Ethan's POV
We talked over and over, trying to figure out this mess. A crazy idea even popped into my head – maybe it was just a prank for some article. My mind was racing. Eliza looked even more upset than I felt, maybe she had a closer thing with Arthur. I was feeling a mix of annoyed and confused. When I stopped the bike at Eliza's, she just hopped off and walked towards the house, just saying "Goodnight." I knew the diary was with her; she grabbed it while I was riding.
"Hey, the diary?" I asked, not really knowing what I wanted to say.
She turned and looked right into my eyes without a word. Then, she gently pressed her lips to my cheek. It was a soft touch, a fleeting warmth that left the scent of vanilla lingering in the air. It was a sweet, familiar smell, something that usually calmed me. But right now, it only made the knot of confusion in my chest tighten. It wasn't a passionate kiss, more like a quick, comforting gesture. A part of me, the frustrated, confused part, wished her lips had lingered, had found mine. Maybe that small connection could have chased away some of the anger bubbling inside me.
"Hey, listen," she said, her voice soft but serious. "I know what you're thinking. I don't want you to read it alone, not even one page. Let's read it together so we don't have any misunderstandings between us."
"I was thinking the same thing," I replied, my voice a little rough, "but that doesn't mean I thought you were hiding it. I have to trust you, Eli." Deep down, a worry gnawed at me. I knew she would read it, not out of curiosity, but to prepare herself for whatever shock or hurt the words inside might bring.
"Hey, let's just stay at my house tonight," she suggested, her eyes searching mine.
"I don't want to give your mom more reasons to not like me," I said, the awkwardness of the situation pressing down on me.
"I'll handle her. We've been together for six years, come on," she said, trying to sound sure.
I knew her mom would probably be upset, and I didn't want to cause more trouble.
"I know, Eli, but I can't stay," I said, the words feeling heavy. This whole thing felt unsteady, and she already looked so vulnerable. "Look, I can stay, but if your mom gets angry and you two start fighting, we agreed I would leave, right? You shouldn't have to argue with her because of me."
"Fine," she agreed, but I could hear the disappointment in her voice.
I parked the bike, the click of the kickstand echoing in the quiet. As I walked into her familiar hallway, she handed me a cool glass of water. The unspoken need to know what was in that diary hung between us, thick and heavy. She asked if I wanted to shower, and I realized I probably smelled like sweat and worry. I did, and then she did too. We ended up sitting on the floor in her bedroom, leaning against the wall by her bed. It was a familiar, safe spot. She picked up the worn diary, and with a shared, nervous breath, I opened it. A wave of anticipation and dread washed over me. What secrets were hidden within these pages? What would they reveal about Arthur, about Eliza, about us?
Arthur
Dear Diary,
I LOVE ELIZA.
That day was my first real experience of a hospital. Everyone was rushing around. My mom was anxious, asking about room details at the application office. We took some stairs and found room 306, the one Mom was looking for. When we entered, the room was already full of people, laughing and talking about a baby. My aunt handed the baby to my mom. Mom's eyes sparkled as if she were holding something precious. I stood on my tiptoes to get a peek.
Realizing I was trying to see, she pulled a chair over for me, and I sat beside her.
"She's so cute," I said.
"Isn't she?" Mom replied.
After school, I would always run to her house to play. Mrs. Hawthorne would often leave Eliza with me. It felt like a responsibility, like I had to protect her, and that she was mine forever. I loved being with her. I didn't have many other friends, but I had her. She was my everything, though I didn't fully understand it then. As time went on, I realized she wasn't just a part of my life; she was my life.
We went to school together, had lunch, and even dinner at Mrs. Hawthorne's house. Eliza always showed me her new toys, and for some reason, my opinion mattered most to her. She even helped me learn how to braid her hair. It was more for her benefit, but I kind of liked it. Things started to change when I entered the 7th standard. Money became a big problem in our lives.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
School became a nightmare. All the kids seemed happy to bully me. It always reminded me that if I had a dad, they probably wouldn't do that. My mom worked at a bakery. I was never ashamed of what she did. I loved her work and her love for bread. All she needed was a kitchen with an oven and enough ingredients to be the happiest woman in the world, but we didn't have the money to build our own house.
I started to resent her job. I asked her what I could do to make her quit. After overhearing some kids at school talking about my mom, their comments changed me: "Look at her, trying to flirt with men who come into the shop. Oh my god, that's how women love money; they'll do anything laughs." I wish I hadn't heard any of it.
As things got tougher, I rarely went to see Eliza. She had friends now anyway. Playing with boys was probably boring for her. She always tried to hang out with her girl gang. I hoped she was having more fun in life; she deserved it. As I was thinking this, I realized our distance was growing day by day. Then something happened.
She was growing up so fast. No, the days were going by so fast. I hadn't realized she was in 8th standard now. It was her birthday, and there was an evening party. Everyone was invited. She was so happy, but I didn't understand her obsession with pink. The entire decoration, her dress, and her cake were all pink. When would she get over this? Every girl goes through this stage, I knew that after dating Henna in my 10th standard.
I had recently gotten into photography, for no particular reason, and thankfully, I became Eliza's personal photographer. Whenever she wanted a good photo, she asked me to take it with my camera. Even without her asking, I had brought my camera to her party. I started taking her picture, as always. She looked happy while cutting the cake after making her wish. She seemed so genuine then. Everyone else felt fake compared to her. She was real, and I loved her so much. I felt like I could spend all day just looking at her. Everyone was enjoying their snacks and drinks, gossiping.
The room was now more crowded, and the birthday girl was having fun on the dance floor. Her pink frock suited her.
I helped distribute drinks for a while and then took a break.
I noticed Eliza was nowhere to be seen. As I passed through the crowd, I saw her on a sofa in a corner, like she was avoiding people. I went over to her and asked if she wanted a drink. She uncomfortably declined. I took another sofa chair beside her and leaned close to her ear. "You can tell me if something is wrong," I said, concerned. Her eyes filled with tears.
Why was she crying? Had someone bullied her?
"Hey, did someone say or do something?" I asked. She avoided my gaze.
"What happened?" I asked again, worried.
"My stomach," she whispered.
"Is it hurting?" I asked, relieved it wasn't about others but still worried.
"Yes, so much, and it's this..." Tears streamed down her cheeks. Everyone else was busy talking, no one noticed my anger. She was having her first period. What did I do now? Her mom was busy with some shareholders.
"It's normal, Eli, don't worry," I said, covering her lap with a pillow.
"I'm scared. I feel weird. Can you bring my mom?" she asked.
"Yeah, sure, wait here," I said, immediately standing up, but she held my hand.
"I'm scared. What if my friends come near and ask about it? Please do something," she said. So that's why she was hiding in the corner, because of her friends.
"Then just come with me. Hold this blanket around your waist and follow behind me," I said, knowing she didn't want to be noticed by anyone right now. She just stood up and looked at the stain on the sofa.
"I'll take care of it later, come on," I said, reassuring her. She followed closely behind me, and I led her up the stairs to her room.
"Go to the washroom and clean yourself. I'll get your mother, okay? Don't worry, you can lock the door. Nobody enters this room, right? So it's fine," I said to her.
"Thanks," she said, still avoiding my eyes.
I left the room and searched for her mom. Thank God, I found her immediately, but how to tell her was the real issue. I waited for my mom and asked her to tell Eliza's mom.
I hoped they would explain it to her clearly. She was already so scared. I got busy helping with storing gifts in a bag.
Later, my mom came to me and said, "Eliza wants to talk to you."
"Is everything okay?" I asked.
"Yes, actually, I told her mother. She just asked me to take care of it since she's busy with some business stuff. So I explained it to Eliza first. She was shocked at first, but then she understood, and then she asked for you," she said.
I stood there, trying to process everything, and just nodded. How could her mom leave her like that? Anyway, let's just go with things.
I went upstairs to see her.
"What are you laughing about?" Eliza started yelling, her voice sharp.
I couldn't stop the laughter bubbling up. They were so serious about the situation. Menstruation was common, right?
"How could you not know anything about it in the first place?" I managed to say between giggles.
"I don't know. In my friend circle, I was the first," she answered, clearly frustrated.
We both looked at each other, and the laughter died down. I knew what she was thinking about. The struggles he faced in his school life. They were poor, that was the first thing that came to my mind, and now the wealth... it was all because of Arthur. Now I understood why Mrs. Hawthorne was so keen on making Arthur her son-in-law.
"Does he share these kinds of issues with you? It seems you've gotten close after this whole menstruation thing," I said jokingly, nudging her.
"Cut it out. He's never shared anything personal about himself. He always just asks if I'm happy," she said, a hint of softness in her voice.
"Let's see then, why do you want to talk to him?" I teased. She suddenly grabbed the book from my hands.
"What?" I asked, surprised.
"I don't want you to read the next part," she mumbled, holding it tightly.
"Okay, that's suspicious. Now I really want to read it..." I said, reaching to snatch the book back. She looked utterly embarrassed. What was it now?
Continued...