Camila knocked on the door and entered when she got the go ahead.
Santiago was holding a remote as he locked eyes with her. She smiled at him and looked away as she walked further into the room.
Santiago dropped the volume of the TV and placed the remote on the table beside him. He just watched every move of Camila, wondering what she was doing in his room.
"Joan isn't here," he said, the first thing that came to his head.
Camila chuckled and glanced at him. "I know, I just..." she trailed off, looking anywhere but at him. "I came to check how you're coping." She finally looked at him but avoided eye contact.
A look of surprise washed his face. He looked at her in disbelief because he knows how much they don't agree with each other.
"You don't have to act like you're surprised," she rolled her eyes and placed the small bag in her hand on the chair. "We're still family; no matter what, I still care about my family," she explained to him.
Santiago grinned. "That's sweet, thank you," he points at the bag. "Are there fruits in there?" he asked.
She nods, picking the bag up and bringing out a plate full of finely chopped fruits.
"Fruit salad," she wriggled the plate in front of him.
"You're a lifesaver, thank you," he stretched his hand to take the plate she gladly handed to him.
"I thought Joan brought you some," she asked when she saw how he rushed the fruit in his mouth. "You're eating like this is your first and last," she said disgustingly.
"Hey, I am cute when I eat this way," he defends, his brows furrowed. "And to answer your question, she did bring me something to eat. I just couldn't eat it after our little disagreement," he shrugged. "Before you go pinning this on me, it's not my fault."
"That you snatched her father's business from her?" She couldn't help herself.
Santiago stopped halfway; his eyes traveled to where she stood. He noticed her hands were on her hips as she glared at him with a flared nose.
"Not you accusing us for doing this again," he said, covering the plate and putting it on the table beside him. He frowned when he looked at her again. "I'm sure you're the one filling her with these lies," he points an accusing finger at her.
Camila blinked severally. "What? I only told them I saw you and your dad with Robbie; I didn't poison anyone's mind against you," she defends herself.
Santiago tore his eyes away from her, feeling a rush of anger wash over him. He never meant for this to happen in the first place.
"I was going to tell her what happened." He spoke after a moment, staring at his fingers like they were the most interesting thing in the world. "I never wanted her to find out this way," he said, looking at her.
"Why didn't you just tell her then?" Her face was clear of anger and replaced with concern. "She's my best friend; it would be bad if I didn't mention it to them. I held it for too long and just wanted them to know the truth."
Santiago shook his head. "It's fine; I understand why you told her," he says, looking away again, a frown on his face. "I will tell her when the time is right. I only told her what she needs to know now," he sighed.
"Is it enough?" Camila walked closer.
"For now, it is," he told her. "There are some things going on, and I want to get to the root of it; I just need more time till then." He lets out a tired sigh and leans back on the bed. He closed his eyes when he felt a headache coming. "Something isn't just right," he voiced out.
Camila turned away from him and closed her eyes as she tried to control her breathing. She opened her eyes and turned to look at him.
"I believe you," her voice was light as a feather. Santiago opened his eyes, so they met with hers. "I know you are a good person and a level-headed person. You wouldn't do anything to hurt my friend," she said with assurance, still maintaining eye contact.
"I will never," he promised.
Camila nodded her head and broke eye contact. "I will try to reach her; she might be at home trying to process this new information," she tells him. She picked up her small bag and pointed to the unfinished plate of fruit. "Make sure to eat that so it doesn't go bad," she turned and started walking to the door.
"Camila," she stopped when he said her name. She turned to look at him. "You're a good friend; thank you," he smiled.
Camila smiled and nodded, then turned back around to leave his hospital room.
Santiago picked up the fruit plate, finished the rest of the fruit, and placed the empty plate on the table. He switched off the TV and dimmed the light a bit to stop the ray of light from increasing his aching head.
...
"I don't care what they do!" Darken roared and walked out of the kitchen to the living room. Anger emanated from him as he stopped walking and turned to look at his worried mother. "I do not care, mother. He can go to hell for all I CARE!!!" he yelled, and she flinched.
"Darken dear," she starts, trying not to irk him. "You have to learn to use a calmer and kinder tone when talking, especially to-"
"You don't tell me how I speak, mother," he glared at her.
Ansel closed her eyes, took deep breaths, and slowly let it out. She opened her eyes to look at her son with kinder eyes.
"Darken, you don't speak to your mother like that. It's not nice," she corrects. "You should be careful of whatever you say; I don't care how angry you are; you should always make sure you don't say something that will implicate you," she cautioned him.
"He would have died; I don't care. He took everything I always wanted just because he could," he spat angrily. His eyes were red like he wanted to cry, and the veins showed on his forehead when he spoke, like they were going to pop anytime soon.
Ansel frowned when realization hit her. "It's because of Joan," she didn't have to ask.
"She just proved to be like the rest of them, a whore who would go for the money," his voice broke. "She married him for money," he cried.
Ansel felt sad to see her son this way. She knew he was obsessed with Joan but didn't think he loved her this much.
Darken groaned and walked to the sofa. He leaned forward, burying his face in his palms. His shoulders shook, a sign that he was crying.
Ansel walked over to sit beside him. She rubbed his back, supplying him comfort.
"You need to let go of her. She isn't worth anything," she tried to tell him.
"She's worth everything, mom," he burst out. He looked at his mom with teary eyes. "She's worth more than my life, mom." I love her dearly. Her parents never wanted her to be with me from the beginning. She wouldn't come back to me," he cried.
"You guys dated in college, doesn't mean it will work. It wasn't working from the start; you're just forcing things; that's why she left you and had a restraining order filed against you then." His mother spoke facts, and it angered him.
"I will not let go of her; I will fight till I get her back to myself and away from that wealthy bastard."
"This is not healthy for you."
"She is healthy for me; get her for me if you really want me to be okay." He stood to his feet and walked in the direction of the hallway.
"This boy has gone mad," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. Ansel jumped when she heard a door slam loudly.