Rebound?
Ashley
I stayed rooted in place, listening until the very end. Maybe I’m a bit of a masochist. Who knows? I just kept telling myself that at least it was still my name that made Marco moan like that. After all, we were the ones who started everything.
But truth be told, I’m exhausted, emotionally, mentally. Every time I get hurt, a part of me flirts with the idea of letting go. Why don’t I just let him and allow him to be happy with someone else? Maybe I deserve that peace, too.
Sometimes I wonder… maybe the reason I keep getting hurt is because I don’t really love myself. Maybe that’s why I keep holding onto him, allowing the pain to bleed through every fiber of my being. But what can I do if my heart still longs for Marco, even after everything?
So what now? Will I keep begging for fleeting happiness, stealing moments that were never mine to begin with?
Days passed. I didn’t leave my condo. I buried myself in writing instead. I managed to finish quite a few chapters, but all of them were heartbreakingly tragic. It’s like I poured all my sorrow into my heroine just so neither of us had to suffer alone. So that we're on the same page.
I was sitting on the floor in my living room, laptop perched on my low center table when the doorbell rang.
Since I hadn’t stepped out in days, I had ordered food. I stood and walked to the door, checking the peephole out of habit.
It was Sandro.
I blinked. What’s he doing here? I opened the door.
“I thought you said you’d be away for two weeks?” I asked, eyebrows raised. He looked dashing in his suit like he had just come from an important meeting.
“Oh!” he said, raising the fast-food bag in his hand. “Surprise.”
“I already ordered delivery, though. I was just waiting for it to arrive,” I said as I stepped aside to let him in.
He removed his shoes and slipped into the house slippers I always kept for him. We walked to the living room together.
“That was your order, actually. I stopped the delivery guy from ringing the bell,” he said with a playful grin.
“Oh, so you paid for it?” I replied, already turning toward my bedroom. “Wait, I’ll go get my wallet—”
“Don’t bother. I didn’t bring you any souvenirs anyway,” he interrupted, chuckling and scratching his head. “Come on, just eat.”
“Well… okay. Thanks,” I said, sitting back down on the floor. I opened the bag and set it on the table beside my laptop.
As I started to eat, I glanced at Sandro and noticed how tired he looked. His eyes were fluttering shut, head leaning back against the sofa.
“Hey… why don’t you get some sleep?” I suggested gently.
He startled slightly, blinking awake. “Sorry. It was a nonstop trip back here.”
“Then go ahead. Get some rest.”
“Thanks, Ash,” he said softly before settling into the cushions, lying down in a more comfortable position.
I smiled faintly and continued eating, finishing the meal with surprising satisfaction. Maybe food really does taste better when it’s free, I mused.
After clearing the table and throwing out the trash, I returned to the living room, ready to write again.
I set my laptop back on the center table but before I could open it, my eyes drifted to the couch.
There he was, fast asleep.
I found myself staring.
Sandro really was handsome. His nose, sharp and defined like a parrot’s beak, was his best feature. His eyes had that slight almond shape that hinted at his Chinese blood, but not too much, just enough to make his gaze intriguing. His lips were shaped like a bow, the lower one fuller, tempting. Kissable.
I shook my head at the thought. Seriously? Was I really that touch-starved? Was that why I was thinking about these things?
No. No, I knew deep down, I still loved Marco. Maybe my mind was just trying to latch onto Sandro as an escape. Maybe I just wanted to use him to finally forget my brother-in-law.
But that wouldn’t be right.
He didn’t deserve to be anyone’s rebound. He had been nothing but kind to me. He didn’t deserve to be hurt.
I shook my head again and returned my attention to my laptop, determined to continue writing. I couldn’t allow myself to look elsewhere just for the sake of temporary comfort.
Time slipped past unnoticed as I became completely absorbed in what I was writing. I was so caught up that I nearly jumped when a warm hand landed on my shoulder, Sandro’s, of course. I glanced at him and saw that he was still asleep, though now he had shifted to lie on his side.
His hand moved again, fingers brushing against my skin, prompting me to gently take it to place it back where it belonged. But instead, he grasped mine and pulled it to his chest. I sighed softly, standing from the floor and settling down on the couch to better maneuver away from his hold.
Still, no matter how carefully I tried to slip away, I couldn’t break free from his grip. He was holding on tightly, even in his sleep. So, I gave up. I let him be, not wanting to risk waking him. I adjusted my posture and leaned back slightly against him to avoid cramping my body. After all, he was the one who pulled me close in the first place. Surely, he wouldn’t mind.
Then, something unexpected happened.
He intertwined our fingers.
I turned to look at his face once again. Why was I feeling this way?
For days, I had been preoccupied, thinking about Ashlyn, about Marco, and about this complicated, twisted situation we had entangled ourselves in. The thought of ending things with my brother-in-law often visited me like a shadow in the night, impossible to ignore.
I exhaled deeply and looked down at the floor, only to be startled when Sandro suddenly pulled me closer to him.
I nearly stumbled over him, my face just inches away from his. Had I not stopped myself, I might’ve kissed him, completely by accident. Embarrassed, I tried to move away, but then his eyes opened, meeting mine.
“Uh… my hand…” I said awkwardly, nodding toward our still-interlocked fingers.
“You were writing when I arrived. I bet you haven’t stood up since, except maybe to eat,” he said, his voice filled with concern, his sincerity evident in his gaze.
“There’s nothing else I need to do anyway,” I replied.
“Come here,” he said softly and gently tugged me down. I ended up lying beside him, my head resting on his arm after he finally let go of my hand. I tried to rise, but he stopped me again.
“Rest, Ash. There’s nothing wrong with resting.”
“I’m not tired,” I murmured, but I didn’t move. It actually felt nice and comforting to know that someone cared about me.
Since that dinner he shared with me here at my unit, I haven’t seen him again. But he called and texted every single day just to check on me.
Then I felt it. His arm snaked around my waist, holding me gently. Heat rushed to my cheeks.
“You smell so good, Ash…” he whispered, his voice low and almost seductive, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Sandro…”
“I’m not going to do anything,” he said softly. “I just want you to rest.”
And just like that, I stopped talking. I stayed still in his arms, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing until it slowed. He was asleep again.
Why shouldn’t I rest, too?
With that thought, I closed my eyes and let myself drift away. I didn’t know if it was the exhaustion or the silence... or maybe it was the warmth and safety radiating from Sandro’s body. Whatever it was, it lulled me into a peaceful sleep.
I woke up feeling light and refreshed. But when I opened my eyes, I realized Sandro was no longer beside me. I sat up and turned toward the kitchen, where the clatter of pans caught my attention.
There he was, cooking.
“Hey, what are you doing?” I asked, making him glance back at me.
“Perfect timing,” he said with a smile. “Dinner’s ready.”
“Seriously? Did I sleep that long?”
“You were completely knocked out. But that’s okay. You needed it. Now you’ve got the energy to stay up late again,” he teased. “Come sit. Let’s eat.”
I followed his invitation and joined him at the table. He had made adobo and it was incredibly good.
“Wow, you’re husband material,” I blurted out with a playful grin.
“Oh yeah?” he asked casually like we were just bantering like always.
“Yeah, when do you want to get married?”
“You tell me, when do you want to?” he shot back without missing a beat.
I froze, the grin fading from my lips. His, too.
“Sandro—”
“I was just kidding. You’re too serious sometimes,” he chuckled.
“Sandro, I really can’t—” I began, meaning to tell him I couldn’t fall for him, but he cut me off.
“Is it because of Marco?”
I couldn’t respond. How did he know?
“I’m a guy, Ash. I know the signs. I know if a man wants a woman, if something's going on between them, or not.”
If he knew that just from their first meeting… What about Ashlyn? My heart clenched.
“I got close to you that night when they visited, your sister and Marco.” I lowered my gaze, no longer able to meet his. “I know you’re hurting, but I want to remind you that Marco is married. And not just to anyone... but to your twin.”
“I know,” I whispered. “And I tried. I tried to leave him. I tried to walk away. But I just… couldn’t.”
Tears spilled down my cheeks as I confessed the truth I had been trying to ignore.
“I’m here, Ash. Why won’t you even try to look at someone else?” His voice was calm, steady. “Maybe it’s because you’ve been stuck in that mansion, with him always around. Maybe that’s why you feel like you can’t live without him.”
Our eyes met again, and this time, he reached out and gently wiped the tears from my cheeks. He scooted his chair closer, wrapping his arm around my back, his hand soothingly rubbing up and down.
Then, he gently lifted my chin until I was looking into his eyes.
“I’m going to kiss you, Ash.”
“I… I can’t commit to you.”
“Then don’t,” he said simply. “If it helps, use me. Use me to slowly let go of your feelings for him.”
I gasped quietly, stunned by his offer.
Could I really do that?
Could I use someone just to forget another?