CHAPTER 7: OUTSIDE HER DOOR

I left before I would do something I couldn't control.

"I need air," I told her, and I walked away from her in the hallway. My chest was tight. My hands were shaking. If I stayed one more second with her that close, in that red gown, I knew I would forget who I was supposed to be to her.

I didn't go far. I turned into the side aley of the house, where the light from the party didn't reach. From there, she couldn't see me.

But I could see her.

Mila didn't move at first. She just stood there where I left her, her hands holding her beautiful red floral gown. Then slowly, she sat down on the ground.

She didn't even care that her expensive gown would get dirty on the hallway floor. She just sat there.

She wasn't crying. She wasn't making any sound. She just sat quietly, fixing her hair with her small hands. Tucking it behind her ear, again and again. Then she fixed her gown, straightening the flowers at the bottom.

But her eyes kept looking back at the alley. The alley where I was hiding.

She was expecting me to come back.

I wanted to. God, I wanted to run back to her and pull her up from that cold floor. I wanted to tell her not to sit there alone on her 20th birthday.

But I didn't move. I stood in the dark, watching her, my fists clenched.

After a few minutes, she gave up. She stood up, dusted her gown off softly, and walked away. Not back to the party. She went upstairs. To her room.

I was still standing there in the dark alley, thinking.

can I still be an uncle to her?

The answer came quickly. No. I can't. I am not satisfied with just looking at her from a distance anymore. For two years, I told myself that seeing her was enough. That watching her laugh from across the living room was enough.

It's not enough anymore.

I want to hold her. I want to claim her. I want to be able to openly tell the world she is mine. I want to be the man who makes her sad eyes happy again. I want to tell her that I love her.

That I have loved her for two years.

Just then, I saw her father walk past me with a small cake in his hands. Her special wishing cake. The one he makes for her every birthday since she was a little girl. Only family is allowed to see that cake.

He went into her room and closed the door. I heard her small laugh from inside. For a few minutes, they were in there together. Father and daughter.

And the guilt hit me like a truck.

That is my best friend. That is his daughter. How can I stand here thinking of claiming his daughter?

But the feeling didn't go away.

When he came out of her room, empty plate in hand, smiling, I felt even more guilty. But I also felt jealous. I wanted to be the one making her smile like that.

When he was gone, I walked to her room. My heart was beating so loud I was sure the whole house could hear it.

Her door was closed. The soft yellow light from inside was coming from under the door.

I raised my hand to knock.

I couldn't.

I stood there. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. My hand was in the air, frozen.

mila,I have love you since you were 18 yrs

The words were in my throat, but they wouldn't come out.

I am 34. She is 20. I am her father's best friend. I am her mother's past. I am the man she calls Uncle.

Who am I to knock on her door and tell her I love her?

So I couldn't. I just couldn't knock.

With a heavy heart, I turned around and left. I walked away from her door, step by step, slowly, hoping... hoping she would stop me.

Then I heard it.

creak.

Her door opened behind me.

She had opened it.

She was watching me walk away .Then she called me back.

"Andrel, wait not uncle like she calls me

"My mom loved you and lost you. I read her diary."I turned back shocked.she looked straight at me, eyes red like she was about to cry.

"So tell me the truth... do you still love my mom? Or could you ever love me?"