Love Me The Way I Did

Chapter 9

Margaret sluggishly silenced her alarm the following morning and found her way to the mirror. 

Her reflection confirmed the toll of another restless night. Dark circles underscored her eyes–a testament to the myriad faces that haunted her sleep. A sense of regret gnawed at her; returning to Alenvista, she realized, might have been a mistake. Here, she found herself embroiled in battles as fierce as any on the front lines, albeit fought with invisible weapons. 

With a heavy sigh, she began her morning routine, squeezing toothpaste onto her brush. 

By half past eight in the morning, as she walked into the news agency, her arrival seemed to ignite a flurry of excitement. 

“Margaret, is it true you left with Dr. Huxley yesterday?” 

“Someone saw you at Compton Group’s party! Is it really you? The person in that photo didn’t look like you though…” 

Her colleagues swarmed her with inquiries, pressing for details about her evening and her connection with Clifford. Margaret deflected with vague responses, making her way toward the elevator amidst the barrage of questions. 

“Hello?” Suddenly, a deliveryman, clad in uniform and holding a bouquet, cut through the chatter. “I’m looking for Ms. Margaret Wilcox,” he 

announced. 

The room momentarily fell silent before erupting into speculative whispers. 

“Right here!” Colin gestured toward Margaret. 

“Here’s your delivery. Please sign here.” the deliveryman walked over and handed the bouquet to Margaret. 

Meanwhile, Margaret found herself transfixed by the lavender hydrangeas it contained, her favorite flowers. 

The habit of brightening Gideon’s somber bedroom with these very blooms came to mind; she always made sure to refresh the vase with a new bouquet during her visits. Though Gideon never verbally acknowledged it, the choice of flowers was a silent nod to her preference, a detail known only between them. 

“Who’s the sender?” Her colleagues surrounded her curiously. 

Afraid that someone else might find the message that came with the flowers, Margaret quickly signed for the delivery, clutching the bouquet close as she darted into the elevator, leaving behind a trail of sighs of disappointment. 

Once secluded in the elevator, she examined the flowers closely, her thoughts racing, “What is Gideon trying to convey herself as perplexed by his intentions now as she was five years ago. 

Taking a deep breath, she entered the office, closed the door, and began to scrutinize the flowers. 

y with this?‘ She found. 

There was no card, no signature from the sender, no hidden messages, and not even an indication of what she should do next. Margaret would rather things be like they used to be, where a direct text message would give her a clear goal to follow 

Subsequently, she set the bouquet aside and got back to work. 

In the evening, as she prepared to leave, the receptionist’s whisper halted her. “Margaret, you’ve got a package. It came in a minute ago.” 

Under the receptionist’s curious eyes, Margaret approached the desk to find a small, elegantly crafted bag 

She took it with her, walking a short distance before allowing herself the privacy to explore its contents. 

Chapter 9 

Inside, she found a small suede box that, upon a gentle press, revealed a sparkling necklace illuminated by a tiny lamp–a representation of the Big Dipper constellation. 

Margaret froze as she took the necklace out. Memories rushed back at the sight, rendering her momentarily weak. 

“Why are you looking at the sky?” One evening, Gideon didn’t ask her to leave, so she moved a chair to the window to read. Suddenly, the sky drew her attention, and her curiosity about the stars prompted a rare query from Gideon. 

“The Big Dipper is supposed to guide those who are lost. I’m wondering if it can guide me in the right direction,” she mused aloud. 

His response was a sneer, a dismissal of her sentiment. Yet now, the gesture of sending her this necklace seemed to contradict that disdain. ‘Why is he doing this now?” Margaret pondered. 

She stood on the street, watching the crowd past her, the small box in her grasp. Eventually, with a heavy heart, she acknowledged the Nôvel(D)rama.Org's content.

Inevitable. 

“He’s forcing me to meet him, she thought. 

With a sigh, Margaret retrieved her phone from her bag. Despite the numerous SIM cards she had gone through, Gideon’s number was etched in her memory. She entered the familiar sequence of digits, her heart sinking as she did so. 

“Hello,” came the resonant, unhurried voice from the other end. 

“It’s me,” Margaret responded, her voice tinged with nervousness as she fiddled with the edge of her phone, feeling a lump form in her 

throat. 

“Mm,” 

“Gideon replied, unfazed by her call, as if her reaching out was a foregone conclusion… 

“Are you free? Let’s meet,” Margaret ventured. 

“Regen Café on Avenue Street No. 2 I’ll see you in 30 minutes,” said Gideon. 

‘He’s even decided on the location… she thought. She closed her eyes and replied softly after a while, “Okay.” 

As the call ended, she leaned against the nearest wall for support, her gaze lost in the crowd. The anxiety she felt was palpable, her heart racing uncontrollably. 

Arriving at the café half an hour later, Margaret was greeted by the sight of a building that held significant memories for her–the last place she had seen Gideon five years ago. 

“Ms. Wilcox,” came a voice from behind her. 

Turning, Margaret saw a driver standing by a sleek white car, gesturing respectfully toward her. “Mr. Compton has requested your presence in the vehicle,” he informed her. 

‘In the car?‘ Margaret was confused. She hesitated, her eyes briefly scanning the café before settling on the car’s backseat, where Gideon’s silhouette was unmistakable. 

With a resolve born of necessity, she opened the car door and slid inside, sitting in silence beside Gideon, 

The driver also got in the car, and the car pulled away. However, Gideon still had no reaction 

Unable to bear the silence any longer, Margaret turned to face Gideon, extending the box towards him. “I’m giving this back to you,” she stated firmly. 

Gideon, however, refused to accept it, his gaze hardening. “I see no need to reclaim what I’ve willingly given.“” 

“I know,” Margaret countered, her voice steady, “But I cannot accept gifts from people who are irrelevant to me.” 

Their words sparked a palpable tension, an unspoken conflict hanging in the air. 

“People irrelevant…” Gideon mulled over her words, a dange 

spark flashing in his eyes. 

Exasperated, Margaret pressed for clarity. “Gideon, I’m tired of these games. What do you want from me?” 

Suddenly, the car came to a halt. 

Gideon glanced at her before getting out of the car, prompting Margaret to follow suit. However, as she stepped out and saw the 

surroundings, she froze all over. 

‘Isn’t this his home?” she mused. 

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