Chapter 47 FORTY-SEVEN

Chapter 47 FORTY-SEVEN
J A D E

My phone rang, and my boss’s name popped up on the screen. I hesitated for a moment, but then picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Jade, are you feeling any better?" Her voice was concerned.

I swallowed hard. I had called in sick the past two days, and this was the first time I was hearing from her.

"I'm still not feeling great, but I'm doing a little better," I lied.

"Well, good. Take as much time as you need to get back on your feet. Im giving you a week off, tell me if you want to take longer to get better. You are my best worker, after all."

I was surprised. My boss was a bitch. If I didn’t hear her voice, I would have thought it was someone else on the phone. So what was the reason for her sudden kindness? Both allowing me to leave early and now, giving me a week off. 

"Does it affect my pay? If yes, then no thank you. I'd rather come back as soon as possible," I told her.

"Don't worry about that. Your pay will be the same as usual."

"Oh wow." I said, unable to hide my surprise about the too good to be true offer. But if she was willing to pay me for a week, then I was not going to question it.

"Thanks boss, that's really generous of you. I'll be back in a few days."

"No rush," she replied.

"Bye, boss."

"Bye, Jade."

I ended the call and stared at my phone for a minute, still puzzled by the whole conversation.

Markov walked into the room, his hair still wet from the shower. He looked at me with concern, "What is it?"

"Uh, nothing. It was my boss."

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, everything is fine. She was just checking up on me."

He gave me a suspicious look, "Are you sure?"

"She also gave me a week off. Such coincidence, considering you’re staying a few days here." I looked at him suspiciously. "Do you perhaps have a hand in this?"

"What? Of course not." He looked offended, as if the thought of him speaking with her was ridiculous.

"Alright, whatever." I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to complain."

He was still watching me, and I could feel the heat of his gaze. It was making me nervous, but also sending a thrill through my body.

"You should rest," he said, his voice gentle.

I shook my head, "I'm fine."

He smiled, the expression so familiar and yet so strange. "At least go take a hot bath, relax. You look tense."

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Maybe."

"Or would you prefer if I join you?" His voice was teasing, but I could hear the underlying desire.

I turned to him, narrowing my eyes. "Are you serious?"

He shrugged, his expression nonchalant. "Why not? We used to bathe together all the time."

"That was before, when we were still together."

"We are still together."

"Markov, stop," I snapped, getting irritated. "You know what I mean."

He sighed, his expression resigned. "Okay, I'll stop."

"Thank you."

I could feel his eyes on me as I walked into the bathroom. The tension was thick, the air heavy with unspoken words and desires.
"Enjoy your bath," he said, his voice low.

"Mm," I hummed, closing the door.

I started the water, waiting for the tub to fill up. My mind was spinning, his words echoing in my head.

We are still together.

Those words. That statement. What did it mean? Did it mean that we were still technically together, or did it mean something else?

My heart clenched, and I pushed the thought away. It was better not to dwell on it.

I stripped off my clothes, sinking into the hot water. The tension slowly drained from my body, and I closed my eyes, letting the heat envelop me.

My thoughts drifted to Markov, to his eyes, his smile, his touch.

I could feel myself getting aroused, my body responding to the memory of his hands on me, his lips on mine.

I squeezed my legs together, trying to relieve the pressure building between them.
But it was no use. I couldn't resist the temptation.

My hand drifted down, my fingers brushing against my sensitive skin.

I imagined his hands, his touch, his mouth on me. My breath quickened, the heat rising in my body.

My fingers slipped inside me, finding the spot that made my body shiver.

I stroked myself, my breathing shallow, my mind filled with images of him.

It wasn't long before the pressure released, my body trembling with pleasure.

But even as the ecstasy faded, the ache in my heart grew stronger.

I missed him. I missed his touch, his kiss, his presence.

But most of all, I missed the man I thought he was.

And despite everything, I—

The bathroom door burst open, and Markov stood there, his expression furious.

"What the hell are you doing? Get out!" I demanded, quickly covering myself.

"What the fuck is this?"

He was holding the potion Amy had gifted me, the one I was addicted to because of the blissful sleep it granted.

"Put that back. I'm busy."

"No, the fuck not! Where did you get this from? Only witches are capable of creating something like this. What is happening to you? Are you dealing with a witch now?"

"Witch?" I looked at him, confused. "Amy gave me this. My friend from work. I told her about my inability to sleep, so she got this for me. She is a good friend."

"What the hell is wrong with her?" He yelled.

"What are you talking about?"

"This is not normal! You can't drink something given to you by a witch, without knowing the side effects. How do you not know this?"

"What side effects? What are you talking about?"

His hands ran through his hair, a desperate, almost crazy look in his eyes. "There is always a cost for things. This potion will make you sleep. But not normal sleep. It's a magical sleep. A very powerful one. But the side effects are worse than you can imagine."

"Side effects? Like what?"

"You don't have the slightest idea, do you? Witches are not good people. They are power hungry. They use innocent people for their own gains."

"Markov, calm down. Amy is a nice person. She wouldn't do anything bad."

"You are too naive! Too trusting. Witches are using you. They don’t give favors without a reward. And Saffra is their queen. She is the most powerful witch alive. There is no telling what her intentions are."

I stood there, staring at him. I couldn't believe what he was saying. Was he serious?

"Markov, you have to be mistaken. Amy is human. She has no business with witches."

"Jade, you have to listen to me. If you continue drinking this, it will be worse than death. You have to stop."

"Stop?" I repeated, feeling the anger rise inside me.

"Yes. Stop. Right now."

"I don't think so."

"Excuse me?" He looked at me, clearly shocked.

"I said, I don't think so. I like sleeping. It's the only time I feel normal. The only time the world is quiet. The only time I'm not afraid. I won't give that up. Not for you. Not for anyone."

"So, what, you will just let them have control over your mind? You will become a slave to their magic? You will continue to have nightmares just to avoid the world?"

"They are not nightmares. They are memories."

"Jade, listen—"

"No, you listen!" I shouted, my anger boiling over. "You can't tell me what to do. You can't tell me how to live my life. You lost that right when we broke up."

Markov looked at me, and in one swift move, he threw the potion on the floor and the bottle shattered, spilling the contents on the floor. He turned on the shower, and the water washed away the remains of the potion.

"What the hell? You can't do that! Why would you do that?"

"It's for your own good," he replied, his tone cold.

"For my own good? You're the one who has been terrorizing me for the past two months! And now you're going to act like you're the victim? Like you have any right to dictate my life?"

"I am trying to protect you," he growled.
"From what?" I scoffed.

"From yourself," he said, his tone serious.

I felt a shiver run down my spine, the anger draining from my body.

"You can't control me, Markov. No one can."

He sighed, his expression pained. "I know. I know."

He reached for me, but I stepped back, putting more distance between us.

"Jade—"

"Get out. Just get out. I can't deal with you right now."

"Please, just let me—"

"No. You've done enough. Now leave. Before I make you."

He stared at me, his expression conflicted before he finally relented.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Just go," I whispered, turning away.

I heard the door close, and I knew he was gone.

I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face. I felt betrayed, angry, and most of all, alone.

Why couldn't he just leave me alone? Why couldn't he understand that I was doing the best I could?

My hands trembled as I wiped the tears from my cheeks. I was a mess. A pathetic, broken mess.

And there was no one there to pick up the pieces.

No one.