"Hmm, why do you look like you've gone through a world war?"
I see a pair of steel grey eyes staring at me, curious. Long lashes, plump skin, full pink lips, and shiny golden blonde hair framing her face like art come to life.
"Fuck off, Betty." I groan, closing my eyes. My head dangles off the couch edge, legs thrown over the side.
Didn't even bother changing before crashing here.
"Something happened, right? Did you get…" a wicked grin spreads across her face, making me groan internally, "…a kis—"
Thud.
Before she can finish, I throw a pillow at her. She yelps, stumbling back and landing on her butt.
"Owww, Nini—why the fuck are you so violent!" she whines. I feel no remorse since her cursed intuition hit straight at the reason behind my brain crash.
Kiss.
Ughhh—
My body shivers, goosebumps rising at the memory of the rooftop.
"UGHHHHH! WHY ME!!!" I scream into the pillow, face burning from the memory of his arms around me, lips brushing my temple, those firm words that broke me like a child.
"Jesus, calm down, woman!" Beatrix gasps, tugging the pillow away. She studies me, brows furrowed.
"Instead of yelling, why don't you share—"
"I am fucked, Beatrix Wolff!" I groan dramatically, sitting on my heels. Fingers rake through my hair, and I let out a sob.
"I CRIED IN THE ARMS OF MY DEPUTY VP WHOM I KNOW FOR TWO DAYS!!!" My face turns tomato red as I tug my hair in frustration.
Beatrix gasps, staring twice before her brain clicks. "You did… YOU CRIED IN THE ARM OF A MAN! A MAN!"
She repeats "man" twice.
Reason? Another day.
I nod, rocking back and forth like shaking off the embarrassment from three hours ago.
"Impossible!"
"I knew it. It's that Aaron, right?" Jamila pops out of her room in cotton PJs, hair in a messy bun, specs tilted on her head like a college geek.
I nod slowly. Her judgmental gaze and Beatrix's disbelief only remind me how dangerously fast things moved.
I fidget like a kid caught misbehaving. My head dips down. "It wasn't intentional. He said a few bad things, I got angry, he got shocked, hugged me, said nice stuff—and I broke down."
I summarize the entire hour of embarrassment in two sentences.
Beatrix squints, cupping my cheeks like she's trying to study me. "So you cried in the arms of the guy who hurt you?"
I shake my head fast. "No. He didn't hurt me. It's more like—"
"You're defending him," Jamila cuts in sharply. I hunch down, mumbling, "I'm not."
"Then how do you explain?" Beatrix presses.
Is this what happens when God gives you best friends who worry you'll get your heart broken?
I sigh. "Okay, I'll explain everything."
Jamila sits on the floor, her hand resting on my thigh, drawing small circles like she knows I need it. Beatrix wraps an arm around my shoulder.
So I explain—about being in a team of geniuses, Aaron's warning about being targeted, my outburst, his shock, his hug, his words. How I crumbled.
They don't interrupt. By the end, my breathing is uneven, throat dry, emotions churning unnamed inside me.
"He sounds like an asshole and a nice guy at the same time," Beatrix says.
Jamila just presses her lips together.
I've never cried in front of my ex, never shared things like I did with Aaron. No wonder they're both shocked.
"Do you like him?" Jamila's voice is firm, her fingers pausing on my thigh.
My first instinct is to deny.
Hell no. I don't like that crooky, blue-eyed goblin. I've known him two days. He's annoying, frustrating, a mystery box.
But my heart races as both of them wait.
"I don't like him. But… he feels familiar. In a way I've never felt with someone else." My voice is small, shaky.
"I met him last night. He's annoying, okay?" I shift, defensive.
"But today when he told me to tone down for safety, I got triggered." My hands shake. Jamila holds them, grounding me.
"Then he hugged me," I whisper, lips trembling. His arms had felt like the safest place I'd ever been.
"He apologized. Said it's okay to be too much." My eyes beg them to understand the chaos in me.
Jamila softens. "And you broke… feeling he would catch you if you scattered."
I don't correct her. She's right. For those twenty-one minutes, I wasn't Nova Celestia, the unbreakable. I was just a girl who wanted someone to hug her and say she was enough.
"I don't know what to call it," I admit, voice stripped of confidence.
"It's okay if you don't know," Beatrix squeezes my shoulder, smiling faintly. "You don't need to. If you felt safe enough to break in his arms—that's good enough."
Tears burn my eyes. I try to fight them, but they blur anyway.
I hate it. Yet I don't want to erase it. I'm scared. What if this flutter grows into something else? What if I start something again, only to get broken?
"Nini," Jamila speaks firmly, gripping my knee. "Promise me—if it starts hurting you, you'll walk away." Her eyes glisten with held-back tears, living through my past heartbreak as if it were hers.
I nod, clutching her hand tight.
She hugs my waist, voice muffled against me. "Nini, I only care about you finding happiness, being treated right. You've suffered enough. You don't need to carry your parents, your brother, your ex lover. Let it go. Live your life."
Her words slip through my cracks. Beatrix whispers, "Mila's right. You don't need to carry so much weight. If you fall in love again, don't be scared. We're here."
And the tears fall. My hand rests on Jamila's head, the other around Beatrix's waist.
"Yeah."
That's all I manage before crying silently, yet feeling warmer than ever.
Sometimes God doesn't give you the best family because He gives you the freedom to chose your family outside your bloodline.
And this.....
This is my chosen family.