chapter 28
Iselyn
The first thing I see upon waking is, for a change, not Matleon, but a flamingo-colored rose lying on the pillow beside mine, accompanied by a note.
“Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be.”
My heart skips a beat. Is this Matleon? Of course, there is no one else other than him who would come into this room and do this. Is this his new way of messing with me? I leave the rose and note in the drawer near my bedside and walk into the bathroom.
There, one note is stuck to the mirror.
“I’m leaving for office, Angel. I will miss you there. Miss me here.”
What has gotten into this man? Is he possessed all of a sudden? I look at myself in the mirror. And what has gotten into me, why is this affecting me?
I sigh and pick up my toothbrush, chanting my mantra: “Ignore Matleon. Ignore Matleon. Ignore Matleon.”
I can’t stick to the mantra for long because, as soon as he comes in and sits beside me with that grin, the mantra disappears.
“You come home early,” I mutter in a low voice. Wen is playing the piece on the piano that she will perform in her concert, and I’m here to judge her.
He answers with a smile, “I couldn’t stay away from you for too long.”
My heart does the same useless thing, forgetting its only job: beating.
I look away from him. He shifts closer, putting his arm behind me, his side pressed against mine.
I force my focus back to the beautiful music, but I can’t manage it. I’m looking straight ahead, yet the sight in my peripheral vision has completely seized me. All of my attention is on the smiling man watching me, and the music fades into nothing more than a backdrop.
“Will you dance with me?” he asks.
The music is slow and romantic, the kind of dance we could do to it is the one I had dreamed of sharing with him countless times when I was a naive girl.
He takes my hand in his and rises to his feet. Even after asking, he doesn’t truly give me a choice. That’s how Matleon is. He takes what he wants, doesn’t ask. He will play with my heart any way he desires, until he grows bored and discards it.
I push down the negative, too-close-to-reality thoughts and stand. He places his other hand gently on my back and guides me into the dance, moving slowly.
I meet his eyes. He’s looking directly into mine. There’s no amusement, no teasing. Only determination shines there, alongside another emotion I don’t dare misread as affection.
He presses his face against my head, just above my ear. “Do you know, Angel, you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And I want to see you every day until the day I die.”
My chest tightens. “Is this your new hobby? Saying things like that?” I manage to sound unaffected.
He chuckles. “I’ve decided to be a little romantic. And it’s not a bed thing to do. Don’t tell me you don’t like it.”
Moving with the music, I press my hand against his chest and meet his gaze. “I don’t like it.”
He sighs. “You don’t like me romantic, you don’t like me unromantic. How will you ever fall for me when you can’t even like me?”
I look away. “I’m not falling for you, not today, not tomorrow.”
“I’ll wait for day after tomorrow.”
I look back at him. “Is everything a joke for you? Can you be a little serious? Other people have hearts, they are not logical robots like you.”
He frowns. “I’m not a logical robot. I also have a heart and feelings, Angel. I’m a little new in this emotions department, that doesn’t mean you can bully me like this.”
I purse my lips. “You’re joking again.”
“This is not… fine… this is my default state.”
We stop moving when the music ends. Wen looks between us. “You both were dancing?”
Matleon wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Yes. Any problem you have?”
She rolls her eyes, then asks me, grinning, “How was it?”
“It was perfect,” I answer back with a smile.
Matleon
She’s pissed off about something, and I’m having quite a hard time figuring it out, so I make a call to the experienced person. He’s gone for a vacation with my emotional mess of a sister, and I hope she won’t start crying over my call.
“Hello,” Zo says in his monotonous voice. He’s a robot, and here people are accusing me.
“Listen, she is acting very strange. She’s neither talking to me nor looking at me.”
“That’s what she always does.”
“Fuck you, man. That’s not what she always does. What she always does is take small glances, act all confident, and I don’t give a shit—with red cheeks. But since last night, she is acting like she doesn’t want to see me at all. You know, like I’ve committed a serious crime.”
“Then you must have done something.”
“What?” I ask myself, looking toward her. She’s in her garden, and I’m right here, right in front of her eyes. A little far, yes, but she could see me if she wanted to. But she doesn’t want to. And it’s eating me up.
Wait. Is she mad about what I did in the forest? Nah. She doesn’t get mad over such things. Not like this. But… who knows.
“Look, dude, what I do the whole day with her, she doesn’t approve of. So it’s like impossible to figure out. And when I asked her this morning, she said she’s fine.”
“Did you do something that you’ve never done before?”
I rub my chin with my finger, muttering, “I threatened her to fuck, I made her run in the forest and then back home, I asked her to hide, I wrote a romantic note for her, I left a flower in her favorite color beside her pillow, I danced with her. Which part is wrong?”
“The second half.”
“You mean to say the things that every man does are wrong, and the things I do are right? I know you love me, bro, but that doesn’t mean you have to lie just to keep my heart intact.”
“Behaving like a dick is your default state; she’s gotten used to it by now. Leaving flowers and romantic notes is something that could have unsettled her somehow. I can’t tell you exactly what the problem is, but it seems to revolve around that.”
“Alright. This much information is enough. Leave the rest to me. You can go now.”
“Don’t fuck up.”
“I won’t.”
I cut the call, put the phone back inside my pocket, and walk toward her.
“Angel.”
She looks up. God… her eyes.
“Will you go on a date with me?”
She purses her lips. “Didn’t I tell you yesterday that I don’t like you acting romantic?”
“It’s not romantic,” I frown, then realize the very concept of a date is romantic.
“Alright. If you don’t want a date, then how about going for a walk in the forest?” I smile. “You don’t hate the forest, right?”
A shade of pink covers her neck and cheeks. “Why would I?” she asks.
“Don’t want to know about me?”
She shakes her head. I purse my lips. “But I do. So we’re going. We’ll leave now if you want to be back before dinner.”
She gets up and removes her gloves. “And if I refuse?”
“I’ll put you over my shoulder, and then we’ll walk around the forest like that.”
She nods. “Let’s go.”
We start walking. I debate with myself for five minutes over how I should walk with her. One part of me wants to take her hand in mine, while the other, wary of making her even more pissed, insists on keeping my distance. The latter wins.
“Will you not tell me why you are mad at me?”
She glances toward me. “We are not in the kind of relationship where we care about these things.”
“That’s what you think, Angel. And this thinking is wrong. I care about everything related to you.”
She pauses for a step, but continues walking. “What do you care about?”
“I care about your happiness, your comfort, your discomfort—everything.”
“You forced me into this marriage, and now you’re saying you care about my happiness.”
“Can we skip this part? Can’t we try to make this marriage work?” I ask.
We’ve entered the forest area. She pauses and looks at me. “That’s not how things work.”
“Then tell me how they work.”
“A couple needs to be on the same page for their relationship to work. We’re not even in the same book.” She frowns.
I stare at her for a minute, then speak. “I’ll tell you where I am. You tell me where you are.”
“Okay. Go on.”
I lean against a tree behind me. “I want to make this marriage work. I want to wake up every morning with you in my arms. I want to see you every evening after coming home from the work. I want to spend my holidays doing things with you. This is where I am.”
She watches me with slightly parted lips, then looks away. After another minute, she speaks in her soft voice. “I’m trying to avoid you the whole day. Planning to make you divorce me. I think that says pretty much everything.”
My chest feels tight, like my ribs are contracting. “Why, Angel? Can’t I do anything to make you forgive me?” I sound pleading, and it’s not by mistake.
She looks down. “What do you know about loving someone, Matleon?” she mutters.
I close the gap between us by pulling her between my legs. With me leaning against the tree, she is not much below my eye level. “I don’t know anything about it, but I know one thing, I need you in my life,” I mutter. “There is no other way around.”
She watches me with sad eyes. “You want me today, but once you’re bored with me, you will throw me away.”
I frown and grip her chin. “There is nothing like that going to happen. First of all, tell me why you think like this.”
“What we have between us is just physical attraction,” she mutters.
“Yes, it is there. I would love to fuck your sweet pussy, and I could do that three times a day, but that’s not the only thing I want. I told you this before, and I’ll repeat it again. It’s more than just physical, Angel. It started with your shy smiles, and it will end at nothing.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“How can you be so sure that you need oxygen to breathe?” I ask, pulling her closer.
She purses her lips. “It’s biology.”
“Then it’s my biology. I need you, not only because you have a pussy I want to fuck. I can’t explain it in very sophisticated words, but it’s here.” I press my hand over my chest. “It needs you.”
“You’re being romantic again.” She rolls her eyes, but they’re more playful than irritated.
I know a lot of things are not clear between us. We need her will to have this relationship with me to make them clear. The absence of it is making my breathing difficult. Can’t I somehow make this woman understand how much I fucking need her?
I hold her cheeks, drawing her face to mine, and kiss her slightly parted lips, slowly and deeply. She doesn’t pull away, and that alone revives my sinking hope. I’m like a man drowning, clutching even the smallest stick. It’s illogical, well, whatever. I’m in a better mood.
I pull back and stare at her beautiful face, feeling her hot breaths on mine, her eyes that aren’t holding the hurt and sadness. And I kiss her again.
I could never get enough of her—of her eyes that speak too much, of her lips. Of her.
“Soul meets soul on lovers’ lips,” I whisper against her mouth.
“You’re back at it,” she sighs.
I chuckle.