The evening unfolded with the anticipation of a company dinner, the air thick with the promise of camaraderie and celebration. Despite my reservations about social gatherings, I acquiesced to attend, if only to maintain appearances amongst my colleagues. Stepping into the restaurant, the cacophony of conversations and clinking glasses engulfed me, intermingled with the enticing aroma of food wafting from the kitchen.
Amidst the sea of familiar faces and warm welcomes, my attention inevitably gravitated toward him—the new boss—commanding attention at the head of the table with an effortless poise. Suppressing the unease creeping over me, I settled into my seat, striving to deflect his scrutinizing gaze with a polite nod and a forced smile.
As the night progressed, libations flowed freely, and I found myself partaking more than usual, the alcohol serving as a temporary salve for the underlying tension. With each sip, reality began to blur into a hazy illusion, and an unsettling feeling lingered at the periphery of my consciousness.
He approached, his confident stride and piercing gaze cutting through the din of the lively atmosphere. "Layla," he murmured, his voice tinged with amusement as he leaned in closer. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."
Despite the slight slur in my speech, I managed to maintain a façade of composure. "Yes, it's been a... pleasant evening," I replied, the words escaping with a hint of hesitation.
His concern was palpable as he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "But perhaps you've had enough," he suggested, his tone laced with genuine concern. "Wouldn't want you to make a fool of yourself in front of your colleagues."
My cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and defiance as I bristled at his words, the alcohol impeding my ability to filter my response. "I can handle myself just fine, thank you," I retorted, a hint of defiance creeping into my tone.
He chuckled softly, his eyes holding a knowing glint. "Of course you can," he conceded before straightening up and stepping away, leaving me to ponder his cryptic warning.
As I stumbled out of the restaurant, the cool night air offered a fleeting respite from the stifling atmosphere within. Suddenly, he materialized beside me, his presence both unexpected and strangely comforting.
"Wait!" he called out, his voice cutting through the fog of my thoughts. "Let me take you home."
I hesitated, my mind still reeling from the evening's events, but something about his offer felt right. I nodded in silent gratitude, leaning on him for support as we navigated the dimly lit streets.
Upon reaching my apartment, he guided me inside with gentle hands, his touch reassuring against my skin. Sensing my weariness, he quietly assisted me in changing into my sleeping attire, his actions considerate and deliberate.
He led me to bed, tucking me in with a tenderness that caught me off guard. As I began to succumb to exhaustion, he remained by my side, a silent presence offering solace in the darkness.
"Layla," he said softly, pulling me from the brink of sleep. "Can I ask you a few questions?"
I nodded, sitting up to meet his gaze, surprised by the intensity of his scrutiny.
"Did you dream last night?" he inquired urgently, his eyes searching mine for answers.
I blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. "Um, yes, I think so," I replied, uncertain. "But it's all a bit fuzzy now. I can't quite recall."
He nodded, his expression inscrutable. "And when you do dream, is it always the same?"
I furrowed my brow, struggling to remember. "Yes, I'm pretty sure it's always the same," I confessed.
"And what happens in this dream?" he pressed, desperate for details.
I hesitated, feeling a surge of exhaustion wash over me. "Well, there's this incredibly handsome guy, and I'm let into his house by a lovely lady. Then we sit by the fireplace, and..." I trailed off, sinking back into bed. "Why do you want to know all this?"
He regarded me thoughtfully before standing. "I can't disclose everything right now," he said regretfully. "But thank you for your answers. Get some rest, Layla."
With that, he exited the room, leaving me to grapple with unanswered questions. As I drifted into sleep, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his inquiries, leaving me wondering about the mysteries he held and the enigmatic connection I felt with him.
YOU ARE READING
Mister Blurry Face
RomanceNight after night, Layla meets a mysterious stranger in her dreams, their bond growing deeper each time. But there is one thing: his face is always blurred, leaving her yearning for answers. As their connection strengthens and his features gradually...
