"I have discovered that there was more to me than I ever knew," -C.T

I hummed as my paintbrush swished along the canvas, a zen feeling waving over me. "What is this supposed to be?" I heard a voice from the right of me and I looked to see Tara smiling at me, a cup of Davina's favorite tea in hand for me. 

"I don't know," I narrowed my eyes, trying to make sense of what I painted. I typically painted things from my subconscious, things that I hadn't dealt with, things that were on my mind. "It looks like a mother hugging her son," I stated, realizing that I was probably painting the moment that my mother hugged me for the first time since that night. "Maybe I'll give this to my mom as a gift. She'd like it," I muttered fondly, understanding that Davina was trying her hardest to mend this relationship between us.

We were the closest out of our family and since that night with the rift between Christine, Sterling, and I, nothing had been the same. Once we concluded that nothing was better than our common enemy, we took to calling each other every night before we went to sleep, hanging out during the downtime that we had, sharing little snippets about us that we never would have before.

I definitely would never admit it out loud, but those moments were things I had wished for, once upon a time. 

"Speaking of," I put down my paintbrush, turning to her to gather her attention. This was something I thought long and hard about, realizing that I couldn't tie her to me forever. While it was normal in the world of the rich, I didn't have much to deal with that world anymore, and I couldn't think like the old me would have. I couldn't because somewhere along the way, she became important to me.

"What is that you want to do with your life, Tara?" She furrowed her brow quizzically, not understanding where this conversation was going. "I can't have you working for me forever. Besides, Joaquin wouldn't like that for you and neither would I." I smiled softly and she nodded. "I guess I always had a dream to work with nonprofit organizations that donated money and necessities to kids who had cancer, or kids who were impoverished, things like that," She shrugged and I could see the passion in her eyes.

"There's no greater than knowing that you could make someone else's life better with just a simple act," Tara confessed, sheepish that she started rambling and I sighed, thinking of a solution. 

"I usually would never do this, but you are a unique case, so I guess I'll do you this solid," I teased and she tilted her head, wondering what I was talking about. There was no greater person that I knew that would be best suited to get her started in that field and help her succeed. 

"I guess I'll introduce you to Phillippe."

I let out a laugh at the way her eyes widened, larger than her head, it appeared. "P-P-Phillippe B-Baudelaire!? The CEO of ABA?!?" I stared at my fingernails, sensing that my weekly manicure was coming up. "Yea, him. Why do you sound so shocked?" I raised a brow, seeing that she was on the verge of becoming comatose. 

"Come on before you get an aneurysm," I stood up, removing my apron from my body, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "You're gonna need to work on that before you actually meet him," I muttered, seeing her still struck with surprise. "Phillippe is a lot more intimidating than you actually think and he eats people like you for a snack, so that fear has to go," I chuckled to myself, knowing that a white lie didn't hurt.

Phillippe was nowhere near intimidating. In fact, the man was so nice and kind to people, but he was still so powerful in the business world. He didn't use underhanded tactics to get people to be loyal to him, things that Sterling Thorn relied upon. 

We walked into the main living room and I saw Joaquin in the kitchen, probably making dinner. "Oh, babe, there you are," I still couldn't get over the way he called me that with ease and judging by the smirk Tara had on her face, she couldn't either. 

"What are you making?" Tara said as she ran up to him, looking into the pot as he began to chatter with her. It was kind of domestic, this life that I was living, watching the man I could call mine cooking a meal for all of us. It was strange yet new how I was allowing someone into my own personal space, my safe haven, without a fight. 

Tara was different because she had no choice. I was literally on the verge of hallucinating my dreams into reality, and hugging me was the only way to get me to come down. Ever since then, I didn't mind her affection.

Tomas was a surprise in itself because no matter how many times I looked down on him and his best friend in the past, he still wrapped his arm around my neck, ruffling my hair like we had been friends for over ten years. At first, I punched him in the stomach for thinking he could touch me because no-no, I didn't know where his hands had been but as the time passed and he continued to do it, I didn't mind it. 

But Joaquin was an enigma in itself.

He was someone I hated more than Tomas in the beginning, or did I even hate him? Ugh. He was someone whose presence irritated me because as much as I focused on him, he focused on me the same. He wormed his way through my defenses and by the time I realized, it was too late because he had seen it all. 

And he managed to make me feel this bizarre emotion that I never believed in.

"Daddy, daddy!" Holly came bustling in, a paper in her hands as she sauntered to the kitchen. "Look at what I made for you and Chey Chey!" She handed him a paper, smiling in happiness as she waited for him to look at it. "Oh, baby girl, this is so beautiful. Man, you really are talented," The words leaving his mouth were sincere as he took in the sight of whatever it was on the paper.

"You gotta ask Chey if you can hang this on the fridge," He ruffled her hair and she nodded enthusiastically, turning around to face me as soon as I entered. "Hm, let me see it," I held out my hand, grabbing onto the paper when it was within my grasp. It was a really drawing of Joaquin, Holly, and I. 

She had really good skills because she drew herself on the back of Joaquin, her legs wrapped around his chest as he held my hand, using the other to pinch my cheek and my reaction was very well drawn.

"My, you are a very perceptive child," I smirked, walking over to stamp the drawing to the stainless steel fridge. I almost wanted to ask how she knew what to draw, but even a rat would know how much Joaquin likes to pinch my cheeks.

"Yay!" Holly screeched before declaring that she was going to her room to draw some more. I guess those supplies that Tara and Pierre got her. Joaquin and I shared a long look, one that I couldn't decipher the meaning.

"I'll take over," Tara said with a smile and Joaquin nodded, handing her the ladle. I motioned for him to follow me as I climbed the stairs, four at a time like I was some child, heading to my bedroom. "Oof," I exhaled, pulling open my Macbook once I was situated on my bed, going to the tab that I was on earlier.

I scrolled through the men's apparel, smiling in glee. "Hm, this is a nice shirt, I think I'll get it," I whispered, adding it to my cart. "Don't spend too much, Cheyenne," Joaquin said with a raise of his brow. "We're trying this thing, you know, a budget?" He smirked and I rolled my eyes with a pout, seeing that he was still wearing the watch that I gifted him.

He he.

"But what if I wanted to get you some things? You deserve it," I grinned and he gave me a look that shut me up instantly. "Get me things? No thanks, I'm not a charity case that needs doting on. I can get my own things," He spat with a shake of his head and I frowned, not liking his choice of words.

"How dare you think that?" I wrinkled my nose in anger. "I don't think of you as a charity case, Joaquin! I think of you as my lover who I want to spoil to my heart's content, you god damn asshole!" I was getting annoyed by his attitude towards everything. I understood that since he had lost everything, he didn't want to be indebted to people, but it was no fucking crime for me to take care of him just like he took care of me.

Fucking old men and their egos.

"And another thing, do you even love me?" I whirled around on him in a daze, clicking my tongue in hurt. "I noticed that you didn't say it back," This man had the nerve to look sheepish while avoiding my gaze. "You did all that poking and prodding to get me to say it but when it comes to you, you act like you don't know what the emotion is." I folded my arms.

"I-I," Joaquin sighed, palming his face and I shook my head, standing up when I heard the doorbell ring. "Just—" I put a hand up, not wanting to hear anything else and not wanting to feel any more disappointed than I already was. "I'll be right back," I muttered quietly, ignoring the sorrowful gaze in his eyes.

I sighed heavily, treading down the stairs. What if how I felt didn't matter to him? What if he was still not ready to move on from his late wife? What if he was still stuck in that same time, unable to love anyone else but her? 

"I'm coming, damn it!" I snapped, hearing the doorbell ding for like, the fifth time, and it was getting on my nerves. I stomped against the hardwood, walking over to pull the door open. "WHAT—" My yell came to a cease when I realized that in this bright day, sun shining and all, there was no one standing here.

"Is this some kind of prank?" I growled, looking around to see no one within the vicinity. I narrowed my eyes as I stepped out onto the porch and all of a sudden, I heard a whish and a crack through the air and my eyes widened when I looked down to see my shoulder gushing out blood, small droplets smearing the concrete.

"W-what?" I stammered, staggering backward when I felt the burning pain shoot up my arm. "AGH!" I screamed in torment, unable to keep my balance and I found myself crashing against the floor. My hands were shaking, that much I could tell, and oh, was I crying? It felt like a hard punch that was never-ending and judging by the bleariness that was eating away inside of me, this blood, my blood, was not going to stop his flow. 

"Joaquin!" I managed to yell, hearing a ruffle from the bushes outside. I wanted to clutch my wound to stop the bleeding, but I just felt so tired.

"Cheyenne?" I heard an anguished voice, one that sounded like it was on the brink of tears as I blinked up at the ceiling, unable to keep my eyes open. "Cheyenne—oh god, Cheyenne!" 

The sound of footsteps was the only thing I heard as I fought to keep myself breathing steadily. What just happened? Who did this? "No, no, no, no," I heard frantic muttering as Joaquin clumsily fell down to my level, his eyes widened in a cold realization. 

"Keep your eyes open, baby! Please!" I had never heard such a grief-filled voice, full of utter fear and pain-staking agony as my body was jostled into a lap, warm liquid leaking out of the hole. Oh, I blinked in confusion, feeling lightheaded. Was that my blood? "Tara, call 911!" I heard someone yell, tears falling onto my face as I realized that they weren't mine. 

"J-Joaquin?" I coughed, unable to breathe as I reached a hand up to touch his saddened face. He grasped my hand so tightly, I feared that he'd break it off, as he began to kiss it, uttering such worries and fears. He was inconsolable, practical gibberish leaving his lips and suddenly, my eyes fluttered as my arm fell to the ground with an audible pop. "Keep your fucking eyes open!" 

But they wouldn't stay open.