Pain And Pleasure 18+✓

Fifty-four

As the silence becomes intolerable I roll over and face Adrian lying on his back, arms folded under his head. We're so close but very distant, and every single minute that passes feels like a slow, agonizing cut of a thin cord embedded between us.

It leaves me hanging, ignorant of where I truly belong. It leaves me homeless.

"Adrian, I..." I inhale a breath and his eyes indulge me with attention. "You were looking for someone regarding the bidding; I recall you mentioning that a few days ago. Have you located him?"

I can't see anything else to discuss with him, hence business it is. A wrinkle forms on his forehead as he heaves a deep sigh, careful of his word choice as always.

Unfortunately, no. By the tone of his voice, he is still thwarted by the failure.

"Won't that ruin your chances?" I stare deeply into his eyes, the bedside lamps as the only source of light glowing weakly in the room.

"Maybe it would," he says simply. "But there's always a backup plan, so you shouldn't be invested in that."

And what should I invest myself into if I'm not even sure of what I'm doing in this bed right now? It's crazy. I've gone crazy. It's as if I'm searching for a perfect closure not to grieve from losing him in a few hours to come.

Maybe that's it. A closure.

I pull the duvet, sinking in its warmth, and drift in thoughts. I wonder if this is the end. Are we gonna remain friends who can call each other from time to time, or is he gonna ghost me for good? I can't even imagine.

Whatever will be, will be.

"What are you thinking of?" he suddenly asks, surrounding me with his strong gentleness.

He's still a one-in-a-million.

"Nothing. I should go to sleep. I have classes in the morning and a few things to take care of," I say and roll back to my side, letting my back face him sullenly.

The void resembling a hollow in my heart invades my happiness. The compilation of pleasure he's given me throughout our engagement becomes a very bitter pain that increases as every second of the clock ticks.

His body brushes against mine, all in the process of turning off my bedside lamp. The fragrance of lemon body wash mingles with the musky and woodsy scent of his cologne, reminding me of his scent that I perfectly recognize now.

Lights go off and he edges back. I swallow tightly, freeing my held breath. Even now he still makes me weak when our bodies touch. What has done to me? I still want to be in his arms, to lay my head on his chest and sleep by his side.

But what about him?

The moment I roll over, he scoots me into an embrace. Heat spreads on my body and easily I relax by his side. Safe-he makes me feel safe. As if my life depends on it, I hug him tightly and shut my eyes, wishing for the impossible.

"Goodnight, Arabella." He kisses my hair, the way a loving husband would to her dearest wife.

A twinge of irony makes me snort a laugh.

"Why do you have to leave if you're this sweet to me?" I blurt out about five minutes later, unable to take it maturely. "Can't you stay here? Do you really have to go?"

What the fuck am I doing?

I hear his breath thickening as he replies, "I have to. I must."

"Exactly—why?" I nearly snap.

"Because I don't belong here, Arabella. I'm not the kind of a person you'd want to be close to if you knew the things I've done and the kind of people I'm associated with," he states.