Once, my paranoid love

“I am Elena D’Souza.” I introduced myself, my voice wavering ever so slightly.

“Yes, I know,” Mr. Huston replied with a warm smile, his eyes fixed on me. I felt his gaze, and it made my heart race.

As we continued our conversation, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes. Instead, I stared at the ground, feeling a lump form in my throat. My nervousness had taken hold of me, and I gulped, unsure of what to say next. Mr. Huston, on the other hand, seemed relaxed and composed.

I sensed that he had noticed my hesitation and the way I was avoiding his gaze. My palms grew clammy, and I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. It was as if the weight of the situation had pressed down on me, leaving me lost for words.

But then something unexpected happened. I could hear the faint sound of movement, and I looked up in surprise. Mr. Huston had started undoing the buttons on his shirt. Panic surged through me.

“No way,” I thought, clenching my fists involuntarily. “I’m still not ready. What am I supposed to do now? I’m not sure how I’m going to stop him.”

My mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation. I couldn’t understand why he would do something like this during our conversation. Had I given him the wrong impression? Had my nervousness been misinterpreted as a sign of consent?

“Elena, you should change your clothes. It seems quite uncomfortable,” Mr. Huston abruptly said, breaking the tense silence that had settled between us. Without waiting for a response, he headed towards the washroom and disappeared behind the door.

His unexpected suggestion left me feeling even more vulnerable and self-conscious. I instantly lowered my head, avoiding my reflection in the room’s full-length mirror. The room seemed to close in around me, the air thick with unspoken tension.

As Mr. Huston prepared to take a shower, I decided it was best to heed his advice. I needed something more appropriate, something that wouldn’t make me feel exposed in his presence.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

I approached the closet, hoping to find a suitable outfit. To my surprise, when I opened the closet doors, I was greeted by a collection of clothing that was far more revealing than I had anticipated. The dresses and outfits hanging there were designed for a level of sophistication and glamour that I wasn’t prepared for.

I hesitated, my gaze fixed on the array of choices. “How am I going to wear these kinds of dresses?” I thought, my heart pounding with uncertainty. The fabrics were luxurious, the styles elegant, but they were far from what I felt comfortable wearing at that moment.

My eyes instinctively turned toward the bathroom door. I couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Huston had intentionally left me in this predicament and whether he had wanted to see my reaction to the revealing attire. It was hard to shake the feeling that his actions were deliberate and that there was a hidden agenda behind his suggestion.

The maids arranged the room with the assumption that Mr. Huston and I were a married couple, and it was evident in every detail-the champagne chilling on the side table, the rose petals strewn across the bed, the soft music playing in the background.

But despite their meticulous efforts, I was far from prepared to accept Mr. Huston as my husband. Paul still occupied my thoughts, his memory a constant presence in my heart. I needed time-time to heal, time to let go of the past, and time to figure out what I truly wanted.

As I sat on the bed, I couldn’t help but wonder about Mr. Huston’s intentions. He had not attended the wedding, and his sudden appearance had caught me completely off guard. The circumstances surrounding our meeting were far from ordinary, and I couldn’t help but question his motives.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I turned my gaze toward the door. I had so many questions and so many doubts, but I hesitated to voice them. How did he know about my wedding? Why had he chosen this particular moment to reenter my life? And most importantly, what did he expect from our time together tonight?

**

Inside the bathroom, water splattered wildly as Derek stood under the shower’s cascade. Steam enveloped him, and the warmth did little to soothe the storm of thoughts that raged in his mind.

As the water flowed over him, he couldn’t help but reflect on the unsettling encounter with Elena. The way she had tugged at his wet hair, her nervousness, and her apparent inability to recognize him had left him feeling disconcerted.

“She was nervous and couldn’t recall who I was,” Derek mused to himself, his thoughts as tumultuous as the water around him. “Maybe she thinks I’m a bad person after what I did. She didn’t seem to care if I stayed or not.”

Derek’s thoughts then turned to another name that had surfaced in his mind-Ron. He remembered spotting Elena with Ron once, a flicker of jealousy igniting within him. “What relationship does she have with him?” Derek’s face grew stern as he contemplated the implications.

The water pounded against his back as he tried to make sense of the past, of Elena’s actions, and of the people who had entered her life in his absence. It was a puzzle with missing pieces, and he was determined to find them and understand Elena.

“Damn it,” he muttered, frustration and determination etched across his features. He tightened his jaw, his hands clenching into fists.

Derek emerged from the steam-filled bathroom, his mind still swirling with a tempest of emotions and unanswered questions. The cool air of the bedroom greeted him, and he noticed Elena, cocooned beneath the blanket, already lost in slumber.

A wistful smile played on Derek’s lips as he took in the sight of her peaceful form. He couldn’t help but be amazed at how quickly she had drifted off into dreams. “I just take some minutes, and she falls asleep?” he thought with a hint of bemusement.