(The vampire duology pt 1) The undead romance

Chapter 5:- Heat waves in winter

I gazed up at the ceiling from beneath the water of my tub, the distorted ripples turning everything into a surreal painting. There's something about the water that makes me feel safe, as if I'm wrapped in a blanket of nothingness where sounds are muffled, reality is bent out of shape, and the line between life and death becomes a shimmering blur. It's beautiful, in that eerie, deadly way that lures you ever closer, ever deeper, like a siren's song with a sharp edge.

I tried to recall what happened this morning, but my memory felt like a badly scrambled egg. I remember the anger, the shame, and that awful sensation of being a naked child with all eyes on me, stripped of every defense. I remember wanting to kill, though I can't quite grasp why. There was a woman—I recall leaping at her, fury coursing through me, but for the life of me, I can't remember what she said to ignite that rage. Did I overreact? Did I make a fool of myself? My thoughts were tangled, and all I could grasp was this: I have no memory of deciding to do any of it, nor of how I ended up here, in this tub, as if I had been born beneath the water this very moment.

Then, a knock echoed from outside, jerking me out of my thoughts. I sprang up, water sloshing around me, trying to remember if I had invited anyone over. David's voice, low and concerned, drifted through the door. "Anne, are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm coming out now!" I scrambled out of the tub, dressing quickly as my head spun.

When I finally emerged, David was lounging on my sofa, his presence too large for the room. The place seemed to shrink around him, his elegant suit and polished shoes clashing with the cozy disarray of my living room. When did he change into that? Last I saw, he was wearing running shoes, a polo t-shirt and shorts. "Wait a minute... have we slept together or something?" I took a step back, my gaze darting around the room like a trapped animal. Panic gnawed at the edges of my thoughts.

"What?" He looked at me, bewildered, then grinned as if I was joking, but the humor evaporated when he saw the terror in my eyes. "You don't remember what happened?" he asked, standing and walking toward me.

"I... No. I mean, yes, I remember Margot, I remember screaming, but I don't remember why. I don't remember how I got here. It's like my brain just... went blank." Then, horror crept in as I realized David was my client. He saw me screaming, kicking, losing it like a maniac. Shit, shit, shit. I took a deep breath, struggling to keep my voice steady. "Please, don't tell Josh about today. I swear it won't happen again. If you're uncomfortable working with me, I understand. I can recommend someone else to take over the project—"

He cut me off by pulling me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me like a safety net. My brain short-circuited as I leaned into his chest and cried—sobbing like a child, not even sure why. "It must've been so hard, being alone all this time, facing everything by yourself," he murmured, his voice vibrating through his chest into mine. He cupped my face in his hands, his eyes locking onto mine. "No one will take this project but you, Anne. You're a talented designer, and I won't work with anyone else."

Our eyes met, and somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice screamed that this wasn't right. I'd only met this man three times, and now here I was, crumpled in his arms, crying for the first time in front of another human being. "Can you hug me just one more time?" I whispered, and he did, holding me tight, as if trying to keep reality at bay for just a second longer, a second that stretched into forever.

We drove in silence, the kind of silence that feels like a thick fog, pressing in on all sides. My cheeks heated like a schoolgirl's, embarrassed by the intimacy of a mere hug. It was just a friendly hug, I told myself. You're his charity case or something. Don't fall in love, don't stalk his social media, and for God's sake, don't become obsessed just because he hugged you, Anne. I reached for the radio, hoping to fill the void with music, but he turned it off with a flick of his wrist.