Once, my paranoid love

Derek’s POV.

The weight of Elena’s direct question hung heavily in the air, and I found myself at a loss for words. I hadn’t anticipated her piercing insight, and her intuition had cut through the facade I had tried to maintain.

My gaze dropped to the floor, my silence speaking volumes of the inner turmoil I grappled with. I couldn’t deny the truth behind her question. I knew she held feelings for him, but I was equally determined to exact retribution for the pain he had caused her. The conflicting emotions tugged at my conscience.

Then, an unexpected touch brought me back from the depths of my contemplation. Elena’s soft fingers encircled my injured hand, and she began applying ointment to the wound. Her focus remained fixed on my hand, and it seemed as if she had momentarily forgotten to blink. I couldn’t help but wonder at her silent determination.

“I didn’t kill him, Elena,” I finally voiced, desperate to convey my intentions. Her response remained elusive, and as she rose from the bed, her expression remained inscrutable.

Elena retrieved a medical kit, methodically bandaging my injured hand and tending to the cut on my lip with ointment. As she completed the bandaging, I realized that unspoken understandings could sometimes transcend words, and I could only hope that she recognized the complex emotions that had driven my actions.

As the weight of unspoken truths lingered in the room, I mustered the courage to speak, to break the silence that had settled between us. With a heavy heart, I uttered, “I’m sorry, Elena.” My voice carried the weight of my regret, and I hoped that my apology would convey the depth of my feelings.

Elena’s response, however, caught me off guard. She turned her attention away from me, her focus shifting to my closet as she carefully selected a dress. Placing it on the edge of the bed, she offered a heartfelt sentiment that resonated with both care and concern.

“Derek,” she began, her voice gentle and filled with understanding, “please don’t soak your wounds. And if you want to shower, just let me know, and I’ll help you.”

The surprise came not from her words, but from the faint smile that graced her lips as she spoke. It was a fragile, delicate smile that revealed a complex array of emotions. I couldn’t quite decipher the thoughts that were racing through her mind, especially after the revelation of my altercation with Paul.

With concern still gnawing at me, I couldn’t help but voice my worries as Elena made her way towards the bathroom. I questioned, my tone tinged with anxiety, “So you aren’t mad at me, right?”

Elena turned to face me, her response carrying a note of reassurance that I desperately needed. “Why would I?” she asked, her voice gentle and understanding. “You didn’t kill him, as you said you wouldn’t.”

As Elena entered the bathroom, I couldn’t help but smile. Thanks to Paul, he hit me last night.

Elena’s POV.Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Inside the bathroom, as I locked the door, a wave of emotions overwhelmed me. I pressed my lips together, attempting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was a confusing mix of guilt, care, love, and uncertainty that swirled within me. Had I truly made a mess of everything? I questioned myself, each doubt weighing heavily on my heart.

With a trembling hand, I turned on the shower, allowing the water to cascade over me. It was my solace, a temporary sanctuary where I could let my tears blend with the streams of water, hidden from anyone’s view. The bathroom became my refuge, where I could wrestle with the emotions that seemed to have a life of their own.

After a few minutes, I emerged from the bathroom, still carrying the weight of recent events, and was met with the sight of Derek struggling to put on his shirt. His wounded hand posed a challenge, and I couldn’t stand idly by, allowing his discomfort to persist. It was now my duty, as his wife, to offer assistance and support.

“Let me help you,” I offered, my voice filled with compassion. I approached him, my towel on the chair nearby, ready to assist in any way I could.

As I helped Derek with his shirt, I couldn’t help but notice the nervous look in his eyes. Yet, he didn’t resist, allowing me to assist him. The intimacy of the moment didn’t go unnoticed, and a sense of vulnerability lingered in the air.

“You have an office, right?” I inquired, looking for a conversation to ease the tension. It was a practical question, but one that also hinted at my desire to know more about his daily life.

Derek responded, “Yes, Elena, I have a meeting today, but I’ll be home early.”

His warm hands cupped my face, drawing my attention back to him. “If you become bored, go outside or go shopping, but remember to bring Pom with you. In fact, I have hired a bodyguard for you,” he added, his eyes filled with a protective concern that touched me deeply.

I couldn’t help but smile faintly in response. “This is too much for me,” I admitted, unsure of how to navigate this new world of privilege and protection.

Derek, however, met my uncertainty with a gentle reminder of our newly defined relationship. “You are my wife, remember it, honey,” he said, his smile reflecting a mix of affection and reassurance.

Lowering my gaze slowly, I contemplated whether or not I should voice my thoughts. Would he be open to what I had to say? Hesitating only briefly, I decided to express my request.

“Do you mind if I say something?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.

Derek’s response was immediate and encouraging. “Of course,” he answered, his eyes sparkling, as if he welcomed the idea of me expressing my thoughts and desires.

With a hint of hesitation in my voice, I finally voiced the question that had been on my mind. “Can I go back to university?”

Derek’s initial response was inquisitive, his tone carrying a curiosity that hinted at a potential change in the dynamics of our relationship. “University?” he asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes,” I confirmed.