XXV

"How are you feeling?" I didn't know how Gio managed to do this. Acting concerned about me, even though just earlier it felt like he was pushing my kidnapper to shoot me.

I told myself that no matter how heavy my feelings were, I wouldn't cry. He doesn't deserve my tears. He's not worth crying over. He didn't get a response from me. I knew he might get angry because people like Gio hate it when you don't give them attention when they ask you something. In my current state, I didn't care if he got angry or hurt me.

"You look exhausted; rest now."

I will rest, but in a place where he isn't. I couldn't bear being in the same place as Gio, let alone the same bed.

He let out a deep sigh before I heard his footsteps leaving the room. When I heard the door close, I closed my eyes.

No physical pain can compare to the pain in my heart. It feels like it's been shattered and torn apart, especially when I remember everything Gio said earlier. Did he mean it? And even if he didn't, why did he have to say it?

I stood up from my seat and walked out of the room. The injury on my ankle wasn't too severe, so I could walk properly now. There was some swelling, but the pain was bearable.

I stepped out of the room. The second-floor hallway was quiet as I walked out. The only source of light in the hallway was the lamps affixed to the walls. The ambiance created by these lamps made it feel like you were in a castle.

I didn't know where I was going. I just wanted to be alone and think. Something was pushing me to end this madness and leave Gio, even if it meant facing my father's anger. But there was also a part of me that couldn't seem to completely remove Gio from my system.

I peeked into other rooms in the house, but most of the unused ones were locked. I saw the study room and hoped it might be open. I wasn't wrong; it was the only room aside from Gio's that wasn't locked.

I entered. I didn't intend to turn on the light. I allowed the room to remain dark. It wasn't entirely dark, thanks to the light from outside and the moon.

I went over to the desk and the swivel chair. I pulled the swivel chair and sat down. I was afraid of the dark, but sometimes I found comfort in it. Maybe because I had spent most of my life here.

I rested my arms on the table and buried my head there. I thought I was going to cry, so I prepared myself, but the tears didn't come.

I sat quietly for a few moments before I felt the fatigue that had been building up since earlier. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift off.

I had a dream, but I couldn't remember it. I didn't even know if it was a good dream or just another nightmare.

"Millie!"

Someone was calling me. The voice was familiar yet unclear.

"Millie!"

I heard more consecutive calls.

A loud thud rang out, followed by another call.

"Millie."

I opened my eyes and lifted my head. My neck hurt from the uncomfortable sleeping position.

Had I been asleep for hours? I hadn't realized.

I looked at the door; it was open. My eyes widened when I saw who was standing there.

Gio...

He appeared exhausted and was staring at me intensely in the dimly lit room. I don't know the reason for his weariness.

"Sir, we already checked the CCTV camera. Ma'am Millie is-"

"I found her."

I saw Dario and Mariana, who had just arrived behind Gio. They peeked into the study room and saw me. It was as if they had breathed a sigh of relief. Gio walked in without a word, closed the door to the study room, producing a loud, aggressive thud.

I was unaware of what was happening because I had fallen asleep. I averted my gaze from Gio when I noticed we had been locked in a silent stare for a while. His stare was so intense that I forgot to breathe.

"We've been looking for you. Why did you leave our room without telling me-"

"Do you need to know every little thing about me, even when I leave my room?" Those words came out of my mouth spontaneously. I was surprised, but I didn't retract them. I wasn't vocal about my feelings.

I'm fearful and timid, yes. Because I have no defense against the people around me. I am inside the cage of my trauma, of my past. I don't even know how to escape. If there was an easy way out, I might have taken it. So, for now, I'll let myself fight and express my feelings. If Gio chooses to do something unpleasant to me because of my response, so be it.

Just from his expression, I could tell he didn't like what I said. My throat was constricting, making it difficult to swallow, but I forced myself to remain strong.

"How difficult is it to say that you're coming here? And why are you here anyway? I told you to rest."

"I can manage myself." I stood up. I still couldn't look directly at him. I was just gathering my courage, but I knew that when our eyes met, I would return to how I used to be. I would pass by where Gio was if I left this room. I hesitated for a moment but ultimately continued with my plan.

Gio quickly reached out to me. I halted my steps, and though I hadn't intended to furrow my brow, I did. Our eyes met once more.

"Why are you ignoring me?" It was a question I hadn't expected to hear from him.

"I am not." I immediately withdrew my hand from Gio and took a step back to prevent him from touching me again. His touch had an inexplicable effect on my skin.

"Not, huh? First, you didn't ride the car with me. Second, you will always find a way to avoid talking to me. And now this? Are you choosing to sleep here instead of the bedroom?" He raised his voice slightly, concluding his statement with that.

I averted my gaze. "I'm just not feeling it. I just don't want... I don't want to be with you."

"Why is that, Millie?"

I shook my head and didn't answer. I hastily left the study room and headed to the bedroom. Gio followed me quickly. How could I tell him that his words had hurt me? Maybe he'd just throw them back at me. I felt like my feelings were shallow. He would invalidate my emotions, and like Papa, he would find a way to make it seem like I was in the wrong.

But maybe... my feelings were shallow. Gio doesn't love me; it's normal for him not to care if I leave. What am I expecting from him? Maybe I was too blinded by his occasional affection for me, thinking that... maybe... there was hope for us.