~Just Us~

       I can't stand being the cause of the tears
                                 on your cheek
           There's a lump in my throat, and it won't
                                  let me speak
      You've been askin' to talk, I've been puttin' it off
         Guess I'm scared of letting you in on the lies
                                    that I keep
•
James Arthur

•<>•
Sitting here with her, my arms wrapped around her, and her back leaning against my chest feels so surreal.

Four months ago, I believed I had lost her when I chose to keep my secret from her and traveled across the world, far away from her. I thought that distancing myself for that long would resolve the problem, that being away from her would erase my feelings, but that hope proved futile.

I immersed myself in work, tirelessly contributing to my father's projects, trying to keep busy and avoid being alone to escape drowning in my thoughts and misery. Despite the constant presence of people around me, I still felt a profound sense of loneliness. Despite the successes that came from my endeavors, despite the happiness surrounding me, deep inside, a pool of sadness slowly drowned me.

I made every effort to stay afloat, to leave my past behind, and to move on, but I couldn't. My feelings for her continued to pull me back, no matter how hard I tried to distance myself.

Her innocent eyes, her beautiful smile... I couldn't stop thinking about them; they provided me comfort in my darkest times. Her voice consistently pulled me out of the darkness that enveloped me during most nights when I lay in bed, yearning for a peaceful night's sleep, only to find myself immersed in nightmares.

These nightmares followed me even to Malaysia, acting as a persistent shadow that clung to me everywhere I went...an inescapable presence.

For how long will they continue to torment me? Haven't I endured enough punishment? How much longer will this persist? I believed it was over, yet for the past couple of months, I've traversed through hell and back, pleading my case and attempting to rectify my wrongs.

I admit that I've wronged my family, and they may never forgive me but don't I at least deserve a second chance at freedom? At peace? Is this perpetual fear of encountering those demons every time I lay down to sleep to be my fate? Haven't the punishments I've faced throughout my life been sufficient? How many more must I endure?

"Ethan?" Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts, a saving I needed from the darkness I was starting to drift into.

Meeting her gaze, her eyes convey worry as they scan my face, searching for answers. "Is everything alright?" she asks, her voice gentle and caring.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about work," I reply, hoping my response will dispel the worry swimming in her eyes.

Despite having conversations with her and sharing relevant aspects of my life, there are certain things I've chosen to omit, and my nightmares fall into that category. I didn't see the need to bring them up; it's not important. What would I tell her? That my past haunts my dreams, and no matter how hard I try to escape my demons, they still follow me? It's better if she doesn't know about them. I don't want her to worry. They're my burden to bear, and if I'm to conquer them, I have to do it alone.

"You were saying something?" I ask her, attempting to divert her mind from whatever thoughts are brewing in there.

"I was talking about this photo," she smiles, raising my phone in her hand to my eye level, her back still leaning against my chest. "You looked so good; I've never seen you in a suit before."

Glancing at a photo my business partners and I took after a 3-hour meeting, memories of that day rush back, reminding me of the weariness from endless meetings that ensued.

"Suits aren't my thing, but I don't mind putting them on for you," I say softly, pecking her temple.

She simply smiles, wrapping her hand around my wrist that's resting on her chest. "You looked very handsome."

As I lean in to kiss her cheek, she tilts her head slightly to the side to allow me greater access to her face and neck. "Had I known earlier that wearing suits would elicit such praise from you, I would have shared more pictures like this with you sooner," I mumble against her cheek, then plant more kisses on her skin, my arms still encircling her as our fingers entwine.

"Maybe you should have," she playfully remarks, "but do you know what's better than a suit?" She asks softly as she bites the side of her bottom lip, her body heating up and her heartbeat heightening as I drag my lips down to her neck.

I know what she's about to say; I know the turn this conversation is taking and as my hand slips under her shirt — my palm coming into contact with the bare skin of her chest, her heart pounds, its force palpable against my hand.

"No, what is it?" I ask softly as I graze her nipple, earning a gentle gasp from her. I start to draw patterns all over her breast, teasing her a little as I play around her hardened tip. My actions prompt an accelerated heartbeat from her; her chest rises and falls at a steady pace, and her breaths come in soft gasps.

My heart is racing, and I can feel heat spreading through my body like wildfire, burning every part of me with intense desire.

As I press my lips to her neck once more, she lets out a sharp gasp and tightens her hold on my hand, as though she doesn't want me to take my hand away from her beating heart.

"Don't keep me waiting too long, love. What is it? What's better than a suit?" My voice comes out sultry and dripping with desire as I circle my finger around her swollen nipple, her body reacting to my touch as her breath deepens.

"Well, it's..." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "It's..." Just as she's about to utter another word, my phone rings, interrupting our heated moment.

Frustrated, I slip my hand out of her shirt, and she picks up my phone from where it was placed minutes ago. "Who's calling?" I ask her.

As soon as she looks at the screen, her body tenses, and her face morphs into a mix of confusion and surprise, fueling my curiosity even more. "Rosie," she says and shows it to me; indeed, her name is displayed on my phone screen.

"Here, you can take it. I'm thirsty; I need a glass of water," she adds, getting up from the couch as soon as she hands me the phone.

"Stay," I command her immediately after she's about to walk out. "You don't have to excuse yourself whenever she calls; I don't want to hide anything that's going on between her and me from you."

She stands still, her eyes locked into mine, her lips parted, and yet, not a word has slipped past them— it's as if she's deep in thought.

Is she having second thoughts about the decision she made?

"I know this is awkward, but it will be okay; just, don't let go. I need you," I say. Our eyes remain locked, and the sound of my phone ringing fades into the background because, right now, nothing else matters to me but her. She's all that matters to me.

Reluctantly, she settles beside me, turning to face me. A brief scrunch of her mouth serves as reassurance, indicating that she's okay, even though the spark in her eyes has dimmed.

I take her hand in mine, immediately engulfing it as I place it on my thighs before answering the call.

After a brief conversation with Rosie, we finally exchange goodbyes and hang up. With Mallory by my side, every second of that phone call felt less burdensome and somewhat bearable, even though the conversation took less than 5 minutes.

Having her with me gives me the strength to endure the darkness around me. Her presence is like a bright twinkling star, casting its light on me and providing a reason to smile whenever the sun goes down.

"Are you okay?" After hearing what Rosie and I discussed on that phone call, I need to ensure that Mallory is alright. I want to reassure her that the conversation I had a minute ago doesn't change the way I feel about her.

"Yeah," she nods a little, blinking away her tears, her head facing down. "Umm, can I — can I ask you something?" She raises her gaze to meet mine and rolls her lips into her mouth before releasing them.

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Can I meet her? Rosie. I want to see her."

Her sudden request takes me by surprise, leaving me to wonder why she wants to meet Rosie and what I should do about it.

   •<<<>>>•

Under the midday sun, the city stirs with renewed energy. A gentle cool breeze carries the distant scent of blooming flowers — they are adorned with morning dew, swaying in the breeze, and sunlight bathes this city in a beautiful glow.

Stepping into the restaurant, my eyes gleam with the remnants of a morning bathed in spring's splendor. As I gaze around, captivated by the sheer elegance and sophistication of this exquisite restaurant, my heartbeat quickens. It's not just the ambiance that's stirring my emotions; it's also the anticipation of the person we're about to meet.

Despite days and nights of wrestling with my decision, there's a part of me that insists on going through with it. I feel compelled to see her, to hear her perspective—not because I doubt Ethan, but for some reason, I just need to see her. Does that even make sense?

It's as if he can read my inner turmoil; he tenderly intertwines his fingers with mine, gently squeezing my hand while his thumb traces comforting circles on its back. A thoughtful gesture, a silent reassurance that speaks volumes.

Casting a glance in his direction, a small smile plays on my lips before shifting my gaze down to the brown wedges I bought specifically for this occasion. They pair perfectly with the navy blue halter dress that hugs my torso and falls loosely to my calf. The dress features a slit, starting slightly above my knee and trailing down to the bottom.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" He questions me once again, his voice tinged with both concern and care.

The waiter guides us to meet her, leading us to a more secluded section. It becomes evident that we're heading toward the private dining area, signaled by the shifting ambiance and the scarcity of diners in this part of the restaurant.

"Yes," I reassure him with a nod, stealing another glance at him. Internally, my nerves are in turmoil, and a sense of unease courses through me, causing my heart to pound like a drum.

He tightens his lips into a straight line, a blend of worry evident in his eyes, even though he's trying to conceal it.

Continuing a few steps forward, he utters words that send my heart racing, and my gaze swiftly shifts toward the person he's talking about. "There she is, dressed in yellow," he murmurs, leaning slightly closer to my ear.

Gazing upon her, I'm struck by her beauty, and a sense of awe washes over me, accompanied by a subtle feeling of intimidation. She is very pretty; her skin radiates a flawless, sun-kissed glow as if touched by the warmth of a perpetual summer. Her hair cascades in a golden cascade, woven with subtle threads of chestnut, creating a luminous blend that catches the sunlight with a warm, natural radiance.

She appears entranced by the glow of her phone, her fingers gracefully gliding over the screen as she sits in a composed manner.

She epitomizes sophistication, adorned in a luxurious yellow silk. Her demeanor exudes refinement and a poised elegance that speaks of privilege and cultivated taste. Adorned in tasteful, high-end gold accessories that sparkle even from a distance, she moves through the world with dignity and charm, exuding a certain wealthy air as she goes about.

So this is Rosie...
                                
                                        AN

What are your thoughts about this chapter and Mallory's sudden decision to meet Rosie?

                                      ***

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                       🧡🤎