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t h i r t y t w o » m å n g a t a

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— m å n g a t a —
(n) the road like reflection of the moon on the water; sometimes indirectly translated as "moon path," or "moon river"
origin ; swedish

"Adri, babygirl, I know were both still mourning and grieving mom, but things are also slowly returning back to normal. Even though you're still a mess my dear," he gave me a look. A look I'd become all too familiar with - it was broken and desperate look, his way of calling out to me that he just wanted me to talk to him. But I had yet to figure out how to do that.

"But there's something I wanted to ask you," he looked a bit apprehensive.

"Sure, what is it, dad?"

"At every gala, charity event, dinner, and whatever else, you'd always find my arm around your mother's waist," he smiled wistfully.

"There's this one event this weekend at the Bohemian Loft. It's a gala and dinner and it's supposed to be my first appearance to one of these events since the death of my Alessandra," he frowned as he said mama's name.

"And Adri, this is asking a lot from you, my daughter, but I would love it if you went with me. But if you don't want to go, that okay too. I don't you to think I'm forcing you to go, with your father," he snorted, "But I'd really like you come with and-"

"Dad, I'll go," I stifled my laughs. My father was the literal definition of nervous right now and I was having a bit of a hard time trying not to laugh. He narrowed his eyes and scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "And here I was, thinking I was making such a nice gesture."

"And here I was, thinking my father, the drama queen, was gone," I retort sarcastically, "But yes, papa, of course I'll go with you." A face splitting smile took over his face and his eyes glinted with happiness.

And that is how I found myself, two days later after giving that answer, being dragged around the mall by my dad in search of an outfit for the gala that was tomorrow. He was playing stubborn, not allowing me to buy anything whatsoever and shutting down any argument I presented immediately, pulling out his wallet. We'd gotten my dress, - a taupe blush colored long sleeved maxi dress with delicate sequin and tulle skirt - and my jewellery, - long line modern bar threading earrings and a simple Italian rope chain. Lastly, we had to get my shoes and it was a literal war between my father and I.

"How about those," he pointed skeptically at a pair of shoes. I turned my head and my eyes widened - they were stilettos and looked to be about five inches.

"I'm really reconsidering my answer dad," I mutter.

"No, no, no, wait Adri, how about those?" I looked to find him pointing at what looked like three inch pumps. Don't tell me fifteen year olds actually walk in that.

"I think I have a fresh pair of white converse at home," I whine.

"You know, sometimes, I wonder back to what I was like when I was a child and it's just a distant memory, but then I realise, 'oh wait, I have you,' he said blankly and I burst out laughing.

"Adrianna," he whined, waving his hand over to the millions of shoes. I shrugged and looked at my fingers.

"Adrianna, oh my god."

"Adrianna!"

I jolted awake and lurched forward so that I was now sitting up in my bed. I was uncomfortably drenched in sweat, whimpering in pain, and I could not breathe. I was struggling to catch my breathe, fighting myself even, just to breathe. I began whimpering, feeling tears slide down my cheeks as I felt an unbearable pain in my chest. Phoenix sat before me, his hand grasping my shoulder in a tight hold. His eyes were frantic, wide with worry while my eyes widened from our close proximity.