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P.O.V Angelina (❗️mature content❗️)
Ivan and I were gradually easing back into our usual camaraderie, and it brought a sense of joy to my day. However, our moment of comfort was short-lived as work beckoned Ivan away, necessitating his early departure.
Observing Angelo's absence, I decided to go back to the familiar sanctuary of Nicolas' room, since there was nothing to do.
I sat on his bed and thought about everything. Anya, Vikor what he must've told her if she found out I was missing.
I really wished Vikor had come save me earlier because now I feel like I was falling back into their trap, or -let's be nice, but don't forget our plan- thing, and I really didn't want to.
My head was bombarded with thoughts of us. If I knew it was going to hurt this much, I wish I'd never laid eyes on him.
Getting up, I made my way to the bathroom, feeling the need to refresh my senses. I reached for the faucet, letting the cold water flow over my hands before splashing it onto my face, the cool sensation easing my frayed nerves.
Grabbing a soft face cloth, I gently patted my skin dry, only to be startled by the unexpected sight of Nicolas' reflection in the mirror, sending a sudden jolt of surprise through me.
"What the hell. You scared me." I exclaimed, setting the face cloth aside in response to the unexpected startle.
"Sorry about that, just thought I'd come check up on you," he mentioned as he shut the door, leaving us enclosed in the room together.
Well this was a new excuse. Normally it was 'I came to make sure you took your medication' but that wasn't an option anymore.
"Oh, well, I'm just... sort of..." I stammered, "bored I guess," I shrug, my mind racing to find a plausible excuse.
As I fumbled for words, he casually approached, trapping me by the sink.
My heart rate dropped, and I couldn't shake off how he still managed to stir up emotions within me even after all this time, and it irritates me, a lot.
"Why can't you forgive me, svetlyak." he uttered, locking eyes with me through the reflection in the mirror.
I turned to face him, our eyes meeting, and softly replied, "I have forgiven you." His expression shifted, a mix of confusion and surprise evident on his face.
"You have?" he questioned, his voice tinged with disbelief. His eyes searched mine for confirmation, seeking reassurance in my words.
"Yes," I admitted, "I just don't know if I trust you."
Nicolas's left hand wrapped around my waist, while his right hand firmly held my chin, his touch burning against my skin.
"Why don't you trust me?" he inquired, his hand maintaining its grip on my chin, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.
