𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒

“I never meant to hurt you,” Roux whispered, barely audible. “I didn’t know you were there, and I never wanted you to see that.”

“I’m so confused, Roux,” I finally managed to say what I’m feeling. “I don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Roux slightly pulled back, his hands were gently cupping my tear-stained face. “I understand,” he said, his eyes searching mine for any sign of understanding.

I didn’t know how to respond. My feelings were a tangled web of emotions, and I didn’t have all the answers. In that moment, I knew I needed to sort through my heartache and the whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed me.

“I need some time,” I whispered, my voice’s barely above a whisper.

Roux nodded. “Take all the time you need, Teagan. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk.”

—

Several days had passed since I had witnessed Roux’s intimate moment with another woman. The confusion and hurt still lingered within me, making it difficult to find the right words to address this situation.

Every time I saw Roux at the office, our interactions were polite but strained. We exchanged only the necessary words, our once easy camaraderie, now overshadowed by an unspoken tension.

I found myself lost in thoughts more often than not, replaying that night over and over, trying to make sense of my emotions. I had always valued my friendship with Roux, and the sudden urge of jealousy had taken me by surprise.

As I was engrossed in work, a knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I looked up to see Bartholomew standing there, his warm smile offering a sense of comfort.

“Mind if I come in?” Bartholomew asked in a gentle way.

I shook my head, inviting him inside. He sat across me, it’s the seat where Roux used to be whenever we’d have lunch in the office together.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been a bit distant to Roux lately,” Bartholomew began, his tone’s compassionate. “Is everything okay?”

I heaved out a deep sigh, my shoulders slumping as I confessed. “I’m just... confused, Bartholomew.”

He leaned forward, his eyes full of empathy. “Is this about what you saw that night?”

I nodded, my gaze dropping to my hands. “I don’t really understand why it affected me so much,” I admitted. “Roux and I are friends, I shouldn’t feel this way.”

Bartholomew gave me a reassuring smile. “Feelings can be complicated, Teagan,” He said. “Sometimes, they don’t follow logic, and that’s okay.”

I heaved out a sigh. “I just don’t know how to face Roux about it,”

Bartholomew reached out and placed his comforting hands on mine. “Take your time,” He gently said.

“I just wish my feelings weren’t confusing,” I said.

“Confusion is a part of life,” He said. “It’s also an opportunity to explore deeper parts of ourselves. When things are unclear, it means there’s something within us that we need to understand better.”

“What should I do?”

“Start by being honest with yourself, Teagan,” He advised. “Take the time to explore your feelings, acknowledge them without judgment, and when you’re ready, have that conversation with Roux.”

—

In the tranquil ambiance of a nearby café, I sat across from Bartholomew. The soft murmur of conversations and the aroma of coffee filling the air.

I had sought out Bartholomew’s guidance once again, needing his wisdom as I navigate the intricate maze of my emotions.

“Teagan,” He began playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Can I ask you a question?”

I looked up, intrigued by the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sure,” I replied with a quirked eyebrow.

Bartholomew grinned widely as he leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you, by any chance, find your esteemed Dacre quite intriguing?”

My cheeks tinged with a faint blush, and I hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the question. “Well,” I began. “I find him to be... interesting, yes.”

Bartholomew’s chuckle danced in the air, and he leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Ah, intriguing and interesting,” He mused. “Those are two words that often lead to a much deeper sentiment, don’t you think?”

My gaze dropped to my coffee, my fingers tracing the rim as I contemplated my answer. “Perhaps,” I admitted, a hint of uncertainty in my voice.

Bartholomew’s playful demeanor shifted slightly as he leaned forward again. “What about Roux?” He asked, his voice’s softer now, tinged with a hint of seriousness.

My brows furrowed, my thoughts momentarily thrown into disarray. “Roux?” I repeated, caught off guard by the question.

Bartholomew nodded, his gaze fixed on mine. “Yes, Roux.”

My lips parted, and I felt a pang of confusion. I hesitated, my gaze searching Bartholomew’s face for any hint of his intentions. “I... I don’t know.” I admitted.

Bartholomew leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression was evident on his face. “Teagan,” He said gently. “Allow me to share a story.”

—

“Once, in a land of eternal sunsets, there lived a curious young woman who found herself caught between two flames.”

My brows furrowed as I listened, intrigued by his words but uncertain of their meaning.

“The first flame was a blazing fire, fierce and captivating,” He continued, his eyes glinting with a hidden meaning. “It beckoned her with its intensity, promising a warmth that could consume her very being.”

My mind raced, trying to unravel the metaphor that Bartholomew was weaving.

“The second flame was a gentle ember,” He went on, his voice softening. “It held a subtle charm, a promise of a steady glow that could comfort her through the coldest of nights.”

I felt a mixture of confusion and curiosity, the enigmatic tale drawing me in.

“The young woman,” Bartholomew continued. “Found herself torn between the allure of the blazing fire and the soothing embrace of the ember. Each had its own beauty, its own draw.”

My gaze remained fixed on Bartholomew, my thoughts whirling as I attempted to decipher the meaning behind his words.

Bartholomew’s smile remained enigmatic as he concluded. “But, you see, my dear Teagan, sometimes playing with fire doesn’t lead to warmth, but rather to a scorching lesson. In the end, it’s not the flames that define us, but the choices that we make amidst their dance.”

My eyes widened, realization drawing upon me. “Metaphorically speaking,” I ventured cautiously. “You’re advising me not to get caught up in the middle of conflicting emotions?”

Bartholomew’s smile deepened, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Indeed,” He confirmed, his voice holding a touch of mystery. “Emotions can be as unpredictable as flames. It’s wise to approach them with caution, and to remember that every choice has consequences.”

TO BE CONTINUED.