Beautiful Disaster

Immediately as they stood, Ysabella latched onto his arm once more. At this point it didn't seem to bother him much, and thus she wasn't going to stop anytime soon. She enjoyed the close proximity; not only was his body wonderfully muscular against hers, but his grip never failed to make her feel secure. And in a city as big and as bustling at San Diego, that was a feeling Ella craved more than anything.

As they stepped out onto the street, Ella bit her bit, surveying the area around them. She had never dared to venture into the city, much less the downtown core with people walking and yelling this way and that. Most of them towered over her small frame and as shrunk into Cam's side, shielding herself with his hulking form.

“I...,” she began, looking up at him. When their eyes met she hastily looked away but then smiled, “how about... park? I want feed animals, like in movie.”
Cameron smiled softly, reaching out a hand but instantly dropping it, keeping in mind their settings. "Of course, sure."

And with that he guided her further into the heart of their city, pushing past the people who gawked and grinned at the Ford man, and the small, Middle Eastern woman clinging against his side. Luckily, the immense amounts of people in the streets thinned as their approached the central city park, bustling more with pigeons and small children. Ysabella smiled at the white doves floating about, angels against the much less desirable grey and blue pigeons. When she approached with a small handful of feed in her fingers, they immediately flocked to her.

“Oh!” Ysabella gasped, backing up and away from the raging birds. They squawked incessantly for their food, daring to come close to her.
In a haste Ella backed up, only to fight that her back stumbled into Cam's chest and his strong arm came to wrap instinctively around her waist. Then she watched as he grabbed a bit of the seed from her palm and threw it at the hungry birds, casting them farther away.

Ysabella laughed and shook her head as his arm dropped, “they look beautiful... but so angry! Like little beasts running around, waiting for next meal. They peck finger off if I let near!” She watched as they nibbled at the ground, the males fighting off each other for the feed.
Cameron stifled laughter, murmuring, "Here," as he grabbed the food. "Usually we throw it away from us instead of trying to chance our finger being bitten off." He threw the rest of the food a few meters away from them as the birds fed contently.

Ysabella smiled as she watched them, dusting the rest of the seeds off of her fingers. Immediately one of the small doves approached, nibbling at the ground where she had just discarded the remnants of the seeds. Ella backed up in fear, approaching Cam once again who just laughed at her.

“They evil, Cam!” she laughed, “now we go before they start looking for more!”

And so they left the birds behind, stationing themselves onto one of the shaded park benches. The wind rustled through the trees, casting a cool and soothing breeze over them both. Ysabella adjusted her scarf as she stared off into one of the expansive fields, two dogs romping about on the grass.
She smiled, but her lips immediately returned to a frown when she noticed a group of tall men approaching, large cameras in their hands. “Cam?” Ysabella prompted, gesturing to the group, who were now picking up their pace towards them.
 
Early afternoon had been nothing short of enjoyable thus far, that was, until the camera-ridden hounds were let out of their cage, already starting towards the pair sitting on the bench. He watched the sight in bewilderment, feeling Ysabella’s fingers tighten around him, frightened. “Shit,” Cameron cursed, automatically helping her off the bench. He wanted to tell her to hide in case the camera’s became too much but feared the woman wouldn’t enjoy them being split up, either. He almost grabbed her hand and made a run for it before the paparazzi was surrounding him, cameras flashing in every direction.

“Mr. Ford!” one cried, a stout man with a microphone to his lips. “Is it true you decided to send Miranda Churchill to Italy by herself, your fiancée, right?”
Cameron stammered for the words, barely muttering a, “Yes, that’s true,” before turning to find an exit from the enclosed circle, Ysabella’s whimpers becoming more apparent. If he had to punch down one of the bastards, he would. It was his idea in the first place to get out of the house, and he didn’t want Ella to suffer for it.
“Mr. Ford, Mr. Ford! Please answer this question! When’s the wedding, and will there be media coverage?”
“I have no idea,” he responded, ushering her towards another wall of the flashing cameras. It seemed like more and more were piling in, spotting a Ford outside of duty one of the rare opportunities paparazzi pounced on.
“C-cam, please,” Ysabella whispered.
“Who’s this woman, Mr. Ford? Is she Miranda Churchill’s house maid?”
“She seems to be Middle Eastern – headline now: Cameron Ford spotted with exotic foreigner in Rosedale Park!”

Cameron clutched Ysabella tightly, forcing his way through the crowd as they darted down the strip of cement. He could hear the news crew behind him, video cameras following the chase until they found an abrupt turn that led into a network of trees. Although it was an artificial sanctuary, they seemed to have lost the paparazzi for the time being. Cameron automatically turned to the woman, gripping her hands tightly as he whispered, “I am so sorry, Ysabella. I didn’t know that would happen.” Even though he was very used to the media attention, she certainly wasn’t, and he didn’t want to screw up their perfect day so easily. Cameron should have known walking out into public would be a bad idea, especially since the paparazzi were like sharks – vicious and hungry for more information.

She blinked a few times before looking up at him, "It... it not fault. But what they say about us? This is why I scared of outside..."
Cameron let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. To be honest, he had no idea what they meant by their words. Amongst the paparazzi could be equally as snarky gossip rags, which prided in fabricating horrible stories about celebrities with a single photo. “I have no idea,” he murmured. “I’m sure it won’t be too bad, and even if it is, Miranda won’t believe it.”

Wishful thinking.
 
Ysabella shook her head, knowing well enough that the American press had little mercy for the elite. She had seen numerous reports that Miranda had left laying around, and the young woman had wept many times about degrading and untrue headlines, often pertaining to her expenditures in foreign countries. Already Ella's mind was filled with thoughts, false headlines and heartbreaking news about what the wealthy man was doing out with his fiance's housemaid.
Much worse to Ella, however, were the pictures they had snapped; she knew it had been a bad idea to leave the house without her niqab.

Ella wrapped her arms around her waist, “I think we go back, now.”
She didn't even want to know how many people were waiting for them out there, cameras poised and pens on their little papers.
“Alright," he agreed softly.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
"It's okay," Cam replied. "This was a bad idea."
Ysabella nodded her head solemnly, following him out of the small enclosure.

~ ~ ~

They made it back to the mansion in the suburbs about an hour later, their ride completely void of conversation. It took all of Ysabella's strength to burst out into tears right in the passenger seat; not only did she mourn the loss of a beautiful day out, but also feared that her family now had the means to track her down.

When they entered the house, the floor was still littered with burned down tea lights, clothes and condom wrappers strewn about all over. Before they made it out of the foyer, however, Ysabella turned to Cam and rested her forehead against his chin. “Maybe you go home, Cam.”
Cameron nodded solemnly. "I should - loads of work to finish. I guess I'll see you whenever I see you."
Ysabella nodded her head simply before abandoning him completely, pulling her scarf back over her mouth as hot tears began to slip from her baby blues.
 
Cameron bit his lip, swallowing that last portion of Hennessey while tapping at a file with a blue point pen as he had been for the last two hours. His thoughts and emotions were completely distraught, thinking back to their earlier activities – from cuddling in bed and enjoying each other’s company to ending their romantic weekend a day short, both clearly upset. Cameron didn’t mean to make problems worse for her, and felt like shit for doing so. Without him urging her out for breakfast, they would have never encountered the situation. Since the day he had met, he had been doing things to her, in one way or another, that generally made her feel uncomfortable or disconcerted. Maybe they were just too different to ever come together; her running away from the attention and him being showered in it nearly every second of the day.

He finished as much work as he could, pushing away any other mental strain before retiring to bed, but staring up at the ceiling. It wasn’t until Cameron finally started to doze around midnight that his phone rang, Miranda’s number flashing across the screen. He felt nauseous, and that guilt, like a delayed reaction, filled his being. Cameron almost admitted to everything going on between him and Ysabella before quickly remembering her job would be on the line if Mir knew. He couldn’t possibly cause her anymore pain, and therefore left the secret like an uncomfortable rock within the pit of his stomach.

“Hey, Cam!” she greeted excitedly. “I miss you so much, I can’t wait until this business trip is over.”
“I miss you too,” he barely murmured.
“You sound tired? You okay, babe? Tough day at work?”
“Guess you could say that.” Cameron bit his tongue.
“Well, just so you know, we’re staying over your parents for Christmas time – that way we can bring our two family’s together and discuss further arrangements.”
Cameron knew damn well what those arrangements were; it brought that feeling to his stomach again as he numbly nodded. “Yeah, yeah, that sounds good, Mir.”
“Wonderful,” she responded. “I was even thinking of inviting Ysabella. I would feel terrible leaving her all alone at the house with no one to spend the holidays with.”
Cameron paused so long, Miranda was asking if he was still on the line, before finally whispering, “That’ll be good, Mir. Sure.”
“Alright, well, I guess I’ll let you sleep, I know it’s late there and you sound exhausted. Take care, babe. I love you and will see you on Monday!”
Thank god she hung up before he could open his mouth.

Cameron laid on his back, after placing the phone on the counter, pressing his eyes closed and fervently wishing all his problems would disappear. If only it were that easy.
 
After she heard the door slam behind him, Ella had ran downstairs to her bedroom, grabbing her large duffel bag from underneath the bed and beginning to shove what little she had inside of her. She grabbed her scarfs first, shoving them in without a care as to how wrinkled they became, then moving to her tops and pants.
Despite the smallness of her wardrobe, however, she failed to do up the zipper, instead catching her clothing in it and growing frustrated when it wouldn't zeal completely.

Jerking the pull back and forth, hot tears fell down Ysabella's face before she gave up completely, slumping over the bag and weeping. She sobbed for quite some time after that, knowing her impulsive packing and will to leave this place were without outcome; she couldn't leave this place... not now. She had no money to take her somewhere, no place to go. Also, she couldn't just leave Miranda like that... after years of working for her, the last thing Ysabella wanted to do was leave a bad impression.

After falling into her pillow, Ysabella reached for the phone.

“Cameron Ford,” his voice came on the second ring, and despite the late hour, his voice only hinted at a bit of grogginess.
“Cam?” she whispered, her voice breaking, “it... it... Ella.”
"Ella?" he repeated, as if surprised, although his voice was tired. "Hey."
“I'm sorry,” Ella confessed, rolling onto her back, “I just... I... scared.. when thing happen like that. I know you not understand where I come from, but it big deal to me.”
He paused before responding, "Yeah, I know. I completely understand, well I don't, but...I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have taken you out knowing the paparazzi stalked my every movement, especially with all this wedding stuff..."
Ysabella bit her lip before asking, “will you come back? I no like house, alone...”
Again, silence filled the line until he replied, "I'd love to, Ella. Sure."
They hung up quickly after that, and as she waited for him to return, Ella cleaned the house from their previous escapade. She wasn't sure if Cam was coming over to have sex or just talk – or both – but nonetheless, she doubted they needed a remainder of their time before this entire fiasco had happened. So she discarded the wrappers and candles, scrubbing pool deck and changing the bed sheets.

It wasn't until she was sipping on a glass of water, staring out into the night, when Cameron's car rolled into the driveway. Ysabella met him at the doorway and smiled, albeit it was small.

“I sorry I call late,” she murmured, reaching for his hand.
"No problem," he replied, moving in closer towards her. "I'm really sorry."
As he loosened her niqab from around her face and dragged it down, Ysabella told him, “you no be sorry. It not your fault... I sorry I upset, it just happen. But I want no person with camera to ruin end of week.”
Cameron nodded gently. "Agreed."
She pulled him back into the house after that, turning on the coffee pot before returning to his arms, wrapping her arms around his waist and breathing in his masculine scent. If she could have, she would have stayed there forever, his muscular arms protecting her and holding her close against him.

When the coffee machine beeped, Ella kissed his chin and quietly asked, “you want sex tonight? Miss Churchill get back soon...”
 
Cameron was unsure of how to respond. Even if it was tiny, and he knew she hardly meant it like that, the fact she was asking him, caused uncertainty to arise. He would never do anything she didn’t want to do, and given their state before she called him, he wasn’t sure if she was doing it for himself, or doing it for him just to patch things up. Cameron honestly didn’t mind talking; if that’s what she needed, what they both needed, he would willingly oblige. “I…it’s up to you what happens tonight. Let’s just worry about the coffee for now, and we’ll see what happens afterwards.” Before anything else, they had to make sure their emotions were in check. Emotional sex led to bad things, and the second their feelings got involved during something like that, they would both be screwed.

Ysabella sighed, "I not want all to be about sex, but it seems that how it go..."
Something inside Cameron changed. If they chose to not make it all about sex, that would mean their relationship was advancing, and that was the last thing he wanted, and he was sure if was the same for Ysabella as well. They couldn’t do this to each other – screw up their lives. Ysabella needed this job, and Cameron swore not to ruin it for her. So he was only posed with two options – fuck her, or leave, and he definitely wasn’t ready for the latter. He had to keep this casual, and talking about feelings and emotions would make things complicated.

Even though he wasn’t the type to be in it only for the sex, that’s practically what their relationship would always comprise of and nothing else. In all honesty, the only reason she probably called was for them to sleep together and the only reason he came was the same as hers. At least Cameron convinced himself of this fact.

“Forget the coffee,” he said abruptly, pulling her close to his muscular form. “You know what we both want, so we shouldn’t waste any time.”
She smiled into his chest, "okay."

~ ~ ~

The whole night was spent hungrily clawing at each other’s bodies - that same disconnected sex that Cameron loved with no strings attached. Her cries with each thrust clung to his mind, as well as the raging climax that followed. Sunday morning soon arrived, Miranda returning on Monday, and Cameron hoisted himself from the bed to see Ysabella sleeping. Quickly, he reached for his clothes, slipping them on effortlessly while grabbing his car keys. He had decided to make his exit while she was sleeping, figuring it was best for the both of them.
 
Ysabella didn't see Cam for the rest of the day, leaving an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. She had been disappointed to find him missing the next morning, his clothing scooped from the floor and his car missing from the front. Ysabella had convinced herself it was for the best; they had been getting too wrapped up in each other, and having him around when they weren't having sex only made her grow fonder of him.

She pushed all thoughts of him from her head as she showered and changed, readying for a full day of cleaning. Miranda would be arriving from Italy that next morning, and much to her surprise, Ella was glad. Perhaps after that, things would settle between both of them and Cam; they could distance themselves, and not be given the opportunity to just talk.
If solely screwing each other was what it took for their relationship to remain simple, Ella would commit herself to it. Casual sex would work when Miranda was away, and Ysabella would be sure to disregard him at all over times.

~ ~ ~

When Miranda arrived home the next day, her face was glowing; she looked more tanned than before, and her eyes were sparkling. The latter led Ysabella to believe that she had stopped by Cam's on her way over, or that he was expected to visit later on in the day.
She could see the pure love for the man in Miss Churchill's eyes, forcing Ysabella to push any feelings she had for him farther away.

“Oh Ella, you have to see all the beautiful things I bought!” she gushed, dragging her suitcase into the living room and immediately popping it open.
With a glass of wine in her hand, Ella offered it to Miss Churchill before settling down on the couch. The young woman immediately broke into her belongings, looking like a kid on Christmas morning as the garments began to fly in a circle around her. When she found what she had sought, packing in a lace covered black box, Miranda's grin only widened.
Soon she had extracted the lingerie from the box, her cheeks darkening as she showed the red and black corset, matching stockings and panties in the tissue still. “I know it's a little raunchy, but it's just what we need... I couldn't pass it up when the saleswoman showed me it, either! Do you think he'll like it?”
Ysabella stared at the garment momentarily before looking back at Miranda's excited eyes. She just nodded and then abandoned her once more to rescrub the kitchen counters.
 
Cameron hated himself for having Ysabella on his mind even when he tried to focus on work. Leaving right after sex was horribly uncharacteristic of him but needed to be done to establish those boundaries in their relationship. This would prevent them from developing any other feelings outside of the obvious attraction for each other, making this simple. Cameron liked simple. It was easy. And with Miranda returning today coupled with the invitation she had sent him to stop by the house tonight, he had to forget whatever happened between Ysabella and him. With such thoughts, he wondered how his mother would feel, or his family as a whole. They would never expect such a thing from Cameron, one of their most responsible sons. He pushed all those thoughts to the deepest crevices of his mind as he straightened his white button up, leaving his pent house for Miranda’s place.

~ ~ ~

“You’re here!” she squealed, running up to him as she draped her arms around his shoulder, pressing kisses all over his lips.
“Here I am,” Cameron responded with a cunning smile, although it nearly dropped when he saw her in a sultry red robe, nostalgia of several nights ago coming back. His stomach twisted and he wrapped her up in another amorous kiss to hide obvious facial expressions.
“You’re so loving,” she commented, pinching his cheek with a laugh. “But come on in, I have a little surprise for you. Although, rule number one, as soon as we hit that pool deck, no clothes allowed.”
Before Cameron could comment, she was lugging him inside and out to the crystal waters, already heated with a bucket of champagne by the pool side. He felt like this was the devil silently torturing him for his breaking of nearly all the seven sins. Fuck his life.
But when that robe dropped and that girlish smile spread across her lips, he felt that swelling in his chest, a genuine grin falling across his lips. Ysabella had to leave his mind right now; tonight was all about Miranda and he intended to keep it that way. Cameron would never understand his feelings if he didn’t willingly confront them and he was serious about making things work with Miranda. They could have a chance.

He quickly stripped down to his bare form, grabbing her by the waist and diving into the water with her as her screams and giggles filled the air. Their lips united against the pool side as he hoisted her up, fingers tangled in his hair as Miranda’s cries of pleasure sounded. For a split second, he was mindful of Ysabella overhearing but that disintegrated as soon as she yelled his name, asking for more. Cameron gladly gave it to her.
 
Ysabella had turned in early that night, knowing well enough that soon Cam would be over and there was no way she wanted to face him with Miss Churchill in the room. So after showering rapidly, scrubbing at her skin until it turned red in protest, Ella snuck underneath her plush comforter and closed her eyes.

Like they had since that weekend, her thoughts immediately drifted to Cameron.
However, what disconcerted her most was the fact that she did not envision having sex with him; instead, she recalled the times they had shares sans sex. They had been simple, non-romantic moments, but consumed her nonetheless. The protectiveness he exuded around her, the easy things he had enjoyed, like walking in the walk or sleeping by her beside.
She instantly regretted sleeping with him so early... or at all. A friendship would be wonderful, truly simple. Ella could have confessed to him all her secrets, and not a soul would have something to suspect. And yet they had ruined that prospect early on... they were like cocaine to one another, one taste and they were both shamelessly addicted.

Her throat dried as she recalled he and Miranda's pending marriage. As much as she tried to push any jealously or malice she held back, her efforts were fruitless; knowing that she would truly be his mistress when they did marry unsettled her greatly.

Licking her lips, Ella pushed herself up from the mattress and travelled up the stairs, her hands soughting out a glass of water in the darkness. Just as she turned on the tap, however, sounds from outside caught her attention. At first, they sounded animalistic, groaning and moaning... but as she rounded the corner to the living area, and realized that Miranda's voice was calling out Cam's name, her heart dropped into her stomach.

She knew exactly what they were doing out there, and yet as if to fully acknowledge it, Ella peaked around the corner.
When she caught glimpse of Miranda, perched on the edge of the poolside with Cam's hips continuously connecting with hers, her heart suddenly jumped up and into her throat. Ella immediately ducked back around the corner, feeling her body warm with grief and heartbreak.

As she rushed back down into the basement, her glass of water forgotten on the kitchen counter, Ella fought back the tears. Memories of sitting in that very same position, Cam's eyes awfully close to hers and his hips even closer, plagued her mind. She coughed, realizing that right now Miranda saw the exact same thing she had.
Then she grabbed her duffel bag, slowly beginning to fold her items and place them inside.

She'd quit tomorrow... and that would be the end.
The end of this madness; of worrying, or having her heart broken. She'd never have to be the test dummy, or the one that always lurked in the shadows. Cam's heart would belong solely to Miranda, and hers to his. He could focus on her as he was meant, and not need to worry about sneaking off to Ysabella in between.
Tomorrow, she'd be out of his life forever. Where she'd go... she wasn't sure; but at this point, being murdered was better than this pain, already killing from the inside.

~ ~ ~

Hours later into the night, Ysabella heard her door creak out. At first she disregarded it, still half asleep, but when a large hand reached out and moved her hair from her face, she jumped.
When she opened her eyes, her eyes flitted with excitement, seeing Cam in the darkness. When she recalled what had witnessed the night previous, however, her smirk faded and she pressed her frown into her pillow.
“What?” she whispered.
Cameron ran a hand through his hair momentarily, murmuring, "I came to say I'm sorry for last night. I want you to know I'm not the hit and run sort of type, it's just...I don't want things to become complicated between us."
Ella pulled her comforter up a bit higher, nearly to her chin. Then she told him, “no sorry. I understand it just sex now.”
He nodded solemnly, eyes downcast. "Yeah, I know. I just still wanted to apologize anyways."
Without meeting his eyes, Ella nodded. Then she turned onto her other side and closed her eyes, praying that he would take that as a signal to leave her be. She knew that if she looked at him too long, her vow to leave tomorrow would rapidly change. Luckily, he got the message, and after touching her hair gently once more he left, his footsteps echoing up and back into the master bedroom.
 
Due to business engagements, Cameron hadn’t been around Miranda’s a lot, although their late night calls were enough to suffice for now. He was scheduled to attend the grand opening of a brand new building in San Francisco, and had to be at the grounds by ten AM sharp. Paul would be accompanying him for the car ride up, a last minute engagement that Cameron wholeheartedly agreed with given all the shit he had to deal with the last few days. He hadn’t spoken with Ysabella since the night he apologized and she hadn’t made a move to call either. Both he and Miranda were busy and didn’t have time for other engagements, excluding the phone calls, so he never had the chance to come over. Cameron fervently wished Ysabella was okay; he didn’t want her to think they weren’t friends, either.

“You’ve been quiet lately, man,” Paul commented, staring out at the road as they sped down it. “But rest assured, I won’t prod you on it until you’re ready to tell me, but I can try my damn hardest to get your mind off of it. After your opening, we’re going to spend the entire day with two gorgeous models shipped from Switzerland, we’re going to get hammered like we did in the old days, and you’re going to forget about whatever’s been pulling you down.”
Cameron couldn’t help but chuckle at his offer, shaking his head with a grim smile. “That sounds amazing, believe me, but I’m trying to patch things up with Miranda and I don’t think being caught with a model shoving her tongue down my throat will solve anything.”
Paul shook his head, “Don’t know what you’re missing out on man, but if you want, we can have some good ol’ PG fun and catch a movie or something. There are a few good ones out.”
Cameron contemplated it for a second, letting out a sigh. “I’d love to, but--”
“I’m busy,” Paul concluded with a frown. “Look, bro! I’m trying to help you here. We’ve been friends forever and it’s my duty to pick you up your depressive ass and get happy. Now we’re going to the movies, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
He rolled his eyes, responding with a, “Fine.” Just like old days, Cameron could rarely decline his friend successfully and was therefore lasso’d into another commitment. Maybe he needed the distraction from Ysabella and Miranda and love and emotions in general; hanging out with a friend was the best thing he needed right now when Christmas time was around the corner and things would get considerably more serious.

They soon arrived at the opening party and Cameron spent all two hours answering questions about the newly opened firm, snapping pictures, and pretending to give a shit about the crime rate in California with a few of his colleagues. By the time everyone was filing to their lavish cars and limos, he stalked out to the parking lot, Paul treading behind as he flirted with a tall brunette. His phone buzzed within the depths of his pocket and he unlocked the screen to see Miranda’s number, pressing it to his ear.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted. “Look, I have some news I thought you should know. I’m so sorry I couldn’t appear with you at the opening, hope I wasn’t too missed!”
“It’s okay,” Cameron replied, knowing her busy schedule. “Paul kept good company.”
“Oh god, Paul,” she muttered with faux disgust. Miranda had a love-hate relationship with his best friend. “But anyways, this morning Ysabella quit.”
Cameron’s heart automatically sunk to his knees, lips parting in stunned surprise. All of the emotions he had been bottling up since that night was now hitting him like a grenade, causing his knees to nearly buckle. “S-She quit?”
“Yeah, said she had to get away for awhile, something with her family. I’ll miss her, but in the fashion world we learn to move on and find better. So, Darya will be starting next week Tuesday. Let’s hope I actually get some conversation out of this housemaid.”
Cameron was too distraught to respond, simply murmuring an, “I’ll call you later” before hanging up. He pressed his hands against the roof of his car, eyes downcast as the thought truly hit him that he would probably never see Ysabella’s face again, or hear her voice. Cameron had never thought to retrieve any contact information from her, certain she would never leave. But she had.

His thoughts were a frazzled, emotional mess.
 
Ysabella escaped to a seedy motel in the slums of San Diego, checking it with what little money she had in her pocket. The bed was full of bugs and the dirty men in the rooms next door eyed her with both curiosity and lust, but the door locked, and that was what mattered most to Ysabella.
Immediately, she settled into the small dining table, scrawling down a brief letter to be mailed off to Yemen the following day.

أيها الأب اعتذر لي عن اختفاء طوال السنوات الأربع الماضية. لقد كنت ويتصور أن تبحث لي عبر العالم. لقد غادر العراق في عام 2008 هربا من اميركا, ويؤسفني أن أقول لك إنني لا. ومع ذلك, فإنني أعترف اسفه الآن كل الاخطاء التي قدمتها منذ ذلك الحين. كنت أدعو الله أن يتلقى مني وسعي الاعتذار عن الخطأ كما ادعوا, وأتمنى أن يعود إلى اليمن Ysabella.

Dear Father,
I apologize for my disappearance over the last four years. I imagine that you have been searching for me across the world. I left Iraq in 2008 in order to escape to America; I am sorry that I did not tell you. However, I now regret and acknowledge all the mistakes I have made since then. I pray that you will receive my utmost apologies for my wrong doings, as I wish to return to Yemen. I have learned that I am nothing without you; I have not married in America, and I do not wish to live here anymore. If you receive this letter, I request with most love that you reply. Once I have gathered enough money to return home, I will take a plane back to Yemen.
Again, father, I apologize for my disobedience. Please forgive me and my wrong actions.
Your loving daughter, Ysabella


Her Arabic scrawl was messy, the language almost foreign to her hands now. But as she read the letter, she knew that all of her feelings were poured out onto the piece of paper. Though it wasn't her greatest desire to return to her home country, and ultimately her father, she knew that her choice was for the best. After ruining her life here in America, she imagined that Yemen was much better suited to her lifestyle.
If she did get a response from her father, she knew well enough that he would set her up with an eligible bachelor, and she would marry just as her mother had many years ago. That was, as long as her father received her apologies well.
And even if he didn't, she was sure that death was better than living with this immense guilt, embedded now deep in the pit of her stomach. Ella knew that forever Cam would hold a piece of her, but she also acknowledged that she would never be able to have a piece of his. So she had left, in hopes that at the very least, her absence would benefit him.
 
Cameron had woken ass-up in a tub, his clothes completely disheveled from the night before. His vision was blurry until it focused on a tacky pink ceiling, a lone cockroach scuttling under a nearby radiator. He pressed a hand to his throbbing temples with no recollection of last night other than lights, a lot of them, and half-naked women. Cameron let out a groan, adjusting his body in the tub, no matter how much it pained him, into a sitting position. His blouse was open, nail marks on his chest scented with Victoria’s Secret perfume. He pressed his hands to the tub bottom, attempting to straighten up his body and walk over to the sink, examining his reflection in the mirror. His scraggy brunette hair was pointing in every direction, light blue eyes blood shot and tired, reflecting a night’s worth of hard core partying. Cameron ran a hand down his chest to something at first he thought was a black mark but was stunned to see it wouldn’t rub off. Unrecognizable Japanese symbols his left breast and he cursed at the sky before roughly buttoning his shirt.

What the fuck had happened last night?

Stomping out to the room, he saw his best friend sprawled out across the bed with four girls, all half-naked. Quickly, Cameron darted over to the curtains, drawing them closed in fear the paparazzi might find him and have a field day with this one. He reached down and threw a shoe at Paul’s head, exclaiming, “What the hell happened, bro?!” What happened to the PG fun he promised? Instead they were in god know’s what hotel with a bunch of, what he assumed, strippers!

“What…the hell, man?” He rubbed at his eyes, looking at the clock. Then, immediately he woke the girls, quickly telling them to leave. Once they were all gone he quickly explained, “You were freaking depressed. I mean, like, worse than the car ride. I couldn’t leave you like that! I just thought we should have some fun, like the good old times, remember?”

Cameron’s eyes floated to the table and suddenly, he knew why exactly he had no recollection of last night. Sitting on the nightstand were two tiny bangs full of white powder and a razor blade. He pressed his lips together, rushing over to him as he clenched him by the throat. “I haven’t done that fucking stuff in forever! Why would you let me do it?” More events began to flood Cameron’s mind in clarity as he slowly sobered up; sex with two girls in a bath tub at the same time wasn’t his favored fantasy.

“Revisit the past, man,” was all Paul said, getting up to dress himself. “Good ol’ times, remember that?”
“You know, you keep saying that,” Cameron said through gritted teeth, “but do you fail to remember we’re growing up? We’re not eighteen anymore!”
He clenched his jaw. “I was just trying to help, that’s all.”
“Well you didn’t! You made a complete clusterfuck of things, and I feel terrible.” Cameron glanced down at his phone to see a reminder pop up of meeting Miranda back at the house to pack and drive up to his parent’s for the holidays. Now he was spending it in a freaking hotel room strung out on drugs. He felt livid. “I have to go, and you can find your own fucking ride home, okay? I’m praying Miranda will forgive me for being three hours late to pick her up for a five hour ride to my parent’s house. She won’t stop calling. So thanks, thanks a lot Paul. Fuck yourself.”

With that, he grabbed his keys and stormed out of the hotel room.
 
It wasn't long before Ysabella found her face pressed into a musty hotel pillow, the scent of sweat and cheap men's cologne clinging to the fabric. Her body rocked back and forth, and occasionally soft moan left her lips, involuntary but welcomed by the other party nonetheless.

“Oh yeah, baby,” a man at least a few decades her senior groaned, his hips continually pressed against her bottom as she held in up in the air, shameless. He continually pumped in and out, his fingers occasionally finding her small bundle of nerves, roughly fondling it before returning his rough palms to her ass once more.
It wasn't long before the man had finished, discarding the condom into the trash before allowing her body to sink into the bed once more. She was on fire from all parts, and her shapely figure that it had been roughed around for hours. Ella could only hope that this man would leave by daybreak; she had already been kicked out of numerous hotels for soliciting, and tried to keep her 'business' to a minimum during the daylight.

When she rolled over onto her back and closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come soon, Ella squeaked when a set of teeth immediately caught her breast. Her blue eyes instantly popped open and she sat up, only to fight that the balding plumber was attempting to mount her again, his dick half limp.

Ella bit her lip. Twenty dollars closer to that plane ticket, she reminded herself. She knew that charging by the hour would have been more wise of her, but in just the past few days, she had become well known for the fact that any man could fuck her for the entire night, and all for a mere twenty dollar bill. It wouldn't be the first time that they men stayed all night, leaving her exhausted and sore for the next day. But twenty dollars closer to getting away from this place.

Over the last few days that she had opted to prostitution for an income, Ella had learned about the male population in general. All were unique, yet had some commonalities between them.
First of all, they all liked cheap sex – a tight woman for a small bill was enough to bring the unemployed and the wealthy alike. She had experienced them all, finding out their different quirks and fetishes. One had enjoyed sucking her fingers more than anything, while others, such as the one in the room right now, enjoying taking her from behind. Sometimes she'd pretend to come when they did, and sometimes she thought of Cam, and how easily he had made her toes tingle. That made her orgasm all every single time.

“Flip over,” the man demanded, his eyes stern.
Obediently, Ella did as she was told. It was almost immediately that the man forged himself into her once more, his manhood still partially soft, but his body eager to get every bit of his money out of her.

She buried her place into the pillow, moaning when he pushed in deeper.
Twenty dollars closer...
 
The car ride had been long, boring, and nothing Cameron hoped it to be. After days of being away from each other, he thought the conversation would be long and exciting, like it used to be when they were younger, but instead, she was either on the phone, sleeping, or criticizing his driving. A horrible thought struck him – what if it would be like this for the rest of his life? What If getting married to her would make their relationship considerably worse? At least being her boyfriend allowed some freedom, but offering her the ring? That would make things all the more real, but he knew it was expected during this stay, and preferably on Christmas. Cameron had this horrible paranoia that they were planning this all behind his back, as if they automatically expected them to get married. It would only make things much worse to potentially turn her down. Not like he would ever do such a thing, but regardless, he needed more time to think this over.

“Baby, the turn! Right there! We’re five minutes away,” she exclaimed, propping her glasses on her nose. “Christ, we’re already late because you and Paul decided to party all night long like you have no engagements whatsoever in the morning…”
“Please,” Cameron muttered, pinching the bridge of his noise. His system was already in shock from the drugs after it being out of him for so long – he didn’t need to hear Miranda screaming out him for a good six hours. “I know what I’m doing; I’m just taking the short cut.”
His thoughts flashed to Ysabella and how this car ride would be so much better with her. They wouldn’t fight or ignore each other – they would most likely talk about the wildest things for all six hours, and when there was a silence, it was far from awkward. Cameron missed her, and now that he was completely sober, his heart only ached to see her again.

She could have at least said goodbye…

Cameron swerved hard into the lane as Miranda gripped his thigh hard, prattling on about his driving skills and how he was going to kill them before the house finally came into view. He nearly kissed the ground in happiness, figuring it was Mir’s time or the month or something for her bitter attitude. Regardless, he was happy to be out of the car and into the luxurious log home, the scent of pies and other heavenly deserts wafting through the door.

“Cam!” his mother cried, clad in the finest of Dolce and Gabbana, before wrapping him in a bear hug and moving over to Miranda. “You two come on in, I’ll show you your room.”

~ ~ ~

After freshening up, Cameron and Miranda stepped down the stairs hand-in-hand before both their families, cheers in every direction surrounding them. At least forty people filled the room, his brother’s daughters and sister’s husband comprising partially of the crowd. Miranda leaned over to press a sweet kiss to his lips as Ford and Churchill’s made their way over to the dining room, rich with every variety of food, dozens of dining staff waiting on their hand and foot. Cameron wasn’t surprised to see both the families go all out to celebrate something that wasn’t even set in stone.

“Venues!” Miranda’s mother exclaimed. “We all want a beach wedding, around June twenty-ish?”
“Definitely in the evening,” Cameron’s mother inputted. “Not too hot, not too cold, just perfect.”
“Right, right,” Mrs. Churchill agreed.

Cameron tuned them out for the most part, picking at his plate as his sister jabbed him playfully. Her stomach was swelling with an unborn baby, short brown hair clipped framing her face. “What’s up, Cam? You look upset, or tired, or both?”
“I’m just tired,” he partially admitted, shaking his head as he threw his napkin at the table.
“Where are you going, Cameron son?” His father inquired curiously, although he wasn’t forcing, never forcing. Unlike his mother.
“I feel a little sick; I think it’s just the car ride. Please excuse me.” Miranda began to stand up but Cameron stopped her. “Stay, don’t let me ruin your good time.”

With that, he exited the dining room.
 
Another twenty dollars in her pocket, Ysabella showed the most recent of her customers, a lanky man that stood much taller than she did, out the door. She shut and locked it behind her before sliding down the back of her door, her cheeks warming and her belly aching. It had been a good two days since she had last eaten a proper meal; one man, a sweet and caring soul that apparently had issues with his wife, had bought her a double cheeseburger when he had heard her stomach grumbling. She had appreciated his care, but the food had only made her worse for wear the following few days. Now, she craved nothing more than a hot bowl of cereal or a glass of orange juice.
However, her money was solely reserved for her plane ticket back home. She had yet to receive a letter back from her father, and doubted he had the cash to pay, either.

Laying down on the bed, strewn with all sorts of bodily fluids and leftover oils, Ysabella began wonder about Cam. It had been at least twenty-four hours since she had last thought about it, and she wondered if he had forgot about her just as quickly.
She imagined that barely missed her, even if at all. If anything, he probably missed the way that he could fuck her without a care in the world. Outside of that, she knew that he meant little to her. Now, he was probably enjoying his premarital celebrations and the good life with his new fiance. It had been plastered all over the newspapers that Mr. Ford and Miss Churchill had formally gotten engaged, and for once, Ysabella actually believed the tabloids. With her out of the picture, she imagined that the choice would have been easy for Cam.

When she closed her eyes, Ella allowed her thoughts drift further. She wondered how life would be when she returned to Yemen, and how her father would react to her presence in his life once more. Ella did know one thing, however – she'd be married rapidly if she lived through her father's wrath, and she'd began to play the role her mother had many years ago. She'd cook and clean without mercy, take the beatings and hope that she lived to take care of her children. Still, any physical turmoil would easily outcompete the pain in her chest, surfacing from her emotionally draining escapades with Cam.

Rolling over, Ella opened her eyes to a knock at the door. Standing from the bed, she peaked out of the small window to see a familiar face staring back at her. The man, stout and rounded and in his late thirties, was one of her frequent customers... and one that enjoyed getting his money's worth out of her, even if she cried out in pain by the end of it.

Adjusting her scarf around her neck, Ysabella opened the door, allowing the man entry into her bed, where they'd remain for the duration of the daylight hours. Then, she'd take in another... and another. In came the twenties, more if she was generously tipped. More than anything, though, she just wanted a meal; someone to appear with another white and red bag, or a burger in hand. Her stomach grumbled at the thought, but she pulled her panties down her thighs nonetheless.
 
Cameron rested in the solace of his bedroom for what seemed like forever, a flurry of thoughts plaguing his mind. It felt like his whole life was beginning to rip at the seams and there was nothing he could do about it. The feeling induced an uncomfortable knot in his stomach, eyes flitting closed as he attempted to bring himself to that happy place. Ysabella. Cameron began to remember in great clarity how he had touched her, fingers grazing along the fabric of his shirt. Or the way she would try to hold back each and every raunchy cry as he ploughed into her, toes curling into the sheets, nails dragging down his back. He bit his lip, that soft moan escaping his lips as his hands delved a bit deeper, below the waist band of his jeans as the thoughts intensified. Cameron would do anything to be with her again; hear her voice. She could have said goodbye.

“Cam!” she moaned into his ear, hips thrusting towards him.

Cameron could hear his own groan in response, fingers wrapping around himself, memories of pleasure flooding back to his thoughts as if it happened yesterday. He allowed himself to picture Ysabella’s every exposed curve, the way her plush lips would slightly part for him to kiss it, cerulean blue eyes imploring him for more. Cameron quickened his pace, feeling that heat well in his center until he was slightly breathing her name, free hand bunching up a wad of silk bed spread.

At the moment, his thoughts felt locked away from the world, his surroundings seizing to exist. The wedding, Paul, his business…everything. He only pined for Ysabella, and could almost imagine her sweet scent and intoxicating laugh. Cameron felt that orgasm bubbling within him, biting his tongue until that copper-y taste filled his mouth, before letting it all go in several ribbons. A light sweat shrouded his taut skin, eyes popping open at the luxurious ceiling as he stilled. Cameron discarded of his ruined trousers in the wash basket, stripping down to the nude and heading to the bathroom.

He wasn’t sure how long he locked himself in that heated box, head pressed against the glass he watched the rain drops trickle down. Cameron promised himself he wouldn’t think of her – only remember her as that one exotic floosie he had shared a few sexual moments with. But he couldn’t – Christ, he couldn’t eradicate her from his mind, his memories. Cameron couldn’t even visit Miranda’s house without feeling terribly nauseous, each room they made love in practically screaming at him with grief.

She was just a goddamn house maid! They hadn’t even spent several months with each other for him to care so much, and the indescribable feelings filling his being couldn’t be tamed, or even ignored. Cameron made plans to fuck Miranda tonight, and hard. At least that was his Novocain until the beautiful foreigner instigated his private thoughts once more.
 
Ysabella burst out into tears over the bowl of the toilet, what little contents her stomach held pouring out and into it. She had been sick for at least twenty-four hours now, leaving her feeling more exhausted and drained than before. Even a glass of water disagreed with her stomach, but she forced them down, knowing that her stomach wretching was much more painful than purging the water. And yet she still took in customers, knowing that every one would bring her one sleep closer to home.
A few had refused to pay her, and powerless to stop them, Ella had allowed them to leave. Most claimed that she didn't do her properly... didn't please them enough... didn't moan, swallow, scream, touch... whatever. But they kept coming, and even as her body urged her to stop, Ysabella accepted them easily.

Curling into the linoleum floor, Ysabella gripped at her waist, her eyes fighting for sleep and her body for rest.
She regretted coming to this world instantly; at least in Yemen she was used to the tortures and monstrosities that plagued the country. Here, she was lost... she didn't understand the men, the way their cruel minds worked. They accused the Middle East of beating their women and bombing their people, yet they could cheat on their wives and throw away their money just for a quick fuck?

Ysabella's hands were shaking as she dragged herself into the next room, finding her familiar Arabic hand as she pleaded in another letter.

عم, عزيزة Mohammed,
وبعثت برسالة والدي السعي لاسقاط حكومته ومساعدتها لي في الحال. كنت أدعو الله في قلبي, انه على قيد الحياة وانه سيعود الى اميركا الحصول علي. ولكنني أخشى أن طريقة اعتذاري تستمع إلى آذان صماء. وهكذا, كبديل, نتوصل عم-لك, أدعو الله أن تقوموا انتشال لي من هذا العالم البائس وانقاذ لي. الرجاء, واعذروني أسرتنا حتى يغادر فجأة. وأتمنى اكثر من اي شيء مقابل. Ysabella.

Dear Uncle Mohammed,
I have sent my father a letter, seeking his forgiveness and help in my situation. I pray in my heart that he is well and alive, and that he will return to America to retrieve me. However, I fear that in one way my apologies will be heard by deaf ears.
So, as an alternative, I reach out to you, Uncle - I pray that you will pull me from this wretched world and save me. Please, forgive me for leaving our family so abruptly. I wish now, more than anything, to return.
Once more, I apologize and beg for your forgiveness.
Your niece, Ysabella


Ella's Uncle had been just as sinister as her father, and had more wives and children than Ella could count on her fingers and toes. But she knew that the man quite enjoyed the company of his docile niece, and thus Ella hoped to play on it, hoping that he would hear her cries.
Surely her letters would have to reach someone... she had addressed them under their full names, to the city where she had last known them to be. One way or another, Ella hoped that someone... anyone... would take her out of her misery.

~ ~ ~

A week later, a letter returned in the mail. Ella instantly knew that it was from her father, as she had sent his many weeks ago, awaiting a reply ever since.
The paper nearly smelled like him – a musky scent mixed with dirt and aftershave, so familiar and bringing tears to the young daughter's eyes.

ويؤيد Priya حلوة, وأنا أعرف أن ما كنت تعود الي. أنت تنعم في المقابل وتتلقى مني الصفح. ولكن عليكم العودة إلى اليمن لن تكون مهمة سهلة. أعترف أنك لا والعيش في الغرب وأمريكا... ولكن لي خيارات محدودة. أما إذا كان الأميركيون إلى لواء أبعث لكم, وأتمنى ألا تكتشف السلطات, ونشرها على آخر العائدون الأسلوب لك. أجزم لك أن أناشد الله يغفر لك.

My sweet Priya, I knew that someday you would return to me. You are blessed to return and receive my forgiveness.
However, returning you to Yemen will not be an easy task. I acknowledge that you no reside in the Western America... however, my options are limited. The Americans will flag if I send for you, and as I wish not to be discovered by the authorities, I will have to concoct another method of returning you.
For now, you must plead with Allah to forgive you. Only he will truly grant you access to this family and our world once more.
Your father


Immediately, shivers ran down Ysabella's spine – from the way he addressed her by her mother's name (something he had done without shame when she was child) to his forgiving, yet stern words... she was having all sorts of flashbacks. She did not miss him, but rather missed the familiarity of having him around. He always been by her side as a child and flourishing teenager, and seeing his disjointed, messy scrawl on paper was enough to send her back to the toilet once more.

Soon, the madness would end...
 
Christmas had gone by fast and soon New Years was rolling around, signifying the start of another year. While the house was filled with brightness and nothing but joy, Cameron was feeling like absolute shit. He hated the sight of wedding catalogs and planners running about the house, rings being chosen and honeymoon destinations in the progress. Miranda was being swept in every direction, but his. And with every day that passed, he felt like they were growing farther and farther apart. She promised things would never change after they became serious – that she would still be the same Miranda he had become friends with since childhood. But she had. Cameron had never seen such a side before and it made him feel positively sick – he didn’t want this, this wedding. Yet, she was urging it on without even thinking to inquire about his feelings. Miranda knew how Cameron felt about marriage, and how he went against it, for the most part.

Some days he began to wonder if she was even in this for him at all, or for the publicity that came with it, and the money. Cameron knew it was completely horrible to think so lowly about her, but she hadn’t made it easy to believe otherwise. He wasn’t in love with her and he took partial blame for leading her on for so long. Cameron should have refrained from repeating the three words to her so many times, but it felt almost instinctive to him, like putting together the thousands of fractured pieces of a vase just to realize it much too hard to repair – that their relationship was too hard to repair. The thought hit him like a brick, and as he inclined his shoulders huskily over the dining room table, his mood only grew worse.

Things didn’t get any better when his mother and his girlfriend were rushing in with glee on their faces as they flipped through another catalog. “Okay, okay, I know!” she exclaimed in between fits of giggles, “The groom isn’t supposed to see the dress but this is modern times, and well, I couldn’t resist!” She shoved the magazine in his face. Practically the whole family shuffled in, clad in their fanciest of afternoon clothing, his father leading the troupe with his car keys and a fresh cashmere sweater.

“We’re all going out on the yacht,” he announced. “It was kind of a last minute thing, and not the Ford family tradition of staying inside for movies on New Years, but, we figured since our two families our joining, we should make a new tradition of our own.”
That was officially Cameron’s breaking point. All of a sudden, every emotion and thought he had been feeling poured out like diarrhea of the mouth. “I can’t do this anymore!” he shouted, rising from his seat, his veins near pulsating. Throughout this entire ordeal, it felt like no one had take into consideration his thoughts or feelings at all. Cameron was done being run over, and simply going with the flow. This was his future they were meddling with, and he wouldn’t allow it anymore.
“Honey, what are you-” his mother couldn’t even finish.

“I don’t want to get married! I don’t want any of this. For fucks sake, I haven’t even proposed! All of you have been making plans behind my back as if I’m perfectly okay with it and not once have you come to me and asked how I felt about all this. I can’t do this, I really can’t.” Cameron’s eyes connected with Miranda’s hurt ones as he bit his lip. Above everyone else, she deserved the explanation. “Miranda…can I talk to you in private please?” He ignored the stunned silence surrounding him, gripping his girlfriend’s hand as he led her outside.
 
Ysabella had scrubbed at her skin furiously in the shower, as though the more layers of skin she peeled away and the redder the remaining flesh got, the more of the past she'd be able to forget. Every day, her thoughts floated to Cameron – first, she wondered how he was doing, and if he was enjoying his life as Miranda Churchill's soon-to-be husband.
Then, she proceeded to contemplate if he preferred not only having sex with her, but talking and laughing and enjoying her company more.

It wasn't something she had to think about for very long. It had become apparent to Ella the night when she had found he and Miranda having sex on the poolside that Cam had preferred his actual girlfriend much more than his mistress.

Ysabella wasn't quite sure what she had been expecting all along, and why seeing the two of them together bothered her so badly. After all, she was the mistress... and had known all along that she was the “other woman” in Cam's life, that she was his second option when Miranda didn't want to talk or make love.
For some stupid reason, she had thought that they had shared something more; something beyond the bedroom that translated in short walks in the park and playful conversations in the dead of night. Ella realized that she had been utterly foolish to believe that Cam saw her as more than just a test dummy. He had just used her, trying out different things on her to see how well they would please his wife-to-be.

After changing quickly into a t-shirt and tight jeans, there was a faint knock at the door. Sighing softly, Ysabella adjusted her bra and then revealed her visitors. She was surprised to see two men this time, both with dark facial hair and tall builds, on the other side.

“It double for two,” she murmured groggily, moving aside to allow them entry.

It wasn't until they passed through that Ella realized she recognized one. He was the man – Paul, she recalled his name easily – from the bar that Cam had brought her too early in their relationship. His face looked a little more gaunt now, much off his beard shaved away, but his raspy voice and slits for chocolate eyes were easily distinguishable.

After she locked the door behind them and began to discard her top, Paul approached, gripping at her hand. When their eyes met, she stood back, a little stunned – there was no lust in his eyes, just earnest care and concern for her.

“Ella?” he asked, voice low.
She eyed him momentarily, escaping his grasp before feeling her collected and solid demeanour melt away. Seeing such a big part of Cam's life right in front of her made her heart ache for reasons unknown.
Ella seated herself on the edge of the mattress, feeling the two sets of eyes boring into her, “please, if you not here for sex... go. I made money, no talk.”
Paul crossed his arms across his chest, “I'll pay for the next hour, Ella... I just heard from a friend what you were doing and had to come and make sure you were okay.”
“I fine,” she whispered, toying with the comforter edge, a nervous habit.
The man shook his head in clear disagreement, “you don't look fine... like you haven't slept or eaten in awhile. Did you want me to go and grab you something to snack on?”

Instinctively, Ella's arm wrapped around her waist. As the days wore on without food the hunger had melted away, leaving her with an awful sickness in the pit of her stomach. She managed to shake her head in a silent “no”.

“I fine...” she repeated.
Paul scratched at his scalp, “Cam wouldn't want you to be like this, Ella...”
At the sound of his name Ysabella stood from the comforter, ushering her guests out of the room. Paul protested, but when he saw the pain in her eyes, he didn't resist her gentle pushes. She shook her head, “Cam no care... now leave. I business, work...”
 
“What the hell was that, Cameron?” Miranda asked, once they were out on the porch, both hurt and confusion dancing in her eyes. Cameron hadn’t prepared himself for this moment and found himself pinching the bridge of his nose as he gestured her to take a seat.
“You should probably sit down,” he whispered, voice barely audible as he stared out at the miles and miles of well-manicured forest land surrounding them. Miranda took a seat uneasily, lips parting to say something but he gently quieted her. What he was about to say would be much easier off his tongue if she didn’t think to intervene. “I…Miranda, do you think our relationship is going anywhere?”
Her eyebrows raised, lips slightly quivering. “What do you mean, Cam? Of course, I love you.” She reached for his hand, but he made no attempt to grab hers. Cameron knew acting detached would only make this easier. Did acting detached to Ysabella help you at all? His mind screamed, but he ignored the thought, pushing it to the back of his brain. Cameron couldn’t think of her, not now. “D-don’t you love me?” she whimpered.
He paused for several seconds before barely muttering, “Not in the way you think, Miranda.”
“What do you mean not in the way I think?” she hissed, tears stinging at her eyes. “You either love me or you fucking don’t!”
He ran a hand through his hair uneasily, sitting down on the couch and staring at the ground. “I love you as a friend, Mir. You’re my best friend, and-and this relationship only fucked it up.”
Miranda’s jaw dropped as the first tear fell, only to be replaced with fury. In a second she was grabbing a pillow off the couch and hurling it at him, trying to control her cries. “You fucking lied to me you bastard!” she screamed, her choked sobs filling the space. “You led me on!”
Cameron grabbed the pillow, clenching her wrists as he tried to still the flailing woman. “Please listen to me,” he whispered in her ear, as the tears fell. Cameron had been causing a lot of girls to cry lately and it was absolutely taxing on his own emotions. “You know this wasn’t working out, Mir. You knew it. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept telling you I loved you when it wasn’t meant in that way. I screwed up. I’m so sorry.”
Miranda reeled from his grasp even though she was just sniffling and wiping at her face. “Is there another woman, Cam? Please don’t lie to me – please,” she gasped.

Cameron had hit a speed bump. If he told Miranda about Ysabella, she would find some way to harm the woman. He had no doubts that a Churchill would make it especially hard for someone like a mute housemaid to find work in all of the West coast side ever again. He didn’t want to cause her anymore pain – chasing her away had already caused numerous complications.

“No,” he whispered solemnly. Even though Cameron had feelings for Ysabella, it wasn’t the reason he was breaking up with Miranda. This six year relationship had begun to crumple a long time ago, and he had just been too scared and too oblivious to acknowledge it. But now he was, and even with Miranda’s tears he felt oddly relieved – like a huge weight was being lifted from his shoulders. Cameron knew he was doing her a favor by ending things before they were bound by marriage forced into a divorce. No doubt the media would go positively ballistic about this, as well as their families, but he was beyond giving a damn.
“Okay,” she murmured inbetween sobs. “J-just, I-I have to go, get away…I have to, Cam.” Cameron reached for her knee but she moved it away. “Please don’t.”

Cameron simply nodded, pressing his hands together as Miranda stood to get up. But before she left, she barely murmured, “Was it me, Cam?”
“It was the both of us,” he responded, voice catching with the wind.
She burst out into another fit of tears before slipping inside and slamming the door.