Burn Me Right

Chapter 82

Perched on her couch, she drummed her fingers nervously against the armrest, every clock tick echoing in her ears. The anticipation was an electric current coursing through her veins, setting her nerves alight. The scent of her carefully prepared lasagna permeated the air. Even the tantalizing aroma couldn't ease her mind, and her mind raced with doubts and worries, each passing moment intensifying her anxiousness as she waited for him to arrive.

The abrupt honk of the car jolted her from her swirling thoughts. She approached the door with hesitant steps, her heart pounding in sync with each footfall. Pausing at the entrance, she watched as he made his way to the door, her stomach tightening with anticipation. As he drew closer, a wave of solid alcohol scent hit her senses, thick and overpowering. Despite the intensity of the aroma, his movements showed no sign of drunkenness. His steps were steady, his gaze clear, leaving her puzzled by the contradiction between the smell and his composed demeanor.

He looked at her and walked towards his room without saying a word. Disappointment took over her, but she composed herself. "I made food. Take a shower and come down."

He glanced back over his shoulder, meeting her gaze with a mysterious look before ascending the stairs. Minutes ticked by in a blur as she waited, her nerves tingling with anticipation. Then, with surprising speed, he descended the staircase in his night pants and no shirt. His tattoos were shining in the moonlight. Oh, how much she missed touching him.

He cleared his throat, and she straightened herself. She served him steaming hot lasagna, and again, without a word, he dug his fork into the food, put a bite in his mouth, and stopped himself from moaning. The food was incredible. Autumn sat in the chair next to him. Summoning her courage, she asked, "How was your day?"

He closed his eyes as if he was trying hard not to respond to her, but he didn't. "Is everything okay at work?" She stared at him hopefully, but Zyler finished his food in minutes and got up. Without looking at her, he ran up the steps.

Autumn's heart plummeted with disappointment. The once cozy atmosphere of the room shifted into a suffocating cloak of despair. Anger and frustration boiled inside her, clouding her thoughts and heightening her senses with an urgent prickling sensation. Leaving the plate in the sink, she climbed the stairs with determined steps, her footsteps echoing in the quiet house.

Entering his room, she was met with a heavy atmosphere thick with the acrid scent of cigarette smoke and the overpowering odor of alcohol. The air felt dense, charged with a palpable tension that seemed to seep into every corner, casting shadows and obscuring her view. Smoke curled lazily in the dim light, swirling in unpredictable patterns that obscured her vision, turning the room into a murky labyrinth.

Struggling to see through the haze, Autumn squinted, her eyes stinging as she searched for him in the swirling fog. The weight of the air pressed against her skin, bearing down on her with an almost tangible force that threatened to crush her spirits. Despite her efforts, she felt disoriented, her movements slow and hesitant as she navigated through the dense atmosphere, her senses overwhelmed by the oppressive gloom of the room.

Coughing and spluttering, she hurriedly flicked the exhaust fan switch, the whirring noise cutting through the thick haze of smoke. As the swirling clouds dissipated, revealing the scene before her, her breath caught in her throat.

There he stood, his muscular back turned toward her, a cigarette dangling casually from his right hand and a bottle of alcohol gripped firmly in his left. The dim light cast ominous shadows across his form, emphasizing the tense set of his shoulders and the imposing aura he exuded. Despite the moment's chaos, he remained an imposing figure, symbolizing strength and defiance among the swirling smoke and uncertainty.