Chapter Sixty-Four

Chapter Sixty-Four
It's funny how at first, I thought that all I had for Nelson was pure admiration but slowly it was drifting off that border and tending towards something more romantic.

Lately, I found myself glancing at the clock more often than I cared to admit, anticipating Nelson’s arrival with a flutter in my chest that felt suspiciously like hope.

Each time I saw his name pop up on my screen, a broad and uncontrollable smile tugged at my lips and when he spoke, I could not stop grinning from ear to ear. 

There was always a quiet thrill when his voice cut through the monotony of my day, crisp and commanding, yet laced with warmth. 

Right now, I live in a lie. Whenever I did any of those acts or gestures, I told myself it was just admiration and respect. But deep down, I knew better.

He had such main character energy while still maintaining humility and confidence while I on the other hand, who had built walls so high even sunlight struggled to reach me, found myself lowering the drawbridge, just a little, every time he spoke.

Do I need to talk about last night? Well, if I were being brief, I’d say that it was the tipping point.

He’d taken me to dinner again at a place I'd never even noticed before. The restaurant was tucked away on a quiet street, with soft lighting and velvet booths; the kind of place that whispered elegance without trying too hard. 

Nelson had orchestrated the evening like a symphony conductor, opening every door, pulling out chairs, brushing away crumbs with the ease of someone who paid attention to the smallest things.

When I'd complained about the draft, he’d summoned a waiter and had it fixed within minutes. When my wine glass had chipped, he’d replaced it before I could blink. And when I'd spilled a drop of sauce on my dress, he’d handed me a napkin with such gentle concern that my breath caught.

It wasn’t just the gestures, it was the way he looked at me, like I was something rare. Not fragile, but precious. Like he saw the fire in me and didn’t flinch.

I had spent the last three years convincing myself that love was a liability. 

After Drew, I'd sworn off vulnerability. I'd entered my villain era with unapologetic flair-blocking numbers, ghosting suitors, and ignoring the flood of Instagram DMs that piled up like unread confessions. 

Men had become background noise and I was the main character now, and romance was a subplot I'd deleted.

But Nelson was slowly rewriting the script.

I lay in bed the next morning, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment of the night before. The way he’d leaned in when I spoke, genuinely listening. The way his laughter had wrapped around me like a warm scarf. The way his hand had brushed mine, not by accident, I was sure, and lingered just long enough to make my heart stutter.

Butterflies. That’s what it felt like. Not the chaotic swarm I'd known with Drew, all passion and poison. These were gentler and hopeful and they terrified me.

I got up and padded to the kitchen, my silk robe trailing behind me like a whisper. The morning sun filtered through the windows, casting golden patterns on the floor. I poured myself coffee, but my mind was elsewhere, on Nelson’s smile, on the way he’d said my name like it was a secret only he knew.

I'd never let myself imagine a future with someone again. Not after the way Drew had dismantled my trust, piece by piece, until I was left with nothing but shards.

But Nelson wasn’t trying to fix me. He wasn’t asking for anything. He was just… there. Steady, present, and somehow, that was more dangerous than any grand gesture.

I opened my phone and scrolled through my DMs. Dozens of messages from men I'd never replied to, some charming, some crude, all irrelevant. But Nelson’s name wasn’t there. He didn’t chase. He didn’t flatter me. He simply showed up.

And that, I realized, was what made my heart ache in the best way.

I wandered to the balcony, my cup of coffee in my hand, and I let the breeze kiss my skin. 

My thoughts were a kaleidoscope of memories of last night; fragments of conversations, the way his eyes had softened when I'd talked about my childhood and the pain I had to go through, growing up without my biological parents. My aunt did everything she could but still I missed them every single day till this moment.

All through the time I talked, he didn't interrupt. He didn't try to fix my pain. He just listened.

I hadn’t expected this. Not from him or anyone else.

My villain era had been a fortress. I'd worn it like armor, sharp and gleaming. But Nelson was slipping through the cracks, not with force, but with kindness, and I 

who had sworn never to feel again, was beginning to wonder if I had been wrong.

“You’re glowing,” my aunt teased, sipping her iced latte. “Who is he?”

I rolled my eyes, but the blush on my cheeks quickly betrayed me. “He? There's no one,” I said, staring at my phone’s screen like there was something in it. 

She leaned in, grinning. “I know you too well, you bloody little liar. Spill.”

Yes, it was my aunt, the closest person to my heart even though Nelson was now coming really close but I couldn’t or maybe I just feared doing so.

I felt it was not yet the right time. It felt too fragile and too new. And I felt like saying it out loud would break the spell.

That evening, I found myself dressing with more care than usual. Unlike the May whom I knew, I was beginning to pay more attention to the little details. My hairstyles, my ashy elbows, my not-so-rumpled dress which I didn't care about formerly. 

I now wore soft and girly dresses, a subtle and sweet perfume, a touch of glittering gloss, noticeable gold or silver jewelry with my hair always being the last thing I tended to because I wanted it to be perfect; Bad hair days were slowly beginning to be non-existent. 

Every time I dolled up, I told myself it was just a habit, but when Nelson arrived to pick me up for a casual dinner, the way his eyes lingered on me made my pulse race, while it did, I knew it was for the right reasons, and it was that I looked really stunning.

“You look…” he began, then smiled. “Radiant.”

I laughed, trying to play it cool. “It’s just lip gloss, I don't even have my makeup done, come on.”

“No,” he said, holding the door open. “It’s you, not the gloss, or the makeup, there's just something about you that mesmerizes me.”

We drove in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need filling. At the café, he ordered my favorite without asking. I didn’t even remember telling him; and when we sat by the window, watching the world go by, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time - peace.

He asked about my day, my dreams, my fears, and when I hesitated, unsure whether to share, he waited, patiently, like he had all the time in the world for me.

Slowly, I told him about Drew, although not everything, but enough, and he didn’t flinch. 

He didn’t offer clichés or empty sympathy. He simply reached across the table and took my hand in his, and that single gesture just spelled out the words, ‘I'm here now.’

Later that night, as I lay in bed, I replayed the moment over and over. His touch, his voice, and the sincerity in his eyes. I felt the butterflies again, stronger now. Not chaotic, but certain.

I was falling, slowly, unexpectedly, and beautifully.

And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to stop.