Love me

Chapter 1

Point of View : Angelica Smith

-My baby, you still haven't eaten anything since this morning.

Sitting in front of my mirror, I take another long look at my bruised and scarred face. Life can be so unbelievably cruel. I've endured so many trials in such a short amount of time, and sometimes, I wonder how I've managed to keep breathing.

Years ago, I was the most beautiful woman in Canada-top model, international celebrity, adored and envied. People admired me, men desired me, women wanted to be me. I took such pride in my appearance, always perfecting every detail. Honestly, I worshipped myself. My beauty was my power. It was everything to me.

But everything changed in a heartbeat.

I lost my parents-my only family, the people I loved most in this entire world-five years ago. That fire... God, I remember it so clearly. We were having dinner together, laughing like we always did. It was just a normal evening. Nothing unusual, nothing alarming.

Then everything turned to ashes.

I woke up in the hospital, barely conscious. The pain was unbearable. My face... it was burned, ruined. When I looked in the mirror for the first time, I let out a scream so loud the nurses had to sedate me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. That wasn't me. That couldn't be me.

After countless surgeries, skin grafts, and painful procedures, some parts of my face recovered. But the scars never fully disappeared. One side of my face still carries the marks of that night-raw, ugly reminders of everything I lost. My beauty. My career. My family. My identity.

Since then, I've kept my face hidden from the world. No one sees me without my scarf or veil. Not even myself, sometimes.

And love ? That died with the fire.

No man wants a woman who looks like a monster. I've been alone for five years now. The silence is suffocating. The longing is unbearable. I miss being touched, being kissed, being seen-not for the scars, but for the soul beneath them.

I crave love so badly it hurts. I would give up everything I own just for one man to say he loves me... for real. No pity. No lies.

In just a few months, I'll turn 26. I'm getting older, and it terrifies me.

-Sweetheart...

-Yeah, Mom ? What did you say ?

Her voice brings me back to reality.

She comes closer, her warm hands gently resting on my shoulders. Her eyes shine with that same motherly love that has never changed-not even after I became... this.

-You're beautiful, my love. I sing that to you every single day, don't I ?

I give her a sad smile, eyes filling with tears.

-You say that just to make me feel better. Why can't you tell me the truth ? That I'm hideous. That I don't look like anything anymore. That I'm a freak. Why do you lie to me just to spare my feelings ?

My voice breaks as tears spill down my cheeks.

She shakes her head firmly and cups my face in her hands.

-Stop hurting yourself. You are still beautiful. You just don't see it. Please, for the love of God, value yourself. You've locked yourself in this darkness for years now, hiding from life, hiding from hope. Enough ! Go out. See what's out there. Discover the good that still exists. Live, Angelica. You still have a future, damn it !

She's right. She always is. But her words feel like a punch to the chest. I wish I could believe her.

Later that night, I lie in bed and pick up my phone. I haven't touched it in years. I've been so disconnected from the world that I barely know how things work anymore. Is Facebook still a thing ? Are people still posting selfies and updates like nothing ever goes wrong ?

I open my photo gallery and start scrolling through old pictures. There I am-flawless, glowing, alive. And there they are-my parents, smiling beside me, unaware of what fate had in store.

I sob uncontrollably.

Then, suddenly, I get this urge... a strange, unexplained impulse. I log into my Facebook account.

I used to have thousands of followers, fans from all over the world. They adored me. Sent me gifts. Praised me like I was a goddess.

But now ?

Almost no one is left. They disappeared as soon as news of my condition spread. My beauty gone, their love vanished.

Disgusted, I'm about to log off when something catches my eye-a suggestion for a friend request. A man. Handsome. Mysterious. His name : Miguel Hernandez.

My heart skips a beat. What the hell ?

I stare at his picture longer than I should. He's breathtaking. I can't remember the last time I found a man attractive. It's been so long. But there's something about him... something intense in his eyes, something that calls to me.

Without thinking, I send him a friend request.

If he accepts, maybe-just maybe-I'll try to talk to him. Build a connection. A friendship. I won't hope for anything more. I can't. But still... I hope.

Point of View : Miguel Hernandez

For the fifth time in ten minutes, my phone buzzes again. I groan and pull away from the soft lips of my fiancée, clearly irritated.

I'm Miguel Hernandez-Mexican by birth, Canadian by residence. My whole family's still back in Mexico, but my career brought me here.

I'm 35 years old. I'm an athlete. A household name. Rich, sexy, and famous-yeah, I know what people say about me.

I'm also a telenovela actor. My face is plastered on TV screens around the world. Women throw themselves at me. Fame is a double-edged sword.

But only one woman matters to me-Jessica Lopez, also Mexican, and the love of my life.

Jessica is perfect. Curves in all the right places, a face that could stop traffic, and brains to match. She's the total package. And she's mine.

-Baby, that phone of yours is killing the vibe. Can't you shut it off ?

Her voice is laced with frustration, but her lips are still on my skin. I kiss her neck, hungry for more. Yeah, I'm a bad boy most of the time, but with her, I'm serious. She's not a fling. She's my future.

We're at my place tonight. I just got back from a long tour, and I needed some serious downtime. Nothing better than being home... with her.

-Don't worry, my love. I'll turn it off.

She smiles and nods approvingly.

I pick up my phone, ready to shut it off, when a notification pops up. Friend request. From someone named Angelica.

Normally, I ignore these. Especially from women. They're usually obsessed fans, trying to flirt, message, cling. I hate that.

But something stops me this time. Her name. Her profile picture-hidden, mysterious. There's something different about her.

Without even thinking, I hit "Accept."

-Is it off yet ?

Jessica asks.

I nod and finally turn off the phone. But even as I go back to kissing her, my thoughts drift to the woman behind that friend request.

Angelica.

There's something about her I can't shake.

We'll see where this goes...

Chapter 2

(Point of View : Angelica Smith)

When my phone beeps, I put down my paintbrush and unlock it.

When I realize the handsome guy has replied, my hands start trembling before I even open the message.

A video call ? That's completely out of character for me. There's no way I can do a video call with him-especially not with my face looking like this.

I'm about to tell him no when he suddenly starts the video call. I reject it repeatedly.

Heart pounding, I place the phone on the bed and start pacing around. Ever since I sent him the friend request and he accepted, I've been hoping so badly for a message from him-and now that he's finally written back, I can't even answer.

A few minutes go by. He ends the call and sends me a message.

-« Are you busy ? Or would an audio call work better ? » he asks.

Then, almost instantly, he adds :

-« Hey. »

The sound of his voice makes me close my eyes. It's so soft, like a melody. I try to imagine his face in my mind.

-« Hi, how are you ? » I ask.

-« Let's use 'tu', okay ? » he replies.

-« Yeah, that's fine, » I respond, trying to sound relaxed even though my heart is still racing.

-« So, I saw your friend request. I don't usually accept those, but I figured one more friend wouldn't hurt, » he says with a playful tone.

I smile softly through the phone. Wow, he's funny too.

-« Exactly. Well, I'm Angelica Smith. I'm originally from Canada, and I live in Toronto. And you ? »

-« Uh, I'm Miguel Hernandez, » he says.

-« I'm Mexican, but I live here in Toronto too. I'd really like to get to know you. By the way, you have a beautiful voice, » he compliments.

-« Oh, thanks ! I feel like we're going to be great friends, » I say with a little laugh.

And just like that, we start talking. We talk for a long time, way longer than I expected. He's easy to talk to, like we've known each other forever.

Just having that conversation with Miguel lifts my spirits completely. I go back to my painting with a smile on my face. That's my favorite pastime-I love painting. It's my passion, second only to my modeling job.

Later in the day, I walk into the kitchen.

-« Hi, Mom, » I say.

-« Oh my God, thank you, God, you're so good ! My baby, I'm so happy to see you out of your shell ! » she exclaims.

I smile and shake my head. This little woman is just hilarious.

-« It's nothing, Mom. I just felt like helping you today, » I reply.

She looks at me, clearly not convinced.

-« I don't believe you. And I have a feeling you're hiding something. But come help me in the kitchen-we'll talk about it after. »

(Point of View : Miguel Hernandez)

-« Hey man, you're not even listening anymore. What's got you glued to your phone ? » Luc says.

-« He's probably texting Jessica. You know how crazy he is about her, » Roland adds.

I hear their words but barely register them. If only they knew I'm not texting my girlfriend-I'm actually chatting with someone new. This woman is something else.

I can't stop texting her. She's way too funny.

-« Miguel ! » Luc calls out, trying to grab my phone.

I pull away before he can reach it. No way I'm letting him see my conversation with Angelica.

-« Why are you hiding your phone ? What are you hiding from us, man ? » Roland asks.

-« Nothing, guys. So, what were you saying again ? » I ask, trying to steer the conversation away.

They glance at each other before answering. I know they're suspicious, but I have zero intention of explaining.

-« Come on, guys, order whatever you want-it's on me, » I say.

They burst out laughing. And just like that, the party vibes return.

I enjoy parties, but only when the mood is right. Tonight feels okay-just enough to let loose for a bit.

Hours later...

-« So, what did my friend eat and do today ? » I ask Angelica in a teasing tone.

-« Hmm, I had some delicious rice. And as for what I did-I painted all day, » she replies.

I frown a little. She paints ? I've always wanted to learn, but time just doesn't allow it with everything I have going on.

-« Really ? So you like painting ? » I ask.

-« Like is an understatement. I love painting. It's my favorite thing to do, » she says with passion in her voice.

Her words make me smile. I don't know why, but I really enjoy hearing her talk. My curiosity about her is growing stronger.

I want to see her. I mean it.

-« Wow. Then one of these days, you'll teach me how to paint, right ? » I say.

-« No problem. So, how was your day ? » she asks in return.

Her voice is so calm and soothing.

-« By the way, when are we finally going to meet in person, Angelica ? I keep asking you, » I say playfully.

-« Very soon, my dear friend, » she answers with a laugh.

-« Okay, if you say so, » I reply.

There's a short pause before she asks :

-« So... do you have a girlfriend ? »

She says it quietly, almost hesitantly.

-« Yeah, I've been with someone for three years. And you ? »

-« Uh... uh... I have to go. I just remembered I have something to do. Bye, » she says quickly, ending the call before I can respond.

Shit. Why did she do that ?

It's like she wasn't expecting that answer. Maybe she thought I was single ?

I sit there, overthinking everything, when my girlfriend texts me, asking if I'm home.

I let out a long sigh and reply that I'm not.

Honestly, I didn't like what Angelica just did-it really put me in a bad mood.

Without a second thought, I tell my girlfriend I don't feel like seeing her tonight. I'm not in the mood.

After sending the message, I place the phone on the bed and head for the shower.

Tomorrow's going to be a long day. Between my career, my business, and my subsidiaries, I've got more than enough to deal with.

But one thing's for sure-Angelica Smith is now stuck in my head.

And I don't know how I feel about that yet.

Chapter 3

(POINT OF VIEW : MIGUEL HERNANDEZ & ANGELICA SMITH)

Weeks later...

I sit alone in the living room, my elbows resting on my knees, staring blankly at my phone. I try Angelica's number again-for the fiftieth time today, maybe more. Still no answer. The silence on the other end of the line is deafening.

What is this woman doing to me, for God's sake ?

I'm currently in Mexico, visiting my parents. I needed to get away from everything, from the noise, the expectations, and especially from Jessica. But most of all, I needed to clear my mind-and maybe, just maybe, hear Angelica's voice again.

-Angelica, for God's sake, please turn on your phone, I say aloud, not realizing how loud I've become.

-Who's this Angelica again ? my mother's voice rings from behind me.

My heart thuds loudly in my chest as I whip my head toward her.

-I hope you're not cheating on Jessica, my boy, she adds, walking closer with that look only mothers can give.

Her tone is sharp, but her eyes are filled with concern. She stands there, arms crossed over her chest, waiting for my answer.

-Aren't you Miguel Hernandez ? she asks, her brow arched as she sits across from me.

I force a smile and raise my eyes to meet hers.

Chanceline Rodriguez, wife of Rodrigue Hernandez, is the best mother in the world. She raised me and my two sisters with nothing but love and high expectations. My sisters are both studying in Europe, making us all proud. And me ? Well, I'm still trying to figure things out, apparently.

-Oh, my sweet mama, how are you doing ? I say, trying to sweet-talk her.

-No, don't even try it. I asked you a question. Answer me, she says, not falling for it.

-Mom, I'm not cheating on your beloved Jessica, okay ? So, relax.

-You better not be, because she's been complaining a lot lately... about you, she adds, narrowing her eyes.

-Don't finish that sentence, please ! I cut her off sharply, my voice louder than I intended.

Why does Jessica always have to run to my mom ? Why can't she come to me with our problems like an adult ? Why does she act like she's twelve when she's nearly thirty ?

-Why are you shouting like that ? my mother asks, slightly taken aback.

I run my hands through my hair and let out a breath.

-Because Jessica acts like a child, Mom ! She's 29 years old, damn it ! Every time something goes wrong, she runs straight to you. I'm tired of this cycle. We have issues, yes-but they're between us. Not you.

-Lower your voice. She's not attacking you. She just told me that lately, you haven't been spending any time with her and that you're constantly distracted, she says calmly.

-I'm going back, Mom. I came for a film shoot and wanted to stop by to see you guys. Now, I've said hi. It's time for me to leave. Take care of yourself, I say, getting to my feet.

-But sweetheart... I-

I don't let her finish. I kiss her cheek quickly and walk out of the room. I'll see Dad next time. Right now, I need to get out. I need fresh air. I need Angelica.

More than anything, I need to hear her voice.

Angelica Smith

-I still can't believe it ! All your paintings have been sold, and your gallery keeps gaining popularity every single day ! my mother exclaims, beaming with pride.

I glance at her with a small smile. She has no idea the gallery is mine. No one does. Not the public. Not even Miguel. I set it up quietly and hired a manager to run it. She updates me every week, and things are going better than I could have hoped.

But even with that success, I feel... empty.

It's been months since I last spoke to Miguel. I had to cut off communication-for both our sakes. He already has a girlfriend, and I didn't want to come between them. It hurt too much to keep pretending nothing was happening in my heart.

-What's wrong, Angelica ? A few months ago, you were glowing with joy. Now you're back to being silent and withdrawn again, my mother says, studying me closely.

-I... I stopped talking to the person who used to make me smile, I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

-You... what ? Why ? Did he say something to you ? Did he hurt you ? she asks, sitting beside me with concern all over her face.

-I just... couldn't anymore. He already has someone. It didn't feel right to keep in touch, I say softly.

She frowns and suddenly picks up my phone, which has been off for weeks.

-How long has it been since you turned this thing on ? she asks, already pressing the power button despite my protest.

-Mom, please. Not my phone. It's better if I stay away from reality right now, I try to argue.

She ignores me and starts scrolling through my messages and emails.

-Well, well... looks like there's a certain Miguel who's been blowing up your Facebook. Tons of messages, she says, giving me a sly smile. Is he your boyfriend ?

I snatch the phone from her, needing to see it with my own eyes. My heart pounds as I read through message after message. He wrote to me almost every day. He didn't stop thinking about me.

My eyes burn. I throw my phone onto the bed and let out a shaky breath.

-What's going on, honey ? my mother asks gently.

-I love him. But he only sees me as a friend. He already has a girlfriend, and if I keep talking to him, I'll just keep hurting myself for nothing, I say as tears stream down my face.

-Oh, sweetheart. So now you've fallen in love, and he's already taken... Don't worry, honey. I'm sure the right man will come along. Someone who's meant for you, someone who will see you for who you are and love you for it, she says, pulling me into a comforting hug.

I'm about to respond when my phone starts ringing again. The sound slices through the room like a knife.

I pull away gently and glance down. My heart skips a beat when I see the name.

Miguel.

My heart pounds wildly in my chest. I can't answer. No. I shouldn't.

But the phone keeps ringing, over and over again.

-Is it him ? my mother asks softly.

I nod, clutching the phone tightly.

-Answer it, baby. He's clearly desperate to talk to you. At least listen to what he has to say, she urges.

With trembling fingers, I press the green button and slowly raise the phone to my ear.

-Hello ? I whisper.

-Angelica, I want to see you. I need to see you. And a no... is not acceptable, Miguel says, his voice low, intense, and unwavering.

My breath catches in my throat. My heart is a thunderstorm inside my chest. This isn't over.

Not even close.