Hi, guys

so this is a new story, a kind of a new version of a Chinese story i'm studying with the same title.

Darren will appear in the next chapter, which will be posted in a month. i know this is late but I have finals right now so forgive me.

i hope you like this story and tell me your opinions in reviews

until next time XOXO

I'm Susan. Today, was supposed to be the best day in my life because my boyfriend proposed to me. I should be happy but I'm not.

My boyfriend is a handsome guy; he has a Greek god body just like Myron's Discus Thrower statue.

He has a fair skin, high cheekbone, a set jawbone and brown hair. His eyes were dark brown and he came from a wealthy family. With his features, he could make girls turn into a puddle on his feet.

However, I don't know if I want to marry him or not because I don't know what I like in him or what he likes in me.

In my case, people will say that I'm a brat who don't see anything satisfying. But I'm not, I feel like there's something missing.

Mark, my boyfriend, and I have been in a relationship for two years, but I still don't know so much about him. Maybe it's because he doesn't speak a lot. Even when I ask him for his opinion on anything, he answers me with "good" or "bad" just like children.

One day, I asked him why he loves me. He spent so much time to answer me as if he searching in every cell in his brain for an answer. I felt like I surprised him with my questions and he wasn't ready. Finally, he answered me "because you're a good person."

His answer was a knife that stabbed me in the heart leaving a loneliness feeling.

"Thank you, Mark." I answered with a fake smile.

When I ask myself would we be able to build a family together, theoretically yes. We are the perfect combination of a happy couple. We will be able to raise good children that will benefit the society when they grow up. Still it wasn't a good reason to marry the guy.

When I was young, I used to say that I wouldn't fall in love and get married. Because for me at that time was something that you see in movies but not in the real world. Now I'm not sure about this.

I miss my mom. I wish she were still alive; she would have told me what to do with mark. And if I should marry him or not.

Whenever I'm in a trouble, I think of her. Not because she faced many problems in her life, but because I feel like her spirit guiding me through my life. For me, she wasn't only my mother; she was my best friend. She was the best mom you could wish to have. I don't remember a day where she lectured me about something I did wrong. She was always telling me stories about her mistakes and her proud moments. From her life and through them, I see my mistakes. In her life, mistakes were more than her proud moments, but it didn't change how great she was in my eyes.

a day before she passed away, she said "Susan, if you are not sure what do you want, then I see that it's better to live single than unwittingly get married." those words were summary of her life. But why did she told me that? Isn't living alone a misery? She wouldn't want me to be miserable; she loved me, didn't she?

"but Mom, I don't want to get married." I said to her on that day.

"If you found the perfect man, you have to marry him. Remember, the perfect man for you." mom said warning me.

"but what if I didn't find him?"

"He's out there but it's hard to find him because we live in a big world. What I'm afraid of is, will you recognize him when you see him or not?"

"But you did find him, right?" I said wiggling my eyebrows.

"Who told you that I did?" she snapped at me.

"I felt so." I winced, I wasn't used to her snapping at me.

"It wasn't like that for me..." she stopped talking and stared sadly into nothing. For me she looked like a withered flower that was forgotten in a book.

"Why it wasn't like that for you?"

"Enough questions." she snapped again at me, but this time I felt that it wasn't because she felt annoyed by my questions; it was that she was hiding something. Something that she was afraid that I would misunderstand or judge her for it. But that intrigued me to disobey her and ask more questions.

"Did you love my dad?"

"No, I never did."

"Did he love you?"

"No, he never did."

"Then why you got married then, huh?" she was silent for a while, searching for the words to explain the reasons in a way that I would understand her.

"When you are young, you might be not sure about what you want or what you need. It only takes some convincing from people to get you to marry someone. But when you grow up and understand what it was really important to have, it would be too late to back off. You pay the price of your stupid decisions and you can't just start a new life, just like that." she snapped her fingers.

I cannot remember my dad, he and my mom got divorced when I was just a toddler. However, I remember when my mom shyly told me that my dad was a handsome man who came from a noble family. she would tell me that he was always a gentleman who knows how to treat women. Now, I know why she got married to him, because who would refuse a guy like that. He was perfect by any standards. but she wasn't happy with him that's why she regretted it. I always thought that if she did got married again but to one that she loves, would she have been happy happy or the problem was with the idea of marriage itself?

Even though my mom's life wasn't beautiful, she had a beautiful and simple soul. The songs she had wrote were spiritual, that inspired a lot of youth. I used to joke with her telling her "from your songs, I'm sure that many people have fallen in love with you."

"But if they know that they're in love with an old woman whose face is all wrinkled and her hair is white, they would run away." she would say laughing.

It was hard to believe that in her age she hadn't found what she wants from life. Was it because she had insecurities that I didn't know about?

Every time she travels to work, she would take a book of her Harry potter collection. I remember asking her once to lend me one to read it, but she refused and bought the whole collection for me. Even when one of her friends asked me to lend him a book because he needed to take some quotation from it for the series he was working on, so I gave him one of hers. but when she found out what I did, she quickly went to him to replace it with one of mine. and when she came back, it was one of the few times that I saw her angry.

"Don't ever touch these books." she shouted.

I was curious about why she loved those books so much. She probably have read them billion of times, how she never got tired of them. I loved Harry potter too but not like that.

There was one time, I woke up out of thrust and went to the kitchen to get some water. but on my way I saw a faint light coming from mom's room. I knocked the door to ask her why she was up that late, but she didn't answer. I knocked again but still there was no answer. I thought that she might fell asleep and forgot to turn off the light, so I opened the door to turn it off but I found her holding one of the books with care, caressing the title of it lightly with her eyes looking fondly at it, with a smile on her face and a glass of wine on the table.

"Mom, why are still awake?" I asked startling her that she incidentally spilt the glass of wine on her dress. Her face was red as if she was a teenager girl that her father caught her making out with her boyfriend on the couch in her house.

"Ah...uh, I just couldn't sleep?" it came out as a question more than a sentence.

"Okay, I'll head to the bed. Good night."

Even her last words for me when she was close to die were about the books.

"Harry...Harry potter's" she said with difficulty.

"Yes mom, Harry potter's collection. what about them?"

"Burn them with me and here…" she pointed at her nightstand's drawer, "you'll find a notebook here; burn it with me as well." she said with her last breath and then she died.

According to her will, I burnt the books with her, but I couldn't burn the notebook. What if in there were some of her greatest songs ever? It would be great to have the world hearing new songs from her after her death.

But since her death, I didn't have the guts to open the notebook and read it, until now. I needed to feel her with me now more than ever.

I opened the first page and I identify my mother hand writing, she loved to paint as well which made her writing looks like calligraphy art.

love cannot be forgotten

the title didn't seem like a title for a book of songs, but seemed as if it was a story. that was funny, I didn't know that my mom had wrote stories before, I guess she wasn't sure that it would be good so she didn't tell me about it and wanted to burn it.

I flipped the page, I wouldn't care if it was a crappy story, this was the only thing left to me from her.

2/1/2020

I thought it would be a normal day at work. I was working in Colombia records...

this was my mother's diary.