Dedicated to Shall909. Because of you I continued this story once again.
I'm always scared to say how I really feel.
No one really wants to hear "It's getting worse."
Everyone wants to hear "It's finally better."
But what if it isn't.....
What if I'm lying?
— Unknown
A Surprise POV
I awoke in the dimly lit room, grateful that the thick drapes still shielded the daylight. My head throbbed with an ache that ebbed and flowed like a cold tide. Squinting, I found my mouth dry and sticky, a telltale sign of dehydration.
Last night's whiskey aroma lingered in the air, intoxicating then and nauseating now. I thought a painkiller might offer some relief. I tried to open my heavy eyelids, only to be overwhelmed by the brightness, retreating back under the duvet.
But movement beside me drew my attention. I cautiously opened my eyes again and adjusted to the light by rubbing them with my hand. There lay a very naked back, a complete stranger to me.
Who was she, and what was she doing in my bed?
I swung my bare feet to the cold floor, the room spinning briefly before steadying. I steadied myself by leaning against the nearby wall.
Why did I drink so excessively?
I glanced at the girl again, memories of the previous night flooding back, intensifying the throbbing in my head. This wasn't supposed to happen.
It was just a one-night stand, and the intimacy I felt then had nothing to do with waking up next to her. I decided to deal with her later when my mind would be more stable.
With my head still pounding, I made my way to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on my face offered a brief respite. In the mirror, I saw my puffy, red eyes and disheveled hair, barely recognizing the person staring back at me.
I opened the cabinet door, hoping to find painkillers to ease my headache. I stepped into the shower, the hot water soothing my sore muscles, providing a moment of relief. The hot shower helped, and when I caught my reflection in the mirror again, I looked somewhat more human.
I made my way to the living room, seeking to wet my dry throat with a glass of water when the sound of the doorbell interrupted my solitude.
Right now, I had no desire to deal with any human.
Taking slow sips from the glass, I reluctantly headed towards the door to open it.
The man standing at the threshold wore a perpetual scowl on his face. His well-groomed mustache was a constant feature of his stern countenance. In his mid-fifties, faint wrinkles graced his face.
"Just the person I was missing," I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Young Master," he greeted me formally, as he always did.
And just like that, he managed to worsen my already sour mood.
I left the door ajar for him to enter and closed it behind him. Taking a seat on the sofa, I found him standing directly in front of me.
He was still wearing that black suit with a white shirt and vest. It was an eyesore. I often wondered how many identical suits, or should I say uniforms, he owned.
"Why are you here?" I asked, irritation seeping into my voice.
"Where were you last night?" he inquired, maintaining his formal tone.
Last night.
I remembered going to the club, getting drunk as hell, meeting a girl, and spending a very long night with her. I gave him a bored look. To avoid engaging with him, I brought out my phone and started scrolling aimlessly.
"Are you really going to stay here... in this hotel suite?" he gestured with a dramatic flair.
What was so wrong with staying here? It was a luxury suite, better than any home.
At least I felt some semblance of happiness here.
"I don't have a home," I stated flatly. I never had one.
"Young master..."
"Will you please fucking stop calling me that?" I snapped, my patience wearing thin. I didn't want to hear that repulsive title. He shut his mouth, unfazed by my outburst. He was used to this.
I was not a prince or an heir who would inherit properties from my predecessors.
I was no master.
Our attention was diverted when we heard the clinking of heels coming from a certain room. I was relieved that I hadn't taken that girl to my master bedroom.
The thought of sharing my bed with her was unappealing. Last night was a mistake. I wasn't supposed to drink, let alone bring her to my room.
My emotions had gotten the best of me. They were suffocating me, and I needed an escape.
The clinking of heels grew louder as a figure in a skimpy dress approached me. Her makeup was smeared, and her hair was a mess. I wondered how I had even decided to sleep with her.
She was not my type at all. But then again, you don't look for your type in a one-night stand. The grin on her lips widened with each step she took towards me.
"You were so good last night." She wrapped her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. I wrinkled my nose. She reeked of alcohol. From the corner of my eye, I saw John avert his gaze in discomfort. She let go of me. "Bye, Stranger." She walked towards the exit but gave me a wink before shutting the door.
I heaved a sigh of relief as I sat on the sofa. That was easy. She wasn't clingy like others.
"Why did you drink last night? You know it's not good for your condition," John said when he saw me rubbing my temple.
To forget reality.
"Why are you here?"
"Did you...did you meet her?" He stuttered slightly.
Of course, he was the one who told her where I was staying.
I glared at him. "You told her where I'm staying!"
"She said she wanted to bring you back home..." He tried to justify his betrayal.
How did I even trust him? He was just her puppet after all.
"I don't have a home!!"
"She is your mother."
"I don't have a mother!!!" I yelled.
Her venomous words from last night still echoed in my head.
You don't fit in our family. Go back and never show us your face.
She was a hypocrite.
But why... even after so many years, did her words still have the power to hurt me?
There was silence, except for the sound of my harsh breaths. I was angry.
"Your father also told me to bring you home," John broke the silence.
"So, he also knows I'm back," I said bitterly.
Of course, they both knew. They were still trying to control my life.
"Should I pack your things?" He asked hopefully.
This man never gave up. Why was he so annoying?
"Leave," I said tiredly. He was worsening my headache.
"But.."
"I said leave!!" I raised my voice.
He walked towards the guest room, probably to clean up the mess I had created last night.
I lay down on the sofa and tried to relax. I had thought coming back here after so many years was a good decision. But everything was still the same.
My so-called mother told me to leave and never come back, but I would never give her that satisfaction. I wasn't that kid anymore. She didn't scare me anymore.
But she shouldn't have done that last night. I wasn't crossing her. I didn't even care about her existence. I had left all of them behind that day. I had nothing to do with them anymore. So why did she still feel so threatened by me?
I realized it too late—relationships were burdensome responsibilities.
But now, I was free.
The buzzing of my phone brought me back to reality.
And after hearing the news the person on the line just gave me, a genuine smile graced my face—a smile that had been missing for far too long.
.
.
.
.
Walking through the familiar gate, I gazed around, the sun at its peak. I was grateful for my decision to wear a t-shirt on this warm day. A few people were scattered around the park, but my eyes were drawn to a particular spot.
There she was, sitting on the same bench as last time.
I approached her, taking a few steps towards the bench. She seemed deeply engrossed in whatever she was doing on her laptop, earbuds in her ears. A strand of hair fell across her face from her messy bun, which she quickly pushed back behind her ear.
I stood there, a few steps away from her, watching her intently. She was completely unaware of my presence, so I took the opportunity to observe her closely, something I couldn't do last time.
Her heart-shaped face was free of makeup, yet her olive skin glowed beautifully in the natural light. Her brown hair, with a reddish tint in the sunlight, danced in the cool breeze.
My gaze drifted down to her neck. The oversized sweatshirt she wore concealed her figure, leaving everything to my imagination.
She must have felt my eyes on her because she looked away from her laptop and turned her head toward me. Her eyes met mine, and she blinked a few times before narrowing her eyes at me. She recognized me, and it was evident from her expression.
I couldn't help but give her a sly smile—I couldn't contain my amusement. I couldn't read her mind, but she took a deep breath and returned her focus to typing on her laptop, deliberately ignoring my presence.
Undeterred, I walked over and sat on the bench beside her, making sure to leave some space between us. A laptop backpack separated us.
I had come all the way here, under the scorching sun, just to see her, and now she was completely ignoring me? It was impossible to believe.
I attempted to sneak a peek at her laptop's screen, curious about what had captured her attention and kept her away from my charms.
However, she quickly moved it out of my view, denying me the chance to satisfy my curiosity. But at least she was partially acknowledging my existence.
I wanted her full attention, though, not just a mere fraction of it.
There was a paper bag resting on top of her backpack. I couldn't resist the temptation to find out what was inside, so I gently opened it with my fingertip.
To my delight, I discovered blue and red wrappers of chocolates inside. It was evident that she had a sweet tooth, as there was also a half-eaten chocolate bar lying beside her backpack.
Before I could explore the bag further, she swiftly snatched it away from me and placed it on the other side, shooting me a glare in the process.
In response, I offered a small, awkward smile, trying not to let her annoyance deter me.
An exasperated sigh escaped her lips this time. "You really have no concept of privacy, do you?" she asked, clearly irritated.
"Well, hello to you too, Girlfriend," I retorted playfully, glad that I finally had her complete attention. She removed one earbud from her ear.
"Who is your girlfriend?" she asked, wrinkling her nose in confusion.
"You," I replied cheekily.
"Seriously, dude... Are we still doing this? Who's chasing you today?" she inquired, glancing around.
I couldn't help but feel slightly offended. Girls don't chase me all the time.
"No one is chasing me. I came here to meet you," I said earnestly, hoping she'd believe me.
She raised an eyebrow skeptically at my statement. "Really..." she said, feigning enthusiasm. "...we met. Now leave," she declared, pointing towards the park's exit.
"I've been visiting this park all week, hoping to see you, Girlfriend, and now you're telling me to leave?" I gave her a wounded look, hoping to pull at her heartstrings a little.
"Look, mister, I don't even know you. And stop with this 'Girlfriend' crap," she said firmly, her tone serious.
"So, this is the problem. You don't know who I am. Well, I am—"
"Actually, I know who you are," she interjected, cutting me off mid-sentence.
Did she know me? How?
"You know me?" I asked curiously.
"Of course. How can I not know you, Mr. Promiscuous?" she said sweetly.
I stared at her in shock, my mouth agape.
Did she just...?
Promiscuous...
That's what she thought about me. I knew my first impression wasn't good, but... Mr. Promiscuous?
Ouch!
In disbelief, I let out a laugh.
It was a pure insult.
"Mr. Promiscuous... seriously?" I asked, my tone reflecting my distaste.
"Why? Am I wrong?" she shot back, narrowing her eyes.
If I started counting...
I looked away, suddenly not wanting to answer that question.
She scoffed at my response and muttered, "I knew it."
Her words irked me. She couldn't humiliate me like that. I had some self-respect. "Is this why you said last time that I'm afraid of commitment? Because you think that of me?"
She knitted her eyebrows together, seemingly trying to recall. "I said that?"
"Well, you certainly did! But you don't have any right to judge people like that," I stated firmly.
She was quiet for a few seconds, but then said in a low voice, "Sorry, but I was not judging you. I just made an assumption based on whatever I witnessed last time. So tell me... Am I wrong?"
"Obviously, you are wrong!" I retorted without wasting a second.
She kept staring at me, as if I were guilty of someone's murder. It made me uncomfortable. "I'm not afraid of commitment, and I'm obviously not promiscuous. You are wrong."
Why was I saying that? It was like I was trying to prove my innocence, which was utterly idiotic.
"Sure."
What? That's it?
"You don't believe me," I figured it out from her nonchalant answer.
"Do you believe it yourself?" she asked.
"Of course, I do."
"Then why are you trying to prove it to me so hard? You believe in yourself... isn't that enough?" Her question caught me completely off guard.
Is that what I was doing?
She put her laptop aside and faced me completely. "Do you want me to prove it?"
"Prove what?"
"Your promiscuity..." she trailed off.
"There is nothing to prove. It's simple. I go on dates with girls, we have fun, and when we don't get along, we move on," I countered.
"Are you sure 'date' is the right word for your situation?" She asked, clearly looking amused.
This girl was too infuriating. "Are you mocking me?" I said offendedly.
"No! Obviously not. Just answer my questions, and you will understand what I'm trying to say." She seemed excited about this debate.
Idiotically, I said yes.
"If I'm not wrong, you must have been on a date last night too," she questioned.
It was not a date... No, don't think like that. You are proving her point!
I gave her a nod.
"What was her name?"
Her name... I never asked.
"Hmmm... Anna," I lied. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"What does she do?"
"She... hmmm... I don't know." What stupid questions she was asking?
"You are taking too much time to think. Reply instantly," she scolded me. "Where does she live?"
I rubbed the back of my neck awkwardly. "I'm not sure."
She shook her head in disbelief. "At least you must remember what she was wearing?"
"Nothing."
As soon as those words left my mouth, I clamped it shut. She gave me an incredulous look. She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it.
There was a deafening silence for a moment. I could only hear birds chirping from the distance. It felt like even they were mocking me.
When I looked back at her, I saw her lips curved slightly upward. Her whole face seemed to say, 'Hence proved my point.'
She picked up her laptop and returned to her previous task. This time, I was able to peek at what she was typing. She was making a presentation on climate change.
From her appearance, I concluded she must be a college student.
"Forget about me. Let's start with you. What is your name?" I tried to strike up another conversation, but it was a lame attempt to change the topic.
"Why should I tell you?" she said in an uninterested tone.
"This is how we will get to know each other," I reasoned.
"But I don't want to know you," she stated. Her whole focus was on typing.
Why was she being so difficult?
"Come on, I'm just asking for your name... not your hand in marriage," my words came out like a distressed cry. I couldn't believe I was whining like a child. Something was wrong with me.
She looked at me like I was crazy.
She studied my face for a few seconds. "Seriously, dude, what's your problem... is it your hobby to annoy random strangers?"
"I'm just trying to make civil conversation."
"Civil..." She scoffed.
She shut down her laptop, looked up at the sky dramatically, and muttered under her breath, "Why another freak God... why?"
I wanted to laugh at her, but I didn't because she called me a freak.
She had a habit of constantly insulting me.
But who was the other freak she was talking about?
She picked up the half-eaten chocolate and took a huge bite. Her eyes closed in delight as she savored the flavor, and she nodded slightly, satisfied with her action.
Letting out a tired sigh, she turned her head in my direction. "I can see right now that I'm going to have to be more explicit when I talk to you." She gestured toward her laptop. "I have a deadline. I have to prepare this presentation today... and you are clearly not helping."
Dark circles were visible under her brown eyes. Stress and exhaustion were etched on her face.
"I can help," I offered. But what exactly was I going to help with? I wasn't sure. I didn't know why I even said that.
"And how are you going to help me?" she knitted her eyebrows.
"I'm not sure," I said honestly.
She pursed her lips and shook her head in disbelief. She stared at me for a few seconds, as if I were a clown.
A look of realization flashed in her eyes. She was about to say something, but her phone started ringing. She walked away to take the call.
I overheard a bit of their conversation. "Yeah, I decided to just bunk. Meet me at the café. We'll discuss the details there."
She was leaving.
After ending her call, she put her things inside her bag and said, "Sorry, but I can't entertain you today. I've completed my quota of dealing with crazy people yesterday." Sarcasm dripped from her voice.
Swinging the bag over her shoulder, she held the paper bag in the other hand and stood there, looking at me intently. I remained seated on the bench, observing her.
"If you feel that alone inside, you should just try to find a new, decent hobby. Stop chasing random girls in the park. Otherwise, the police will definitely feel honored to help you out in this state of turmoil."
Alone inside? She was talking as if she knew me really well. But she knew nothing.
"I guess it's time for goodbye, Mr. Promiscuous." With that, she began walking towards the gate.
I hurriedly got up to follow her. "Before you leave, just tell me why you said that last time... that I'm afraid of commitment?"
She watched me for a moment. "I say a lot of things. You really don't have to take that seriously."
I sighed heavily. "Well, I took it seriously. Now tell me."
She looked away, dragging her teeth over her lower lip. "Maybe I said that because of whatever I saw that day. You were driving that girl away. And from looking at you, it seemed like you must be doing that every day. You like to have fun with them, but when it's time to get serious, you run away."
I raised an eyebrow. "You said that based on some assumption about me?"
She narrowed her eyes at me. "What were you expecting then? An explanation woven with fancy words?"
I was foolish enough to find her odd behavior intriguing. I thought she saw something in me that day, something that normal people couldn't see. I thought she was special and intriguing.
I was wrong.
Irritation pricked through me. "I thought you were leaving," I said when she didn't make any move and kept staring at my face, as if she wanted to say something but then decided against it.
She gave me a wry smile. "I was." She muttered the last part. "Freak!"
I added another word to the list—first Mr. Promiscuous, and now Freak. Just great!
She started sauntering in the direction of the gate, and I followed her from five feet apart but almost bumped into her back when she suddenly stopped walking.
Turning around, she looked at me, our bodies just a few inches apart.
My heart started thumping loudly because of our closeness, which was odd because proximity with girls never scared me. She consciously took two steps back.
"Why do you care so much about what someone thinks of you?" She asked out of the blue.
I frowned. Where did that question come from? "I don't."
She narrowed her scrutinizing gaze at me. "Yes, you do. That's why you keep asking me that question again and again."
How should I explain to her that it was not because I cared about her or anyone's opinion of me? It was because of that odd feeling.
The way she said I was afraid of commitment, it felt like she knew exactly what I was going through, like she felt it too.
Maybe I had been waiting for her all week only because I thought I finally found someone who understood me.
But I was being delusional. "Don't worry. I will not ask that question... because we will never meet again."
Her brows furrowed as if she was deeply contemplating something. When her eyes met my gaze again, they sparkled with profound realization. "No, you will keep asking this question, if not from me, then from yourself... until you get the answer that your heart desires," she whispered softly.
"What?"
She bit the inside of her cheek. "I'm not sure if I get this right or not, but do you want me to answer your question?"
I nodded my head, eager to hear her explanation.
She inclined her head, her gaze settling on the fallen leaves on the ground in the distance. Her eyes appeared sad.
"Maybe at one point in your life, you were too overwhelmed by control and expectations thrown at you by people, that now the only thing you seek in your life is freedom. And now, even the thought of a relationship and commitment makes you feel trapped, even the thought of someone controlling your life must be suffocating for you." Dumbfounded by her words, I continued to stare at her while she spoke. "It's kind of a defense mechanism. We all harbor defenses that we believe will protect us from getting hurt."
Oblivious to my frozen gaze, her brown orbs stayed fixed on the fallen leaves, and there was a hollowness in her eyes.
As if she read my mind, each word she said held so much weight. I was afraid of commitment, and I was not accepting this fact. But after hearing her words loud and clear, it was hard to deny anymore. I couldn't run away from reality.
Her every word told the truth of my life.
"How?" I whispered, so stunned by her revelation that I couldn't even ask a proper question.
But she understood and gave me a genuine smile. "Because I know someone who is also afraid, just like you."
This girl was too damn infuriating. When I finally decided that she was nothing special, she threw another bucket of heavy words at me.
Could she really read me like an open book? Or was it just another assumption from her side?
"You didn't want to know the reason behind my words... you wanted to know the meaning behind them. I hope I have answered your questions," she said, taking a step back and turning in the direction of the gate.
I stayed glued to the ground, still contemplating her words, while her petite figure grew smaller and smaller with the distance. "Are you a psychiatrist?" I called out loudly.
I heard her faint chuckle. "Only a part-timer."
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29 Sep, 2021. (Revised)
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