Immigrant girl

Chapter 38. Anya.

I always enjoyed folding clean clothes into neat piles. You know, corner to corner. It had a calming effect on me. That's exactly what I was doing at the moment. Today's events hadn't gone as planned at all. And it had all started so well. Mark. The kiss. The hike. The ocean. Why did everything turn into a complete mess again? I tried my hardest not to think about what I saw in Alex's office and what happened afterward. I also tried not to think about Caleb kissing me. I continued folding clothes meticulously.

My phone was silent. No calls from Caleb, Alex, or, much to my disappointment, Mark. I hoped they hadn't killed each other. I should've been happy to have a quiet evening for once, but for some reason, the calmness made me uneasy.

After finishing all my household chores, I noticed it was already night, and the clock showed 11:30. In half an hour, the coffee shop would close, so I could still dash over and get a hot chocolate, which I felt I deserved. Quickly dressing, I ran out of the house, not noticing the black sedan with dirty plates parked by my building.

When I burst into the coffee shop, I caught my breath and, to my surprise, noticed a small queue. At this hour? Apparently, I wasn't the only one with an acute need for my favorite drink. With my hot chocolate in hand, I slowly headed home. I enjoyed the cool night air and the silence. As I approached the house, I saw Mark sitting on the steps. Of course, my peace couldn't last long.

"What are you doing here?" I asked curtly as I approached the entrance. Mark lifted his head, and I saw a medical strip on his nose. His emerald eyes flashed, and my heart fluttered.

"I came to beg for forgiveness," he said, looking straight at me.

"Can it wait until tomorrow? I'd like to end this day without more drama." Mark slowly stood up and came closer.

"I'm afraid I can't make it through the night without your forgiveness." He smiled sadly and took my hand. "I'm sorry. I behaved poorly. I heard his voice, saw him holding your hand, and with his remarks, I just lost it." Mark looked at our hands, gently tracing circles on my palm with his thumb. "This has never happened to me before. I'm usually very composed in such situations." He gave me a quick glance from under his thick black lashes. "Will you forgive me?"

"Mark, I want you to understand that my life is already difficult enough. I'm tired of the constant drama. I just want peace." I sighed heavily. "We're not even officially in a relationship, and you're already putting me through such unpleasant moments."

"Do you want it to be official?" he asked hopefully. I froze, pondering. Did I want that? Alex had clearly shown today that he had moved on, so why should I hold myself back? Mark was reliable, kind, handsome, and honest. An FBI agent, not a mobster with darkness and death in his wake.

"I do," I replied, watching his face. Mark closed his eyes, exhaled loudly, and, pulling me by the hand, hugged me tightly.

"Thank God," he murmured into my neck. "I was so afraid you'd say 'no,' so afraid you'd send me away." He pulled back, looked into my eyes, and said, "You've made me a very happy man."

"In return, I hope to become a very happy woman," I laughed softly. I was glad, but why did it feel like something had broken inside me?