Chapter 4 The Moment I didn't Expect
Silence stretches between us as the car starts moving. I glance at him nervously and whisper again, softer this time, “I’m sorry.” My voice barely rises above the hum of the engine.
He doesn’t respond. Not a word. His jaw remains tight as he pulls out a handkerchief and calmly wipes his face, cleaning the last traces of chocolate from his skin's slow, controlled movements, as if nothing happened.
The car keeps driving forward, smooth and steady. I turn my gaze to the window for a moment, then back to my hands. Quietly, I lift my ice cream again and take a small bite. The sweetness melts on my tongue, oddly comforting. I sit there peacefully, enjoying it in silence,
The ride back to the villa feels longer than before. The quiet, the day’s emotions, the weight of everything unsaid it all settles on me at once. By the time we reach, exhaustion seeps deep into my bones. The moment I step inside my room, I don’t even bother changing. I drop onto the bed, my body giving up completely, and within seconds, sleep pulls me under.
When my eyes open again, the room is dark.
For a moment, I’m disoriented. Then I sit up suddenly and glance at the clock.
8:00 p.m.
My eyes widen, “Oh God… it’s night already?” I whisper, shocked at how fast the day slipped away.
Panic mixes with urgency. I jump off the bed and quickly freshen up, my movements rushed. I change into a simple outfit jeans and a top nothing fancy, nothing thoughtful. Just enough. Running a hand through my hair, I step out of the room.
The villa is calm, softly lit.
As I reach the living area, I see him sitting on the couch, a file open in his hands. He’s focused, serious, flipping through pages as if this is just another routine task. The sight makes my heart tighten.
I walk toward him slowly.
He looks up the moment he senses my presence. His eyes meet mine for a brief second before he pushes the file forward, placing it on the table between us.
“Sign this,” he says plainly.
My breath catches.
For a split second, fear runs through me. My fingers stiffen, my chest feels tight. This is it. The reality I can no longer avoid. But then another thought settles in what’s the point of being scared now? This decision is mine. I chose this.
I take a steady breath.
Reaching for the file, I don’t flip through the pages again. I already know what it contains. My hands are firm as I pick up the pen and sign my name quickly.
He takes the file back without comment.
He signs as well, his signature bold and effortless, as if sealing deals like this is nothing new to him. Then he turns slightly and hands the file to the manager standing nearby.
“Take it,” he says.
The manager nods respectfully, takes the file, and walks away.
I remain standing there for a moment.
He looks at me once more, his expression serious, almost unreadable. Then he speaks again, his voice calm but firm.
“Remember the rules.”
I nod quietly, moving my head in a small yes. I don’t argue. I don’t ask what he means, I already know. He stands up from his seat and adds, almost casually, “Have dinner.”
Again, I nod.
Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks straight toward his room. His footsteps fade away, leaving the living area silent once more.
I stay where I am for a few seconds, watching the direction he disappears in. Then, without realizing it, a soft smile curves on my lips. I whisper to myself, barely audible, “He’s not as bad as he looks.”
That thought warms something inside me.
Suddenly, my tiredness vanishes. With light steps, almost skipping, I move toward the dining table and sit down eagerly. The food is already laid out. I begin eating, my mood is lighter than it has been all day.
Just then, my phone rings.
My heart skips.
I quickly pick it up, my voice anxious as I say, “Hello? Doctor is everything okay? Is my sister Ira alright?”
There’s a brief pause before the doctor answers, her tone reassuring. “Yes, she’s stable. There’s no need for surgery right now. We’ve started her treatment, and she’s responding well.”
Relief crashes over me like a wave.
“Oh thank you so much,” I say, my voice is fills with gratitude. “Thank you.”
I end the call and place the phone on the table. A wide, genuine smile spreads across my face as I look upward and whisper, “Thank God.”
With a renewed sense of peace in my heart, I pick up my spoon again and continue eating, this time savoring every bite because for the first time in a long while, hope feels real.
I walk toward my room slowly, my mind unusually calm. The villa is quiet, wrapped in soft night silence. Just as I reach my door, a thought suddenly strikes me.
Oh God… I didn’t even thank Mr. Wilson.
I stop in my tracks. That doesn’t feel right. Whatever this marriage is forced, temporary, He still helped me. He didn’t have to. A small sense of guilt settles in my chest.
“I should thank him,” I murmur to myself.
Turning around, I head toward his room. My steps are hesitant now, but my intention is clear. I stand outside his door and gently knock.
No response.
I wait for a few seconds, then knock again this time a little louder.
Still nothing.
I frown slightly. Maybe he didn’t hear me. After a brief pause, I reach for the handle and slowly push the door open, stepping inside cautiously.
“Mr. Wilson?” I call softly.
And then, The bathroom door is open.
He is standing right there.
A towel is wrapped low around his waist, clinging to his hips. Water drips from his hair, sliding down his temples, tracing the sharp lines of his chest and shoulders. His skin glistens under the soft room light, droplets running freely over his muscular frame. He looks every bit as powerful as he always does only now, dangerously real.
My breath catches, For a second, my mind goes completely blank.
I wasn’t prepared for this.
I wasn’t prepared for him.
My eyes widen in shock, my body freezing where it stands. Heat rushes to my face as realization crashes into me all at once.
I gasp sharply and scream without thinking, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”
TO BE COUNTINUE....!!!