The tears fell like a string of beads, and Louis was for the first time feeling flustered. He stared at her in a daze for a long while, approached her and said softly, "Hey, girl."
"She’s not my mom." Mia raised her tear-streaked face, looking at him, and once again stressed through gritted teeth, "She’s an impostor."
As soon as she finished speaking, tears gushed out like a dam bursting, and she turned and sprinted away.
Louis shouted, and chased after her.
He ran quickly, catching her at the doorway, then firmly grabbed her shoulders, turning her around and pulling her tightly into his arms.
"Don’t cry," his large palm ruffled her hair randomly, his voice low and hoarse, full of remorse and deep affection, "Don’t cry, okay? I can’t handle it."
"She’s an impostor." Mia repeated the same sentence over and over.
"Alright, an impostor," Louis held her shoulders tightly, his sharply defined chin resting on her soft hair, "An impostor, we won’t treat her illness, we won’t care about her."
As soon as he finished speaking, Mia suddenly broke down and cried uncontrollably.
It was heart-wrenching.
Louis patted her back with one hand, clumsily comforting her, letting her burning tears flow fully into his embrace. When her sobs quieted down, he helped her stand up straight, holding her shoulders.
"Look at you," he examined her with a mix of amusement and helplessness, "Your eyes are swollen, like a little bunny."
His movements in wiping away her tears were patient and gentle, and only then did Mia feel it was inappropriate. She pursed her lips and stood there, unable to speak.
"You have me, I’ll take you out for a breather," Louis glanced around, grabbing her wrist and heading out directly.
"I don’t want to go." Mia’s face showed stiffness, "I want to go home first."
"In this state, you can’t go anywhere." Louis held her arm with one hand, swiftly placing her on the motorcycle, then without another word, hopped on after her, put his helmet on her head, and started the engine without waiting for her to refuse again.
He rode with great skill, zooming out of the alley within a few minutes and onto the wide street.
The July sun was scorching and glaringly bright.
Mia was at the front, the sunlight and wind coming at her face, the speed too fast, she barely could open her eyes, only hearing the piercing honks and the swift wind noise.
And Louis’s breath, faintly perceptible by her cheek.
She gradually quieted down.
Camilia had moved with her into Eastern Peak Village for ten years; she had met Louis when she was eleven years old.
Back then, he was seventeen.
At seventeen, he started wearing baseball caps, smoking, drinking, getting into fights, squinting his eyes when he looked at people, dangerous yet flirtatious.
She thoroughly disliked him, but Camilia was her weakness.
He protected Camilia, and their mother-daughter life in Eastern Peak Village improved greatly; gradually, their relationship grew more amicable.
Now, everyone who knows him knows her, considering her as his possession.
But the two of them knew better, they never were, especially since the time she bit him; they’ve always kept an unspoken distance and boundaries.
Louis always managed to anger her, she felt grateful to him yet guarded against him, an extremely complex feeling.
Mia half-bowed her body, listening clearly to the motorbike speeding through the city like a cheetah, swift and agile, aggressively weaving through the city streets.