Page 172 of Dissolving Prejudice

“Whenever you cry, it’s like the sky tears apart, and the whole world turns sadder. It breaks my heart every time,” he whispered, voice soft, while he ran his fingers through my hair. “It was what drew me to you in the first place. Back on that hotel balcony, after I stopped you from jumping, you cried so much it left me shocked. At first, I thought you were dead-ass crazy, but then I listened to your cry, and I recognized it. I recognized it as my own pain, and at that moment, I would have given anything to make it stop.”

His confession touched the deepest parts of my soul, and slowly, I rose up to look at him.

“Is that why you love me? Because I’m broken, like you?”

Perhaps, in the end, all the torture and abuse I went through was what led me to Camilo. If I were to be just another spoiled, rich brat with a silver spoon in his mouth, a man like him would have never wasted a breath on me. I’d be simply another stranger crossing his path, unworthy of his time or attention.

“No,” he said, and that one simple word was enough to calm the storm in my mind. Brushing his finger along my jaw, he nudged my chin up so I’d see the sincerity on his face.

“I love you because you’re strong and you’re kind. You’re beautiful, inside and out, fierce despite the pain, and mostly, you have it in you to forgive, even monsters like your dad.” His lips twitched into a smile full of sorrow and pain. “I never had that ability… forgiveness. I hold on to vengeance like it’s my last breath, allowing it to fuel me with hate and anger that blinds me from what’s important.” He took a short pause, his face turning softer, shedding the lines of stress. “You’re what’s important, Shay-Lee. And it’s only you who makes me a different version of myself, one who doesn’t hate and rage but looks at the future. A man that can dance till the dawn comes and who falls asleep with a sucker’s smile on his face.”

My chest tightened with his words, and I held back a sob.

He chuckled.

“Stop crying all the time. It’s making me sad.”

“I’m not crying.” Sniff. “My eyes are just wet.” An ugly snort escaped me, and he pulled me close until our foreheads touched.

“You’re such a crybaby.”

“I am.” I sobbed when a spark of gold caught my eye, and I moved my hand to his neck.

“I wondered who put it on for me,” he said while I stroked the golden chain.

“I did, while you were asleep.”

“Where’s yours?” he then asked.

“I had to repair it. Some twink tore it apart.”

Despite trying to make light of it, Camilo didn’t find it funny and instead wrapped his fingers around my neck.

“Next time you visit me, make sure you have it. Yes?”

For once, I didn’t feel like arguing over being told what to do, and instead, I nodded, fucking grateful that he was here, alive, and well enough to order me around.

“Will do.”

Shay-Lee

Three weeks had passed since Camilo woke up from the seven-day induced coma he was in after surgery, and since then, I hadn’t left his side. So far, he’d made significant progress, and while he struggled to do some of the most basic stuff, like showering by himself, he had begun to regain his power back. His body had gone through a severe trauma, followed by a complicated lifesaving surgery, and it would take him time to fully recover. By that, I meant months. And yet, he was doing better. Much, much better. The swelling in his face had subsided, and yesterday, the docs took out the stitches, too. Now, Camilo had two more scars added to his face—much larger than the others. One went up along the side of his face, cutting through his eyebrow, while the other crossed his face from ear to ear, going over his cute little nose.

The doc told Camilo that he could get those scars treated with plastic surgery, but Camilo refused, and I agreed. He was absolutely perfect the way he was.

“Where’re we going?” my handsome man asked as I pushed his wheelchair down the hospital lobby. He’d only recently started walking again, and since the doctor clearly said to take a step at a time, I wasn’t about to risk it.

“To the yard,” I said when he huffed.

“Why?”

“Fresh air will do you good.”

The automatic doors of the hospital opened, and I rolled him out into the warm sun. It was a beautiful day with a blue sky and tweeting birds, and I knew Camilo thought the same as he looked up at the sun, eyes closed, a soft smile on his lips.

“I can’t wait to get out of this damn place,” he said on a deep sigh.

Unfortunately for Camilo, he still had a long recovery ahead of him, and I assumed we’d have a few more days, if not weeks, to spend in this hospital.