3 months later...
MIRANA
I was watering in the garden when a doorbell rang. Well, Mom went to the market today. I wonder who the visitor is, whether Marco or whether his shrimp.
When I opened the gate, I exclaimed with delight.
"Ah! Cel!" I shouted with the jump.
"Seriously?"
"Cello, how did you find me? Did you know how I miss you so much? You didn't even make me a call at all," I whispered and laughed.
"Won't you just let me in? Should we just go outside and have a good time?" he sarcastically said.
"You are serious. Come on in," I admitted immediately but he had something in his eyes and he seemed very serious right now. He was a man of his shape, bearing, and speech.
"You sit down here first, I'll just get you a drink and let's talk right away."
"Don't bother Mirana, I have something to tell you," he said seriously as I doubted. Is he in trouble?
I sat down next to him.
"I'm not the person you thought you were before."
"What?"
"Listen to me first," my heartbeat suddenly as he looked me in the eyes. I see a different Cello.
"I'm not gay as you think Mirana. I know I lied to you but the day you saw me It was just an accident. I hope you can forgive me."
"At first Cello I was worried about whether you were gay but whatever you are I accept it," I replied.
"It's very unfortunate that you can be gay in such a physical way."
"I'm serious."
"Why are you telling me this now?"
"I love you Mirana."
I was startled as soon as I heard those words.
"Cello," that is all I can say after he confesses his feelings.
"Mirana, I am sorry that I had lied. I regret all Mirana."
"Tell me everything about you Cello," though I was also surprised by the words coming out of my mouth. This is exactly what I wanted to know. I was a bit surprised by his sudden confession.
"Christian, Christian De Luca is my real name," I was surprised to say, he was the son of a very wealthy man, the owner of the most famous Hotel overseas now known anywhere.
"I didn't make Cello, that's the nickname Mom gave me because of my deceased sister. She called me Cello as my nickname because she saw my sister in me. I tell you all this because I love you Mirana. Believe it or not, I love you. I only found out when Marco took you home. "
"Christian De Luca, your name is too expensive," I joked that I also laughed a lot because he said so much that I just paid attention.
"Mirana," he sternly said as if irritated.
"I don't know what I'm going to say, just think if you're in my situation," I sighed. He looked me in the eye and his gaze dropped to my stomach.
"Have you done your check up?" he asked, which made my heart whimper in pain.
"I was only here for the health of the child, and after my child was born I didn't know what was going to happen. There was no hope for Marco, so much for what I had done to him."
"Months?"
"8 months," I shed tears as I uttered those words.
It's been a long time. I've been here for a long time.
Several women and Marco brought him to his house. How many times has he called me a helper to every woman he brings. I heard noises in the room that were loud throughout the house. Some days I cry, some days I suffer from my sins. So I wish I could leave this house but I couldn't do anything because of my womb. Every day, hour and second I will take care of my child.
"Mirana," Marco called me in a slurry voice.
"Marco, you're wasted. I'll get you up to your room."
"Don't! Don't touch me! You slut! You whore! Bitch!"
"Marco," I stopped crying.
"I don't even know if that child you are bearing is mine. Slut!"
"Watch your words Marco."
"Why? What are you going to do? Slap me? Then do it."
"Marco"
"If you can't, you might be the one I'll slap,"
"I'll help you get to your room," when I was about to touch him a slap hit my cheek that made me fall to the floor.
"Don't touch me, filthy bitch. I can do it myself, abort that child. I can never love you again. you too. Take care of your child. Whore. "
"Mirana are you with me? Are you okay?"
"Y-yes"
"I'm here to get you. Come with me."
"Cello"
"I can take what you bring, this is not the life you always wanted, Mirana.
I know you regret the things you did before, I know you want to start over. Come with me, leave him and be with me. "
"Cello"
"No," someone whispered in a very cold voice and traced the authoritative tone.
"Marco"
