His Loving Eyes [18+]

46

"I've missed you so much, I was so worried about you," my mom sobs into my shoulders, holding me tight in her arms. I rub her back to comfort her, "I'm fine, Mom, really. And I'm here."

I see my dad shaking Devon's hand out of the corner of my eye, but the way he looks at Devon, as if he wants to kill him, sends a chill down my spine. Mom pulls away, wiping her tears, and I move to hug Dad. "Are you really okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine, Dad. I promise," I reply, hoping to reassure him.

I hear Devon behind me calming my mom down, promising her that he is looking after me. I pull away from Dad's grip to look at them, and she hugs him as well, saying, "I don't blame you, son. These things happen."

His face twitches when she calls him 'son.'

Devon's eyes find mine, and he gives me a sad smile. "You two must be exhausted. I've arranged your room," Mom says, pulling away from Devon, and Dad hands her a tissue, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they head to the living room.

"Does your dad own a gun by any chance? Do I need to buy a shield or something?" Devon asks, stroking his jaw. I shove him by the shoulder playfully, but he grabs my waist, pulling my body against his. He kisses the top of my head.

"Evelina! Devon!" Mom calls for us.

"Come on, let's go," I take his hand and lead him to the living room. As we sit on the couch, I notice that he puts a gap between us for some reason. I hate the space between us. Back at our home, I'm always on his lap or we'd be cuddling.

"Tell me, how's the shop going?" Mom asks, breaking my thoughts. Dad makes a face when she mentions the shop, and Devon shoots him a glare.

"It's going well. I've got many custom orders, and we are preparing a winter collection for Paris Winter Fashion Week," I respond, trying to keep things light.

"That's lovely. You should show me the designs," Mom suggests, a hint of pride evident in her voice.

"It always starts like that, dear. It'll go well in the beginning, and after a while, everyone is going to forget her brand," Dad interjects, his eyes still focused on his tablet.

"Kevin! Don't say that to the girl. Don't ruin her dreams," Mom scolds, coming to my defense.

"I'm being honest here. She should've stuck with her business degree and stepped up to help me," Dad fires back, his tone cutting.

"Dad, I'm doing what I've always wanted to do, and I'm happy," I assert, feeling a surge of defiance.

"Good for you. I, on the other hand, need to give all of this to someone worthy. I wanted to give it to you, my only child. Who is going to inherit this?" Dad says, hitting a nerve.

"Of course, Mr. Camilli. I assure you that your company will be safe until--" Devon's voice falters, and he clears his throat, uneasy.

"Don't say it. Don't say it!" I think to myself, praying for him to remain silent.

"Until Eve and I are blessed with children who'll inherit both our companies," Devon blurts out, unintentionally making a promise that shouldn't have been made.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath, squeezing his hand hard in frustration.

Dad's response is cutting, "You've said the same thing about keeping my daughter safe, and look what happened to her."

"Dad!" I stand up, unable to contain my emotions any longer. Devon tries to tug me back, but I shrug off his touch.

"No! Let me talk," I demand, my voice trembling with pent-up anger.

"It's not his fault I was attacked. I get that you are upset, but you are not taking your anger out on him," I defend Devon, feeling a mixture of protectiveness and resentment.

Dad's eyes narrow with the same steely determination I remember from my teenage years. He gets up, scrunching his nose in disdain, "I'll go out for a smoke."

Mom looks flustered and embarrassed, "I don't know what's gotten into him today. You two can go rest."

"Let's go, I'll lead the way," I tell Devon, my voice strained with unspoken anger. He obliges and follows me to my old bedroom, where the air crackles with tension. I lock the door behind us, our belongings neatly arranged, serving as silent witnesses to the brewing storm.

Devon sits on the edge of the bed, a distant look in his eyes. I join him, seething with resentment. "I'm so mad at you right now," I declare, my words heavy with accusation.

"Mad at me? Whatever for?" he responds, his tone betraying a hint of defensiveness.

"How can you make such a promise to my parents? You knew that we will never have children. What the hell is wrong with you?" I lash out, the weight of his actions bearing down on me.

As he brushes off my concerns, continuing to unbutton his shirt, I feel my anger escalate. "I shouldn't have expected more from you. You're just a spoiled, incompetent fool," I seethe, my frustration boiling over.

His dismissive demeanor pushes me over the edge. I follow him to the bathroom, feeling the need to confront him. As he closes the door in my face, shutting me out, a surge of raw emotion consumes me. I grab an object near me and hurl it at the door, the impact echoing through the room.

"I hate you! I regret this arranged marriage, every moment spent with you!" I scream, the words laced with venom and regret. "No wonder you've been so lonely all these years before me. You're nothing but a coward and a liar!"

The door stands as a barrier between us, mirroring the growing divide in our relationship. I sink to the floor, the weight of my outburst settling on my shoulders. Regret creeps in as I realize the depth of my own childish behavior.

Devon emerges from the bathroom, his face a mask of controlled anger. "You think this is easy for me? Do you have any idea what it's like to live in constant fear of losing you?"

I meet his gaze, my own anger faltering. "Devon, I..."

"No, let me finish," he cuts me off, stepping closer. "I made that promise because I want a future with you. Because I see a life beyond this arrangement, and I thought you did too."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. "I... I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't, because you never asked," he retorts, his voice tinged with bitterness. "You just assumed I was the same as every other man who came before me."

He takes a step back, his expression hardening again. "Stop acting like a child, Evelina. We're in this together, and you can't blame me for being cornered. This isn't easy for me either."

I attempt to say something, but he silences me with a raised hand. "I don't want to hear it right now. Just... go to bed."

Devon moves to the couch, pulling a blanket over himself, leaving me standing there feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. I crawl into bed, the space between us feeling like a chasm I don't know how to bridge. As I lie there, staring at the ceiling, I can't help but wonder how we got to this point.

The night stretches on, the silence between us louder than any argument. Eventually, I drift into an uneasy sleep, haunted by the words left unsaid and the growing distance between us.