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To witness love and to experience love, is quite different.

I played the role of a witness while my mother experienced love, one received from my father. He was simply a man in love, not with the idea of love, but with the woman who introduced him to love.

I recall the days of admiring how beautiful and easy, they made everything seem. Everything felt right with them and I, a few times so, desired to be the one to experience such love. In unfortunate turn of events, tragedy decided to knock at our door. It claimed the life of my father, separating us and leaving us in the cold.

My mother seemed lost without her other half.

The desire to better relate to her pain had overwhelmed me, so much so, because all I wanted was to offer more support and be a reliable source of comfort for her. The unhealthy mindset I had then, in the early days of fresh and raw pain while mourning, was strong, I admit to this. What amazed me through it all, was the way my mother noticed where where I was mentally, and how desperate I'd been, to escape my own grief, in order to focus on hers and be her strength.

She called me out on this, to not hurt me, but to prevent me from drowning, when everything finally hit me all at once. When I look back to all those times I misunderstood her intentions, I do feel sorry.

Her strength has been my strength, like how mine has been hers. We've reminded ourselves of who my father was and what he strongly believed in, we've taken that as part of our source of strength and carried on, with a focus on healing and taking a day at a time.

The process may seem long and hard, many times frustrating, when pain hits stronger, more than the last time, but sure enough, days have gotten better.

Responsibility concerning my mother, had taken over due to the knowledge that I am all she has. I am the piece that links her to my father, like the love she shared with him. I've found her stare at me longer than necessary, with a flash of pain passing through her eyes, which have pierced my very own heart.

The sense of responsibility, especially towards shielding my mother, from possible hurts, has weighed on me heavily, like the burden of keeping things from her.

' I did it to protect you,' a line used too many times in movies, became the very same line, in which I have in mind as a reminder of why I've kept silent on some matters.

She is one of the strongest women I know, but knowing how sensitive she gets in anything concerning me, I worry about her. I have been quite careful to not bring attention to things that may make her more sensitive. Unfortunately some things have made me work up a sweat to keep them hidden.

Rumours had surfaced around our neighbourhood lately, rumours circulating around one family, the Myers. I knew better than to engage in rumours or talks, because I knew all too well how it felt to be the subject of hot topics within rumours.

This is why I made sure to avoid them, especially phone calls that came from people who would engage in rumours.

Speaking of phonecalls, nothing could have prepared me for the one I receive now. I hold back for a while, I swear that I do but eventually cave in, when I remember who it is that is calling.

" Hello, Milla." He's the first to break the silence.

" Hi Neil."

A Myer.

" It's been a while." He's being too nice, It's been a long time.

'And maybe I'm at fault,' I think to myself.

'A Myer is a Myer, remember?' Those were my words back then.

" Yes, it's been a...while. I'm surprised you called."

That doesn't sound right, he tried to keep in contact but I......

" Why did you.....?" I trail off, leaving the rest in the air.

" Honestly, when I heard, I thought of you."

" Heard what?"

" You know, about William possibly returning."

Right then and there, time stops for moment.

'William is what now?

No, I must have heard wrong. He isn't, he isn't supposed to do that, well not now at least. '

'This could mess up everything.'

" Milla, are you there?" I blink a couple of times, getting back to reality.

" Oh...Um, your family must be happy?" My words don't come out right. I mean, I'm unsure of how to feel right now.

"You didn't know, did you?"

" Hmm." He guessed right.

' Well, you didn't want anything to do with the rumours.'

"Maybe it would have been better if you heard from someone else." He says, but it sounds like he's talking to himself.

" N-no, thank you for telling me. Better to know now than later, right?"

" Can I ask you something?"

'Please don't ask me about him, please don't ask me about him.'

'He's going to ask about him, that's the whole reason he called.' My conciousness says, shutting down all hope.

" Yeah, sure."

" Would you talk to him if you saw him again?"

" I doubt that would happen. "

" Milla----"

"Neil, I have to go."

That's it, this conversation needs to end before I say something I'm not supposed to.

" Oh, okay. Well, it was really nice to hear your voice again. I mean---"

" I know what you meant."

" One last thing."

" Hmm?"

" This might not be the last time I call, I did miss a friend."

He hangs up before I can say anything.

I let out a sigh, finally taking in all the information I recieved from this one phonecall.

Rumour or not, this piece of I formation is too hard to process.

Sitting on my mini bench, in my balcony as I sip on my tea, I have done nothing more than try to ignore the next incoming call. With the cell phone placed under vibrate, in all honesty, nothing has helped me in silencing my overthinking.

It's all coming back to me now, what I did, the decisions that choked all the air out of me.

' You did what you had to do. There was no way out then.' My consciousness reminds me of the state I found myself in, two months ago.

'You were helpless.'

Some things are better left unsaid, this is what I have tried convincing myself of.

' I've lied and nothing is worse than that, ' The guilty side of me takes a turn against me, making me feel more worse than I already feel.

I close my eyes for a moment and use all light thoughts, to silence the concerning ones. For a while, calmness seeps its way through my body, only for that moment to cease, when I hear a knock on my bedroom door. Right at that moment, a message notification zaps through my phone, distracting me for a bit, but not entirely, that I forget about the knock.

"Coming!" I announce, on my way to answer the door, making sure to not forget about closing the sliding door.

The balcony has a story of its own, the kind that has left my mother sensitive towards. Long story short, during the period of mourning when I wasn't entirely myself, my feet had once stepped on that edge. Pain had driven me to it and to have my mother be the witness, definetly brought about the worst memory.

I am very sure that witnessing a loved one go through that, was painful.

" You forgot your laundry again, Milla," mum says the minute she enters my room, or more like scold me.

I don't mind it actually, in fact, I appreciate it. It's a distraction from the overwhelming emotions that had taken over not too long ago.

' Hi, it's me......

I want to call you, please answer this time.'

I didn't answer, I wouldn't answer because I didn't want to, but my heart already did.

' I don't want to, you're coming back. Therefore you've broken your promise to me.'