Aria's POV

I walked up the stairs and into my room, fanning myself with the hem of my loose t-shirt. I entered the master bedroom of mine and Rose's small house and looked around. I spotted the closet and walked towards it. I grabbed the chair sitting next to my vanity and brought it to my closet. I stepped on the chair to lift myself from the ground and bring me at desired height. Some people might think that my height was adorable, but it surely never came in handy.

I felt a sharp pain in my stomach, but I let it slide. I had learned to get used to it over the years, and no matter how many times I assured my family and friends that I was perfectly fine, it never went away. I could lie to everyone around me so easily, but I never once fooled myself. I kept on living my life, regretting every day the decision I had made so many years ago and had made my life turn. Pain was a part of it, but I knew I had to endure it for the sake of my family. I had made the right decision, I kept repeating to myself. I had done what was best for Rosalie and for the first time in my life at the time, I had overstepped my own wellbeing for the sake of hers. Since then, my life had been a series of event gravitating around her. (You can elaborate on how she managed school and some work to support her daughter with the help of her parents…)

I felt around the top of my closet, moving boxes around in my quest for the Montgomery family photo albums. I took out a rectangle dark blue box out of the way and felt something restraining it. I tugged harder and a mini avalanche happened before my eyes. I sighed in exasperation and hoped off the chair, bringing the now free blue box with me. I crouched down next to the mess on floor and started tossing things aside. A cleaning session would be in order soon, I thought. I sat on the floor, reaching for a loose stack of papers. I went through a few of them, realizing they were mostly old drawings. As I set the first pile of old meaningless drawing, the sharp reflecting of the sun on a metal object caught my eye. I extracted the said object from the pile of accumulated junk and immediately recognized it. My breath hitched and I recoiled. My instincts pushed me to drop the chest and run as far from it as I could, but some strange feeling kept me straight where I was. Tears sneaked their way in my eyes as I reluctantly unfastened the metallic bolt and lifted the lid carefully, blowing softly on it to brush off the accumulated dust. Inside the old leather-covered chest resided my dearest treasures. A white now cracked plastic spoon. A pair of chopsticks. A few picture frames here and there. A withered corsage. Basia and The Fray tickets. Winesburg, Ohio. An entire chapter of my life rested in a simple antique leather chest that I hadn't opened in 10 years. A pile of letters fastened with a rubber band sat imposingly in the middle of the beloved box. Tears fell freely from my cheeks and let them.

I hadn't thought about that part of my life in so long, but when Rose had come to me about her family tree project and how she needed to trace down both of her origins, including her fathers, it struck a weird mix of emotions in me. I had always told her about her father growing up, how incredible of a man he was, or what he would do in such and such situation. Unless she had a concrete interrogation about him, she never seemed to be bothered by the fact that he wasn't around to support us. She had grown up with her uncle Mike as a male figure and she was proud of that fact. I worried that as she reached her teenage years and started figuring out who she really was, she would want to know more about him, and in the worst case scenario, to meet him. I pushed that possibility to the back of my mind, thinking that I could deal with when the time came. And now, I sat on my bedroom floor crying. That time was about to come, I thought, and there's nothing else I'd be able to do other than to deal with it. That statement scared me to no end, considering the way I'd left things with him.

I looked a t the clock and realised that Rosalie would be home from school at any moment now. I put the various treasures and picture I had pulled out of the chest back in it before I stood back on the chair to hide it securely behind other boxes. I stopped midway through my gesture, an idea springing in my mind. I placed the chest next to me on the chair and felt around the top of my closet until I found the items I was looking for in the first place: photo albums. I took a light pink one in my hands and lowered myself until I was in a sitting position on my chair. I flipped through the multiple pages and stopped at a certain picture. Rosalie was three at the time. Her long unruly curls fell around her head in a water fall and her striking blue eyes contrasted with the red and orange leaves around her. Some leaves were sticking out of her hair. The portrait had been taken right after she emerged from the giant pile of leaves I had just scrapped from our backyard. She was smiling brightly, her eyes filled with excitement. Her cheeks were pink from the slight drop in temperature the autumn day had brought. She looked loved, cherished, happy. She looked alive. I removed the picture from its plastic envelope and slid it in my memory box by a slit between the lid and the rest of the chest. Our story could never feel complete without her in it and if this was the only thing they Rosalie and Ezra were left with, they would know the entire truth.

The door slammed loudly downstairs and startled me. I quickly climbed back up on the chair to hide the leather box properly and took out all the photo albums for Rosalie to use. Just as I was climbing back down one final time, Rose came walking in.

"Hey mom!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly.

"Why, hello to you too. You scared the living crap out of me, young lady." I answered in a slightly reprimanding tone and she laughed.

"Sorry I really didn't mean to I swear. I still need my mom!" She replied apologetically, enveloping in a hug. I hugged her back tightly, kissing the top of her head.

"I'm glad, because I still need me baby girl." I held her for a few additional seconds before I released her. She looked at the floor and gave me an interrogated look.

"What's all this mess mom? Did I just catch you in the middle of your early spring cleaning?" She chuckled, knowing my obsession for a tidy environment.

"No!" I shot back in a mock blessed tone. "I was looking for our family pictures for your homework, sweet pea."

"Oh! Did you find anything good?!" she asked excitedly, sitting down and grabbing a random pile of papers.

"Don't look at these!" I exclaimed, reaching out for the drawings. She took advantage of my small frame and extended her arm farthest away from me so I couldn't reach them. she lightly shoved me away with her free arm and shook her head.

"You never let me look at your drawings mom, one time won't hurt!"

"You don't know how much it could…" I muttered under my breath, looking down.

"Hm?" she asked, not having heard what I just said clearly.

"Nothing." I answered, smiling. Giving up, I sat beside her and grabbed a plastic bag filled with old birthday cards.

"Mom you are such a hoarder oh my God! What is all this stuff?" she gasped, laughing at me.

"This is not hoarding, it's memories, okay!" I answered in a defensive tone and she shot me a 'cut the crap' look. We both fell in a fit of laughter and once we both caught our breaths, I agreed with her.

"You're so right. I'm a hoarder. A bad case." We both giggled and started rummaging through the pile of things scattered across my bedroom floor. At around six, I called to place in our order of Chinese take-out. It was exceptional when we ate some, but our girls' night seemed like a good reason to do so.

I came back in the room and watched from the door frame as she concentrated over a small piece of paper.

"What y'a looking at?" I asked curiously, peering at the paper she held. She removed it from my view before I could catch a glimpse and Ì frowned.

"It was just a quote." She said hurriedly, putting her interest in something else.

"What is it?" I asked, curious as to why she was being so dismissive.

"Life is not measured by the number breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." She recited, her eyes distant.

"Oh I love that quote." I answered. She selected a quite big piece of paper out of the pile that rested beside her and showed it to me. My face displayed no emotions, even though a million were running in my body.

"Who is this, mom? It's strikingly beautiful." She breathed, admiring the drawing.

The drawing showed a man with dark hair and contrasting lightly coloured eyes. The man was sitting in front of an old wooden desk, deep in concentration, writing. A typewriter and bookshelves rested by him and he was surrounded in stacks of papers. His hair was messed up and his tie was loosened, like any man tended to do after a rough day of work. The first to button of his dress shirt were undone. The drawing stopped mid-calf.

"It's just a random person sweetie, nobody important." I answered not meeting her gaze.

"You never put that much effort into a drawing but in this one, there's so many details, I mean…" she trailed off, her eyes once again ravishing the piece of art.

"I don't know, maybe I felt more concentrated that day." I said, closing the subject. I was about to speak again when the phone rang.

I stood up and went to answer.

"Montgomery residence," I spoke on a calm tone.

"Hello Aria? This is Bryan."

"Oh hey Bryan, is everything okay?" I asked, confused. I never received a call from my colleagues, even less on a Friday night.

"No actually, this is why I was calling you. We have a very big story that hasn't been covered yet and nobody is available to write it. We have to put it in tomorrow's paper and you're the last on our call list. Could you come in and write it?" He begged through the phone.

"Really Bryan, on my only day of vacation in so many years? I had something previously planned with my daughter." I hissed, annoyed by his request. I never abused from sick days off or vacations, and the only time I dared to take a week off, they had to call me in.

"Like I said, you're the last one on the list and we really can't manage this. We'd pay you double, please, I'm begging you: Can you come in and do this?" He asked, seemingly desperate.

"And exactly who would give me that money?" I laughed, knowing well that he wasn't in charge of that department.

"I'd pay you off my salary I don't care at this point please you're my last chance Aria!" he pleaded.

"I can't accept that Bryan you're ridiculous." I snorted.

"Please.." He trailed off, left with no more argument.

"Fine, whatever. But that article better win me some Pulitzers or I WILL make you pay me double time off of your salary." I threatened jokingly, giving in.

"You're an angel, thank you!" he replied fervently, almost praising me.

I hung up and made my way to Rosalie, explaining her the situation.

LB

Rosalie's POV

I sat in the living room in my pajamas watching a movie on TV. My mom had left about an hour ago to go help in at work and I couldn't keep her from doing so. Instead, I just nodded and told everything would be fine. I told her I'd be able to handle myself so she left me some money for the food and left. I felt a bit betrayed but told myself to get over it, since I understood her motives. To pass the time I was spending sitting down, I began to walk over to the mess mom had pulled out. Maybe I would find something she didn't. As I rummaged through the high papers and boxes, An antique looking box caught my eye. I opened it curiously and peeked inside. It was labeled Aria and Ezra. The second name opened up a new spot in my heart with made my mouth take a form of a smile, with dimples on each side. I shuffled through items with one hand and began to finish my orange with the other. I gently put my hand to the bottom carefully and pulled out something that looked like a concert ticket. The foreign words 'Basia' were printed on and I traced the outline of the paper with my finger lightly. Pictures flooded the box and I picked one out. It stunned me. The photo took my breath away. Beside my mother on a couch was a tall man with brunette hair and eyes, looking into Aria's eyes lovingly. They were forehead to forehead and she looked about 16. He looked so much older…As I pulled out numerous more things from the box, new questions sprung into my head. The curiosity was burning into me. 'Where did they meet?' , 'How did they meet?' , 'why did they break-up?'. I made myself dizzy thinking and trying to answer these questions on my own. Almost as if I were treading water, just trying to keep myself content and not sucked into a whirlpool of even more confusion I was carried away in. I closed the box in frustration and exhaled. With my eyes still frozen stuck together, I tried opening it again. Then again. Another time. The box wouldn't reopen. I threw it on the floor and stood up. A tear streamed down my face and I ran up the stairs frantically. I took the last bite out of my orange and tossed it into the closest trash bin. Shortly after I sat down and collected my thoughts partially, somebody knocked on the door. Weird, I thought. I wasn't expecting anybody. Unless…

And my mind started racing. I peeked through the living room window to see a stranger sedan parked outside. If that was it, that was the moment I finally met my father, I was totally underdressed, I finally thought. The pictures I had seen flashed in my memory and made me incapable to do anything. My stomach twisted in knots and the stupidity of my previous thought struck me. I walked hesitantly to the door just as the unknown person knocked a second time. My palms were moist, so I brushed them off on my pajama bottoms before turning the door knob. I exhaled and flung the door open without hesitation.

A gasp escaped my lips and I took a step back.