2.

"Promise me, Franco, promise you will never leave me." Seventeen years old Araceli curled her right fingers into fists releasing just the littlest. She points it at Eighteen years old Franco waiting for him to cross his around hers for a pinky promise. 

"I promise I won't ever leave or abandon you." Franco crossed his finger around hers as she expected. Her giggles echo in the air as he pulls her closer for a hug. 

He placed his lips on her forehead and whispered in her ears-

"I won't ever let myself lose you. This is my promise to you, Ayla." 

He wraps his hands around her slender waist, gently laying her back on the ground as he leans on her. Moonlight spilled over her body revealing her pale skin as they made love in an uncompleted building that they called home for four years.

A home to Franco and Ayla and not the Araceli Castaneda she has become.

But here he was, walking past her like she was a ghoul. There was an imposing distance and iciness in his cold but charming brown eyes. Like an everlasting iceberg glimmering with hate and fury. 

"W-why?" She asks herself questions that only Franco could give answers to. She clenched the hem of her dress, striding towards Franco. But then-

"Where are you going?" Francisco interrupted, his voice snapping her out of reverie. Instantly, her eyes mellowed at him, his legs were crossed and his thumbs clenched together around his knees, and his eyes were squinted devouring hers with sheer eagerness. 

But Araceli cared less, she spun around ignoring Francisco, as she walks behind Franco straight to the men's restroom. 

Without a second thought, she pushed the door open and walked right in, but then-

"Why are you here?" There were no emotions in Franco's tone, his eyes were piercing into hers, with slanted brows.

"You remember me?" Her eyes well up, she walked closer clenching his sleeves, but to her surprise, he gripped her wrist with overwhelming force, twisting it with his vitality as he tries to loosen her hold on his sleeves. 

"Franco, you are hurting me." She moaned, her lips parted as she stares deeply into his eyes. He didn't look like the same person, there was a glint of pain that suddenly was overshadowed by the rage glimmering in his eyes. 

"Get away from here." He shoved her hand off his sleeves. His lips warped in a sneer.

Araceli doesn't recall having any argument with him twelve years back, she couldn't understand his sudden hate and disgust for her. 

She had fantasized about their reunion. A hug, and then his lips on hers. They would scream and almost die of the excitement of meeting again after twelve years of being apart, but she had guessed wrong.

"Why were you following me Ayla?" His frigid tone sprouted goosebumps over her body and his gaze swept a glance at her. 

"What do you mean? It's been so long Franco, I've been searching for you, I've looked everywhere, and like fate, we've met." She tries walking closer again, giving excuses in her head that he must have been overwhelmed seeing her again out of the blue, but he stopped her at arm's length.

There was a momentary silence in the air. 

Franco looked at her ghastly pale face and the tears that instantly stream down her thin cheeks.

"Franco..." She mutters with a frail voice, as painful moans escaped her lips. 

"Pretend like we never met Ayla." 

His words were abruptly emotionless. Araceli felt as though she was struck by a lightning. Her lashes trembled and she dug her nails into her palms. 

He walks past her, but then-

"Araceli?" Francisco's voice squeaked behind the closed door. Franco brandished Araceli's arms and hid inside the stall, his palms covering her lips to prevent her from making a sound.

Araceli instantly snapped back to her senses. Why were they hiding?

"Araceli?" Francisco opened the restroom door and walked in, making Franco grab Araceli's butt and lifts her crossing her legs around his waist, to hide her feet from Francisco.

Araceli's eyes wavered from the door to Franco's countenance. She sensed the fear glimmering in his eyes. She could tell with no doubt, Franco didn't want Francisco to see him with her, but why?

The clicking sound of Francisco's shoes against the tiled floor suddenly came to a halt right behind the closed stall they had hidden.

Franco's frightening gaze, locked with Araceli's questioning gape. He could see the inquisitiveness in her blue narrowed eyes, waiting for his explanation. 

There was a moment of silence, and at the next stride of Francisco's, Franco's ear perked up as he listens carefully to Francisco's strides heading towards the exit.

His grip on Araceli's butt loosen a bit making her skid down the wall. Her lips parted as an unconscious moan escaped her lip, and the sound of Francisco's foot stopped in response to the sudden sound that broke the dreary silence.

Araceli's eyes were clenched shut, and despite she had no idea why they were hiding, it made no sense to her to get caught after putting up with Franco's mischievousness for the past few minutes. 

"Quiet!" He mutters gracing her skin with the warmth of his breath. Araceli slowly opens her eyes, and shockingly, he was so close that their nose was side by side, one caressing the other. Her eyes focused on his thin lips. He fixed his gaze on hers, his breathing inaudible as if being close to her had suddenly left him lovestruck. 

When he saw the color of red creep up her cheeks, he felt a sudden urge to kiss those heart-shaped lips of hers and he did. 

Like a sip of the sweet beverage, his lips tasted even better sending Araceli into a state of overwhelming emotions. The miseries of their past, cause teardrops that drip like a cascade on their cheeks. And for a moment, it felt like a reconciliation, as their lips disjoined, and their forehead placed against each other. 

With eyes clenched shut, their lips whined silently as they only recalled the dreary memory responsible for the grave distance that kept them apart for twelve years. 

Franco was jailed twelve years ago for stealing, and behind those bars were the most horrible moments of his life, and for Araceli, it was the moment her life changed for the better, or worse perhaps. 

Suddenly, the door slammed and startled them. A breath of relief escapes Franco's lips. 

"Why were you hiding?" Araceli's gaze mellowed at him, thinking that the little moment they had just experienced, broke the twelve years riff between them, but that wasn't the case for Franco. 

Her question somewhat brought him back to his senses. He released his hold on her and nudged her to the ground. 

"Ouch!" Araceli moaned in pain, stricken by Franco's sudden attitude, and instead of leading a hand to help her onto her feet, he walked away. 

Araceli completely went blank, confusion and hurt visible in her eyes as she watched his figure disappear.

Araceli got on her feet, her fist clenched on her dress. For a minute she was dazed, but suddenly, her lips tightened in anger, and her brows furrowed, as she strode after Franco, demanding an explanation for how he treated her. 

She followed him to the parking lot, the sound of her heels squeaking suddenly came to a halt when she noticed a woman standing beside a car, smiling at Franco. 

He walks closer to her, wrapping his hands around her waistline, as he buried his lips into hers. The lady's hands, caress Franco's arms, the ring on her left finger, glittering in the dark, and when she locks hands with Franco, it looked like a pair of diamond rings.

They were married.

For twelve years she was searching for him, but he moved on with his life as if their four years together were nothing. As if she meant nothing. 

As if a hole was dug in her chest, all that was left was the wind whistling through. She felt cold, hurt, and abandoned, something she prayed against.