reverie / hs

4

As the aroma of breakfast filled the cozy kitchen, Harry hummed softly to himself, moving with practiced ease between the stove and the countertops. The sound of sizzling bacon and the clinking of utensils against pans created a comforting rhythm that seemed to anchor me in this surreal moment. It was like a scene from a dream, but it felt so real. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living through a scene from a movie I couldn't quite remember.

I watched him, still grappling with the disorienting blend of familiarity and confusion that enveloped me. 

Every gesture, every word from Harry hinted at a shared history that my mind struggled to piece together. He was so kind, so considerate, so familiar. But I couldn't place him. The fear that had been lurking beneath the surface started to bubble up.

"Here we go," Harry announced, placing a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and crispy bacon in front of me. "I hope you like it."

I smiled gratefully, the warmth of his hospitality easing the knots of uncertainty in my stomach. "Thank you, Harry. It looks delicious." It's like he's reading my mind. He was so kind. But I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. There was a sense of unease that I couldn't ignore.

He returned my smile, taking a seat across from me at the small table. "Dig in. It'll make you feel better," he said gently, his eyes never leaving mine as if trying to reassure me with his unwavering presence. I should just trust him. He seemed so genuine. But how could I? I didn't even know who he was!

The first bite of eggs was surprisingly comforting, the flavors awakening my senses and grounding me in the present moment. Harry watched me eat with a quiet satisfaction, his green eyes flickering with a mixture of concern and tenderness.  

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing undercurrent in the morning stillness.

I paused, considering his question as I chewed thoughtfully. 

"Better," I admitted, surprised by the truth in my words. Despite the lingering confusion, Harry's presence seemed to offer a refuge—a sanctuary from the uncertainties that plagued me. Maybe it's the food. Maybe it's his kindness.

He nodded approvingly, a hint of relief crossing his features. "I'm glad to hear that. You should take it easy today. Maybe a nap would help."

I nodded in agreement, the idea of resting in this comforting environment appealing more than I cared to admit. "That sounds like a good idea," I murmured, setting down my fork with a sigh.

Harry rose from his seat, moving around the table to stand beside me. "Let's get you back to bed," he suggested gently, his hand extended to help me up.

I took his hand, feeling a rush of gratitude for his steadying presence. Together, we walked down the hallway lined with framed photographs and soft lighting that bathed the space in a warm glow. This house is so beautiful. It's so peaceful. But it's not mine. And that's what makes it so scary.

The bedroom door opened to reveal a serene sanctuary—soft hues of cream and pale blue, with sunlight streaming through sheer curtains. The bed beckoned invitingly, a haven of comfort amid the uncertainty that clouded my mind. This bed is so comfortable. It's like I'm being lulled into a false sense of security.

Harry guided me to the bed, tucking the sheets around me with a tenderness that stirred something deep within me—a longing for the peace and security his touch seemed to promise. I don't know what to do. I'm so scared, but I don't want to hurt his feelings. I don't want to scare him away.

"Rest now, Elena," he murmured, brushing a gentle kiss on my forehead. "I'll be right here if you need anything."  

I nodded sleepily, my eyelids growing heavy with each passing moment. As I drifted into a gentle slumber, Harry's presence lingered like a soothing melody, offering solace in the midst of unanswered questions. I can't stop thinking about this. Who is this man? Why do I feel so drawn to him, yet so scared of him at the same time? The questions swam in my head, along with the images of the photos and the warmth of Harry's touch.