Chapter 3 #3
“Passion is fleeting, cara mia. Either it will pass, or it will evolve into a deeper feeling, such as love, for example… Passion is impatient. It doesn’t tolerate flaws or obstacles and fades when it encounters them.
I believe it is the fun part, while love is a little more serious.
Fun too, but serious, mature, and patient.
That’s it! Passion does not prevail when things become serious and difficult, but love is persistent and knows how to appreciate even your flaws, how to find beauty in the imperfection.
Still, sometimes goodbyes are necessary…
they hurt very much, sicken the chest and the soul… ”
I became virtually deaf while my mind ran wild.
It was foolish of me to say she was wrong, because with Heithor that was exactly how it happened when we met.
Strong. Voracious. Impetuous. Overwhelming.
Sex. A lot of hot sex. Good, uncomplicated fun.
Purely physical attraction, at least at first.
For a long time, our encounters were only sexual, seeking to satisfy the insatiable desire we felt for each other… No. Heithor didn’t attract me only because of the best sex I had ever had, even when I believed and reinforced my belief that it was the only reason I kept returning to his arms.
The truth was, from the beginning he had exerted a kind of power over me that left me blind, deaf, and mute.
It neutralized any trace of reason and common sense, and when I finally came to myself, the damage was already done.
That was how it happened. One day, we were fucking like mad, and the next, I was enjoying his company whether we had sex or not.
As time passed, sex became only a consequence.
Everything about Heithor attracted me, even his flaws, which drove me crazy and entertained me at the same time. It was incoherent, and yet right.
It was more than physical attraction, well-being… it was…
Holy shit!
“Oh, Auntie…” I murmured tearfully.
“What is it, cara? Are you feeling sick?”
Her hands rushed quickly to my pulse and forehead.
“I-I’m fucked. So fucked!”
“How about we go inside and you tell me what you’re feeling? If you don’t feel well enough to walk, I can call Heithor to carry you to the living room…”
My lip trembled, tears falling while I shook my head.
Martha held my face. “Look at me, bambina… I won’t call him unless you’re unwell. Are you?”
“No.”
“Does Heithor have anything to do with this reaction?”
“Oh, Auntie, I think now I’ve really screwed myself for good.”
“Why? Is it so difficult to admit you love him? You only realized it now, am I right? Well, I confess I’m surprised you didn’t realize it before, but I’m happy you finally have.”
“How can you be happy about something like this? This is a huge pile of shit. Dio, when I think the whole thing can’t get any worse, it does.”
“This is not the end of the world, Antonella.”
“He hates me! He loved me and I hated him. And now he hates me and I—” I swallowed. “Well, you know.”
“If you don’t tell me, how will I know?”
I stared at her pleadingly, but her eyes questioned me, demanding a clear and audible answer, one I resisted giving until I was defeated.
“I-I… I love him.”
“Why is it so hard to say that?”
“Because it hurts… I was an idiot. I fucked everything up, and now he hates me.”
“Heithor does not hate you, bambina. He is wounded, hurt, and perhaps a little resentful, but he does not hate you. He still loves you… Just give him time. It is not easy for him either. Heithor left here without any hope, and when he returns, he finds exactly what he believed impossible. It would tie anyone’s mind in knots. ”
“And what am I supposed to do while that happens? Sit and watch him parade around with her? And if Heithor doesn’t want me anymore? Oh, Dio mio, he doesn’t. Now he wants that wretch. Maybe he even loves her.”
“Well, now you’re going to take a deep breath, dry those tears, and we’re going to get up, because I’m already a little old to remain seated in the same position for so long.
Then we’ll go to the kitchen, where you’ll drink a glass of water to calm yourself, and after that we’ll sit with Mariah and eat a nice piece of the walnut cake she made.
Or maybe two. While we talk about nonsense and drink a big mug of milk.
How does that sound?” I smiled faintly, wiping my face.
“Mariah has good stories in her baggage. And you know what they say, with a full stomach we deal with our problems better. Although I’m certain this discovery is not the problem you think it is. Quite the opposite.”
“It is when there’s no reciprocity anymore,” I insisted.
“No one stops loving that easily. Heithor is intense in his feelings. He always has been.”
“Do you really believe that?”
She nodded, smiling. It had an immediate effect on my despair, silencing it enough for me to cling to hope.
Martha stood and helped me do the same.
“And, if it interests you to know, he still looks at you the way he did before,” she commented, as if it were nothing, when we passed the gazebo.
My eyes widened, my heart swelling with joy. Her smile was as certain as her eyes and her words. I wanted to smile.
My pulse sped.
I cast a timid look toward the gazebo, wishing with every fiber of my being that she wasn’t wrong… and found his gaze following me…
Intense, deep, devastating eyes.
It was a chemical shock through my system. The force he exerted on me, binding me to him, our connection so strong that for that moment—only for that moment—I faithfully believed Martha’s words.
Heithor was mine. Still mine. And I loved him so much.