Anthony POV
My father had finally delivered his ultimatum.
"If you can juggle your culinary training with a few business management classes," he'd said, voice firm but calm, "I'll back off for a while. After that, we talk. Really talk. And I promise to listen."
That last part almost made me laugh. My father had never "listened" to anyone in his life.
But I took the deal. I didn't have a choice.
Since then, my life had been suffocating—culinary classes during the day, business lectures at night. My schedule was packed to the brim, and the one person I wanted—needed—was the one I kept letting down.
Camila.
I'd sent her a message or two throughout the week, mostly short, rushed replies. A "Sorry, swamped," here. A "Miss you, Sunshine," there. But nothing meaningful. I kept telling myself I'd text her properly, explain everything, make it up to her. Then I'd forget again—buried under notes, cooking trials, case studies, mock investment plans.
It wasn't fair. I knew that. But I told myself she had exams too—humanities and sciences. She'd be just as busy. Maybe she wouldn't even notice how quiet I'd been.
Lying to myself never felt this awful.
By the time I got home that night, my limbs were dead weight. I slumped down onto my bed, every joint aching, and stared up at the ceiling. The world spun with formulas, measurements, deadlines. I rolled onto my side and finally picked up my phone.
One missed call. Three unread texts—from Camila.
Sunshine: "Hey, just checking in."
Sunshine: "Did you get home safe?"
Sunshine: "I miss you."
My chest tightened like a vise. I deserved worse. I glanced at the clock. If I carved out just fifteen minutes tomorrow, maybe… maybe I could see her. Talk to her. Apologize for how absent I'd been.
I texted her right then.
Me: "Can I steal you away tomorrow evening? Just for a bit."
Her reply came fast.
Sunshine: "Sure. I've missed you. Where have you been?"
Me: "I'll explain everything tomorrow. Meet me at the big Mahoe tree in the meadow. The one with the swing. 6 PM. Promise."
She had shown me that place. Told me her brother had made the swing before he left for college. There was even a small, crooked treehouse nearby. That spot meant something to her. And if I was going to start making things right, it had to be there.
I spent my day trying to clear things up so I would have the time, time to see her
I got home around 4 I was meeting her at 6
It was perfect
I flopped back down into my open books. "No rest for the wicked," I muttered.
I don't remember falling asleep.
What I do remember is the pitter-patter of rain on the roof when I jolted awake.
Panic shot through me as I reached for my phone.
6:58 PM.
"Shit."
I scrambled out of bed, grabbed my jacket a the Lilo & Stitch hair tie I'd been holding onto for weeks i had been wearing it on my wrist to remind me of her —hers, I sprinted across the property like a madman. My feet slipped in the wet grass, rain soaking through my shirt, but I didn't care. I had to get to her.
I reached the meadow just as the light began to fade.
There, under the massive Mahoe tree, Camila sat.
Soaked to the bone. Her curls stuck to her face in wet tendrils. Her eyes were puffy, red-rimmed. She didn't look up at first—she was hugging her knees, curled into herself like a question mark.
My chest cracked open.
She looked up slowly when she heard my footsteps.
"Camila…" I whispered, breathless, drenched, and ashamed.
She said nothing.
I took a step forward and held out the silly little hair tie, my hand trembling.
I pulled her hair into a bun to get her hair out of her face
"I meant to come. I swear I did."
I fell asleep I am so sorry she was trembling my heart cliched as she slaped my and away
Her eyes heavy with her tears and my betrayal I was frustrated and scared
What was I to do