some other time.

I was always fond of postponing cleaning my bedroom, and my mother had a serious issue with me because of that. I smiled at those times when we argued about the state of my room. She said it was embarrassing for me to be this beautiful but disorganized. My dad was always present to fight for me, while my sister always supported my mother. So there was that balance.

God, I missed those arguments. I would do anything to relive them over and over again, just to see them and to touch them.

I was experiencing extreme loneliness, helplessness, and fear. What to do about Nessa’s situation was beyond me.

Many thoughts were running through my head, particularly those involving my mother. She always gave me the best advice; she always knew what to say. If she were alive, she would have told me what to do in this situation. If she had figured something out, there is no way I would be in this predicament. She and my dad would have figured something out, no matter how hard it would have been. Still, she always had the ideal words for me.

She advised me to be Vanessa’s rock; it was one of the best pieces of advice I have ever heard, and it still stuck in my head.

She would always say, “You and your sister need to stay strong if something were to happen to me and your dad. Valeria, never fail to support one another, overcome obstacles, and never hesitate to do whatever it takes to provide for each other. Always be there for each other, Valeria. She is your only sister; never forget that.”

The memory of her words became a beacon of guidance in the midst of my turmoil.

In that quiet sitting room, I found myself standing at the crossroads of her teachings and the pressing reality of Vanessa’s dire situation. I bit my lower lip hard, and I recalled my boss’s proposition.

Actually, why did he put out that suggestion? What the hell was that?

Why marriage of all things??

Why?

I ran my fingers into my hair and groaned. It was so hard to decide, but I had to.

I couldn’t say yes to Terrence; I just couldn’t do that to him. I didn’t want to owe him. Of course he wasn’t going to care, but I didn’t want to do that.

I had the chance to pay this devil of a boss, and it wasn’t in cash. Thankfully, he did not ask me to be his s****l slave or something similar.

I sighed for the umpteenth time, recalling my mother’s words. She always advised me to be there for my baby sister, but if I chose to do this, would it be right? Would she have been proud of me? Would she?

Always be there for each other, Valeria.

Would it count as being there for Nessa if I made this choice?

I was doing this for Nessa, to save her life, and I had no other choice—even though it would only last for a year.

I sighed again; in fact, I had run out of sighs.

The weight of responsibility and the echoes of my mother’s wisdom compelled me to reconsider my boss’s offer. It became clear to me that, just as my mother had been there for us, I now had to find the strength to be there for my sister.

With a determined resolve, I decided to accept Mr. Adam’s proposition. The ticking clock on the wall seemed to synchronize with the beating of my heart, signaling a choice made not out of desperation but out of love and commitment to family.

“It is for a good cause,Valeria. It is for a good cause.” I kept soliloquizing repeatedly as my heart began to beat erratically with my eyes closed.