We strolled out of the room, enveloped in an unspoken hush, clutching the portrait I had crafted for him. I walked alongside him, our hands intertwined as if afraid to lose each other's grasp.
We entered the bustling crowd, drawing curious glances in my direction. Denver shielded me from prying eyes, wrapping his arms around me and hiding my face within the warmth of his embrace. We smoothly glided out of the room, escaping any inquisitive queries about my identity.
My gaze drifted towards a woman I had noticed earlier. She stood just outside, beside the grand double doors, engaged in a heated conversation with someone. My heart raced at the sight of her, a striking beauty adorned in a seductive dress, seemingly embroiled in an argument.
"Denver..." The man she was conversing with finally acknowledged Denver's presence, capturing the woman's attention. A sly smile curled upon her lips as she shifted her gaze towards me.
"He's just my friend, Matthew," she declared, addressing the man beside her. He remained silent, disregarding her statement, causing her to abandon him and stride purposefully toward us.
"You truly are a beauty, Mrs. Velasquez," she exclaimed cheerfully.
"Thank you," I murmured softly, my voice barely audible.
"I'm Zerra Fey, his childhood friend," she nonchalantly shrugged, and I noticed Denver shaking his head.
So... just a friend.
"We must be on our way," a man named Matthew addressed Zerra impatiently. She rolled her eyes, clearly familiar with his impetuous nature.
"You're always in a rush, Matt," she quipped. Offering me a friendly smile, she leaned in and planted a kiss on my cheek. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Sharmienne," she whispered, bidding us farewell.
As I watched her depart, Denver gently grasped my waist and guided me towards my father's awaiting car. There, my father stood, his countenance stern and composed as his gaze fell upon us.
"Dad," I called out. Denver released his hold on me, waiting for my father's acknowledgment.
"Did you speak to him?" my father inquired softly, stealing a glance at Denver.
"Yes, dad," I responded.
My father nodded, then tapped Denver's shoulder. "We had a discussion about this, young man."
Denver scratched his brow, his eyes meeting my father's. "I know, dad."
"Well, then, we must be on our way," my father declared.
Casting one final gaze at Denver, I entered the car followed by my father. Daddy maneuvered the vehicle away from the opulent Velasquez mansion, leaving Denver behind, standing alone.
It was still hard to accept that his answer and only choice was to let me go. Though I knew to myself that I could wait for him. I had been waiting for him. In uncertainty. Without assurance. They were just false promises. It was up to me to accept them or go on with my life without holding onto his words.
It was hard to choose, but he had already made his choice. We had also changed. We changed. And I thought it was better this way. Not relying on each other anymore. Living away from each other and letting fate bring us together again.
I regretted what I did. If only... If only I had stayed and never let myself be selfish. If only I had chosen to stay. If only I had never wanted to leave him. If only... I had considered his feelings about my departure... He wouldn't have thought of this. He wouldn't have considered letting go of me. But it was too late. And I had to endure the consequences of my actions. I blamed myself for what I thought was right before.
Leaving him was letting him go too. I thought I could endure it before. But seeing him again on his special day, all my courage crumbled into debris. It was so hard to endure it. I was too selfish.
"Carmienne's in the house with her husband," he blurted out, his eyes fixed on the traffic. My curiosity piqued.
Did he even know that Jake was the mastermind behind The Hawk, like the ultimate puppeteer who pulled the strings of everyone involved? He was like the epicenter of a spider's web, connecting and controlling it all.
My lips pursed as I pondered what Daddy said, nodding in understanding. I had no say about Jake being Carmienne's other half. After all, my sister was head over heels for him, and who was I to meddle in matters of the heart? She was smart, who knew exactly what she was doing.
But deep down, I couldn't help but suspect that their marriage went beyond personal desire. There had to be something more at play, an extension of our grand plan—a cunning move to gather information about our cousins.
Carmienne's decision to walk down the aisle with Jake had a purpose beyond mere affection.
"Hey, Dad, what if we just leave them be?" I suggested, a hint of unease in my voice. "I was actually hoping we could swing by our company instead. Can we make that happen?"
Dad glanced at me, his eyes reflecting curiosity. "Why on earth would you want to do that?"
I hesitated for a moment, then confessed, "Honestly, I feel uneasy whenever Jake is around. He has this aura that can be quite intimidating to engage with."
Dad sighed, his expression filled with a mix of understanding and frustration. "I wish we could, hija. But you see, Jake's family is also involved in managing our company."
My heart sank at his response. The realization hit me that our paths were tightly interwoven, with Jake's influence stretching even into our professional endeavors. The thought of navigating those corridors, knowing he had a say in every decision made, sent a shiver down my spine.
Caught between my discomfort and the reality of our entangled business interests, I had to muster the strength to face Jake head-on.
"He's the one who helped your sister locate your cousins. I was convinced that all the evidence the police had was gone, leaving us at a dead end. However, Jake's connections are formidable enough to work some magic. And now, they're delving into the car crash that your sister was involved in."
"No way, Dad!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening with surprise.
I couldn't help but be intrigued by the whole situation. Jake, with his mysterious air, seemed to hold more power and influence than I had ever imagined. His involvement in our family was a twist I hadn't even anticipated. There was an air of danger surrounding him, like he had secrets of his own that he was determined to uncover.
As my mind raced, I realized that the investigation into the crash would lead us down a treacherous path. What really happened after that?
"He helped?" I repeated, my curiosity piqued. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place, but I couldn't help but wonder what motivated Jake to get involved. Besides the fact that Carmienne was caught up in all this, he hadn't shown much interest in my sister's affairs before. Unless he had a hidden agenda, deliberately entangling himself in this tragic event.
I vividly remembered Carmienne's suspicions, connecting the tragedy to two rival gangs, The Hawk and The Falcon. Maybe Jake had known about this all along, and his assistance was a way to seek justice for our cousins.
"Wait, let me get this straight," I said, trying to make sense of it all. "The initial police findings stated that there were no other bodies in the car besides my sister. But the car that collided with them had two students inside, one of whom was the same age as Denver."
"We're all in the dark, uncertain about what lies ahead," Daddy lamented, his voice heavy with concern. "All we can do is cling to hope, praying for your cousins' recovery."
"I've been thinking, I want to pay them a visit soon," I shared, my heart yearning to offer some solace to our beloved family members.
"We should," Dad agreed quietly, and a solemn silence settled upon us. Upon arriving at our house, we were warmly greeted by my sister, who eagerly rushed to embrace me as I stepped out of the car.
"I've missed you so much, Sha," she whispered, her voice filled with affection as she held me tight.
"Me too, Carms. How have you been?" I inquired, a glimmer of curiosity in my eyes. She smiled knowingly, a mischievous spark dancing in her gaze.
"Do you really want me to tell every detail?" she teased, her playful nature returning. Since her marriage to Jake, she had blossomed into a radiant and joyous woman, clearly enveloped in the enchantment of love.
We walked into the house together, with Dad's arms warmly embracing my sister before he turned to greet Jake Hart. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation and a profound connection. As I caught sight of Jake in the dining room, casually sipping his tea, a twinge of unease settled in my gut.
Our eyes met briefly before he gracefully rose from his seat to greet my father.
"Jake," Dad said, acknowledging his presence.
"I completed your request, sir," Jake informed him.
"I never asked you to do that, Jake," Dad replied.
"My wife needed some assistance, especially with your brother constantly badgering her about his children," Jake explained, his voice tinged with irritation. However, the tension swiftly dissipated as Carmienne approached him, her delicate touch soothing him.
A crease formed between my brows as I tried to make sense of his words. Had something happened?
My father massaged his temple wearily and simply nodded. "I know Jurius is stubborn, but we understand why he's acting this way. His children went missing, and he unfairly placed the blame on Carmienne."
"I won't let anyone hurt my wife, sir. No one," Jake declared, his voice laced with a veiled threat. He then whisked his wife away from us, leaving Dad and me dumbfounded. Their departure left an air of shock and disbelief.
"Such a headstrong man," Dad muttered, shaking his head in disbelief, as if grappling with the complexity of Jake's unwavering protectiveness.
I followed them with a look. All I could see was the future lying in front of us. I couldn't help but get nervous thinking about it. I didn't trust Jake that much, knowing he was an enemy of my husband's gang. It felt as if we were living with an angel in disguise. Yet, I also trusted my sister. She knew what to do.
It was already past midnight when I decided to go to my room. I saw my empty canvas lying on the floor, just beside the vanity table. My paint was also neatly arranged beside it. I couldn't help but sigh as I remembered Denver's reaction upon seeing my gift.
I arranged my paints and empty canvas as I lay down on the floor, disregarding the state of my dress. With deliberate care, I gathered my hair into a bun and smoothed the loose strands away from my face. Retrieving the canvas, I grasped the brush, holding it as if it were a precious treasure. I allowed chance to guide me as I randomly selected a color before applying it to the vacant expanse.
With each stroke, random lines gradually transformed into purposeful shapes, seamlessly evolving into the figure of a scarred painter, stripped of all garments and blinded by a concealing blindfold. 
As I caressed the canvas with my brush, adding intricate details and sculpting volume, the scars took on a realism, blending seamlessly with the hues that enveloped them. The figure became imbued with an undeniable vitality, transcending the confines of paint and canvas until it evoked a profound sense of reality.
Within the space of a white room, the woman resided, enveloped solely by her own presence. Adorned in a flowing garment of crimson satin, she remained concealed, not through nakedness but by the obscuring embrace of a blindfold. Feeble rays of light struggled to penetrate the window, casting the room into a dim abyss. In her solitude, she emanated an aura of both pitiful loneliness and profound resilience, bearing the weight of fear and scars upon her fragile frame. 
As her gaze fixed upon the moon, casting its luminous glow through the window, her blindfolded eyes met the moon's radiant illumination and transcended the desolation that surrounded her. The brilliance bestowed upon her was an empowering force, a stark contrast to the perceptions of those who witnessed her plight. In the face of darkness that threatened to overwhelm her, she clung to a sense of positivity, radiating a resolute smile as she absorbed the solitary moon's celestial light, finding solace and strength in its luminous embrace.
The scene unfolded in a balance of beauty and solitude, mirroring the depths of my own existence. Despite the profound sense of isolation, I found solace in the knowledge that I had created something meaningful. The canvas before me resonated with the essence of my soul, encapsulating the emotions that coursed through me in that very moment.
With every stroke and brush stroke, I poured a piece of myself onto the canvas, giving form and substance to the intangible realm of emotions. It became a visual representation of my innermost thoughts and desires, the depth of my being. In its vibrant hues and intricate details, it embodied the very essence of what I felt at that precise moment in time.
As I gazed upon the completed work, a sense of satisfaction washed over me. The canvas stood as a testament to my ability to express and capture the intricacies of my emotions. It had become a mirror of my soul, a profound reflection of my innermost self, allowing me to confront and understand the truth of my own existence.
The power of art, how it could transcend mere words and touch the deepest recesses of the human spirit. The canvas stood as a defining statement, an embodiment of my truest feelings, a visual manifestation of my very essence. In the presence of the canvas, its beauty and loneliness, I couldn't help but embrace the impact it had on shaping my identity. 
A gentle smile graced my lips as I spoke softly, my voice carrying the weight of a heartfelt sentiment. "I hope that you could witness this, Denver." 
Within those hushed words, an unspoken yearning for Denver's presence flowed, echoing through the depths of my being, which I felt it would last forever.