Rejected By My Bestfriend, Accepted By The Badboy

Chapter Thirty

The poor man looked as if he was ready to drive away, and I could see from the corner of my eyes how neighbours peeked through their windows. I also noticed that Cynthia, too, had joined us. However, she stayed inside and watched.

Her dad looked at me for a minute with a curt nod before returning his attention to his family with a sigh.

“Paris, let’s go inside. You’re waking the neighbours.”

From the way she stumbled back a bit to where I had to catch her, I knew Paris couldn’t believe her ears. Her dad had yet to address what she just revealed to him, and after watching his stance, he wasn’t surprised either.

Her mother looked guilty, but not where her husband was concerned. More like for her children who had now learnt her secret.

“Unbelievable,” Paris mumbled with her voice back to normal before she spun on her heels and ran to my car. I stood, just as awestruck as everyone, as she slammed the door behind her.

“Paris!” her mother called and moved to go after her but was abruptly stopped by her husband.

“Fabian, let’s go!” Paris shouted, and I stood there, looking between them all. I had no idea what to do. Should I yield to my obviously upset girlfriend’s request, coming in the middle of a family issue? Or should I let her parents decide what their 17-year-old daughter should do?

Evidently, I wanted to do what Paris wanted, but it wasn’t my call, considering both her parents were here. Still, I felt like if I didn’t get in that car soon, she’d drive away without me.

“It’s okay,” her dad said in a small voice, looking both tired and embarrassed, maybe because of the commotion on their street caused by his family and the now exposed affair his wife was having.

Without another thought, I nodded at his approval and moved as fast as I could to the car. Her mother protested but was soon dragged inside by her husband.

Paris was already strapped in and ready to go. Sighing, I joined her in the car, seeing that her tears had stopped, and her expression was blank and void of all emotion. It scared me. I have never seen Paris so… stoic.

I reached for her hand, and luckily she didn’t pull away this time. I placed a kiss on her knuckles, knowing how much she loved when I did that, but her expression remained the same.

I sighed again. I could think of a million ways to cheer her up, and I knew they would work. But she didn’t need cheering up. I believed she needed to let out whatever was going on in her beautiful mind.

“Where do you want me to take you?” I asked in a soft, careful voice. The last thing I wanted was for her to snap again.

“Anywhere,” she mumbled. “Anywhere but here. I don’t wanna be here.” Her voice broke, and I knew I couldn’t take it anymore.

I hated to see her cry, let alone be so sad. Despite her silent protests, I pulled her onto my lap, happy that the car was too dark for anyone to see. She snuggled her nose in my neck after she stopped fighting me, and soon I felt warm liquid hitting my shoulder. I squeezed her tighter to me and hoped that my embrace would offer some level of comfort to her.

I knew this couldn’t be easy for her either. She regarded the world from such a positive and vibrant perspective that it was utterly adorable at times. This is the girl who cries if we pass a dead puppy or smiles at the strangest and simplest things like frolicking butterflies. Paris didn’t deserve pain. She was far too good for it.

“He knew,” she mumbled in such a small voice that I almost didn’t hear. “My dad knew.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew if I spoke, I’d ruin it for her. She needed to let it out, so I simply listened.

“You know why I was mad? I guess I knew too. Every time we would gather as a family, it felt so strained, like an elephant was sitting on the dinner table. They acted like a scripted couple, and I knew that something wasn’t right all along.” She sniffled as she continued. “When it just started happening, I sensed the shift in our home, I did. I somehow knew deep down that something wasn’t right, but I played it off, just like they did.”

She pulled away and stared at me, her usually bright eyes now dull and sad.

“I stopped watching films with happy families. I stopped paying attention to what a family would feel like because when I did, it always triggered something in me—like panic.”

A quick memory flashed in my mind of the night I found her passed out in my room. Chad had mentioned that she was fine one second looking at pictures, then she was gone. I feared it would happen again. I didn’t want any harm whatsoever to come to my Paris.

“I don’t know why, but the thought of family always got me scared because I knew mine was falling apart,” she added, and I was relieved that she sounded normal, with no evidence of panic.

I wanted to tell her that it wasn’t falling apart, but I wouldn’t tell her something I wasn’t sure of. But as she spoke, I realized that this was an occurring problem far before she met me. How did she cope? How did she control her unusual yet actual panic attacks? I didn’t know.

It seemed as if seeing it play out before her eyes actually showed her how real it was, but she still would have healing to do. A lot too. And I intended to be there every step of the way with her, no matter how hard it gets. When I told her of my past and family issues, she always stuck by me and made me happy. So, I vowed to do the same for her, forever.

But first, I knew that there was something I needed to do.

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Another Fabian POV! Loved it.

Only a handful of chapters to go guys! (cries) literally like three!

See you soon! <3