More Than AngerSadness
It's been three days since I was fired. I've been trying Alfa's number all this time, but it hasn't connected once, and that only makes everything worse. I barely have the energy to do anything, and my only source of comfort is knowing that my family is safe.
Trust Chuks to make friends so easily.
We continued talking, catching up with each other and even speaking with Eldie. It felt good to bond again, even if just over the phone.
I woke up with the same empty feeling. Loneliness is a terrible thing—it's painful knowing exactly how your entire day will play out. It's even worse knowing you'll spend most of it in bed, doing nothing but counting your regrets.
"This sucks," I muttered, dragging myself up to brush my teeth. I hadn't done that in two days, and my breath smelled terrible.
I really need to start looking for a new job. I sent some money to my brother yesterday, but if I keep doing that without an income, I'll go bankrupt. My house rent is also due soon.
With no appetite, I decided to skip breakfast and crawl back into bed. Sleep, however, remained out of reach.
Maybe I should call Jessica and spend some time with her. They say the best cure for a bad relationship is a good friendship. I reached for my phone to dial her number, but before I could, my door alarm rang.
I opened the door—and froze.
The person standing there shocked me so much that I instinctively shut the door again.
"How is this possible?" I whispered to myself.
But he didn't give me time to process it. He kept knocking.
This is bad. I haven't even showered. I barely brushed my teeth. I sniffed my clothes—ugh, they stink. I'd been wearing them for the past two days.
Panicked, I rushed around, hoping to make myself at least somewhat presentable. But my house was a mess. Last night's plate was still on the table. An unfinished sausage roll rested on the couch. Only now did I realize how unkempt I had been.
He knocked again, making me flinch. I had to be faster.
Halfway through taking the plates to the kitchen, I stopped.
I can't clean the whole house in time. I can't even fix myself up properly. He might leave before I'm done, and I'll miss my only chance to see him.
Besides, it's incredibly immature of me to have slammed the door in his face.
With a deep breath, I made a split-second decision.
I grabbed the oversized hoodie my brother had bought for me, threw it over my dirty gown, and pulled the hood over my messy hair. Rushing back to the living room, I sprayed air freshener everywhere and shoved the mess under the table.
Taking one last breath, I opened the door.
"Hi," I said, slightly out of breath.
He stood there, looking me over from head to toe. Self-conscious, I tugged the hoodie lower, wondering if it was too short to cover my thighs.
"You once promised to invite me over and cook for me," he said in that deep, husky voice of his. The sound alone calmed my racing heart—I nearly moaned.
"Did I?" I asked, leaning on the door, taking in the breathtaking sight of him.
"Yes, over the phone. So I decided to invite myself over."
"You're such a beautiful creature."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He threw his head back and laughed—a rich, throaty sound that made my stomach flip. Embarrassed, I looked down.
"I get that a lot," he teased.
Now that I was no longer tied down by Henry's threats, I found it easier to express my feelings.
"Will you invite me in, or should we make out on the doorstep?" he asked, completely unaware of how many times I'd already kissed him in my head.
"Come in," I said, stepping aside, making sure to keep my distance so he wouldn't smell how awful I was.
"Nice apartment," he commented as he walked in, his eyes scanning the pictures hanging on the walls.
"So, what can I offer you?" I asked, eager to distract him.
"Isn't vegetable soup our tradition?" he asked with a smirk.
I smiled. "Of course."
I rushed to the kitchen, pulling out the frozen vegetable soup I had cooked just yesterday—while thinking of him. As I defrosted it and made semovita, I kept peeking into the living room. He strolled around, admiring the pictures, chuckling at some of them.
He doesn't look sad or angry. That's a good sign.
I had always been confident in my cooking, but for some reason, I was nervous. Would he like it? I was also sweating under the thick hoodie, but I couldn't take it off.
"Are you scared I might not like it?" he asked, looking between me and the food.
"Noooo," I lied, pretending to be indifferent.
"Why don't we eat together?" he suggested.
I washed my hands, watching as he took the first bite.
His eyes closed, and for a moment, he just savored the taste.
"I think this is what my mother's food would have tasted like if I'd been privileged to have it," he finally said.
Warmth spread through me. He compared my cooking to his mother's? I felt so proud.
"How did you even find my house?" I asked, knowing full well he had zero sense of direction.
"I got your information from the company. Then I spent the whole morning asking around for directions," he admitted, looking at me. "It's no fun at all. But you know, nothing is impossible as long as you're determined."
He continued eating, but I couldn't stop watching him.
I could watch him forever.
"Haven't your mama told you staring is rude?" he teased, raising a brow.
"Sorry. It's just... unbelievable that you're here," I confessed.
"Well, I was angry at first. Then sad. But in the end, the urge to see you was stronger than anything else."
"Rea—"
"But I'm still angry, though," he interrupted.
"I'm sorry. I had no choice," I said softly.
"Well, I'm all ears. Tell me your story."