GLASS HEARTS

VV. Hate?

𝔖𝔖𝔖𝔖
                                  Abrar

Well I've had enough of people today.

First it was the nauseating romance actors, then that weird guy in the parking lot, my sick annoying fiancé and now this man, calling me a Mrs before I've even decided whether or not I'll be going forward with tying the knot.

Or did this himar tell him we're already married? I just want to squeeze his neck, and almost drain the life out of him, but I doubt my hands can fully wrap around his neck,

My eyes fly to access the size of his neck but instead they clash with those light brown orbs and I feel something silly drop in my stomach, what the hell is that? Hate?.

I take my eyes away from him, but my ears are with them, listening to everything even if I don't understand a word they're uttering,

How the hell didn't I know he speaks French, and why is he so fucking good at it?

Did he learn how to speak? How is he so fluent, wait what exactly is even his ethnicity, Oh my lord I'm just realizing I don't know anything about my dear fiancé, Pun intended.

Totally ignoring their existence, I walk towards the imposing front door, my heart raced with a mix of anticipation and apprehension, I just appreciate beautiful things, and no one likes looking at new houses more than me.

The echoes of their brief exchange in a foreign language lingers in the air leaving me with more questions than answers. With each step, I felt the weight of uncertainty pressing down on my shoulders,

I just can't shake the feeling that their conversation is now about me, they seem to be familiar with each other. I wouldn't care normally but the fact that I can't understand what they say makes me... I don't know the word, wary.

As I turned the handle of the majestic door, a flood of warm sunlight poured into the opulent foyer, illuminating the intricate marble floors and gilded accents that adorned the walls.

Wow.

The air was filled with the delicate fragrance of fresh flowers, hinting at the meticulous care that went into every detail of the magnificent estate.

Stepping inside, I was greeted by the sight of soaring ceilings and expansive windows that offered panoramic views of lush gardens and sparkling fountains.

I went to the other corner of the building and every room I passed through exuded elegance and charm, each corner a testament to the impeccable craftsmanship that created this architectural marvel.

If not because of my pride and self control, my jaw would have been sweeping up the ground because of this beauty. I've seen and lived in wealth, but this one is different, not because of the size of the house rather the beauty of the decor itself.

My footsteps echoed softly on the polished floors as I explored the splendor of the house, each room revealing a new facet of its beauty and grandeur. With each passing moment, I felt a sense of awe and wonder wash over me, realizing that I was not just in a house but in a living masterpiece.

"You like it," his gruff, confident voice floats in the room in what seems like an observation rather than a question, which—by the way, is among the top three things I hate about him.

"Not bad." I say, my voice dripping with nonchalance, even though deep down I know it's feigned, he probably knows it too.

Turning around, not realizing how close we stood next to each other before he moved forward away from me, the man from before, nowhere to be seen.