FATE - can a person in one lifetime fall in love with the same person twice?

Chapter 31

It’s been one month. My injury has healed, as it wasn’t very deep.

Eden hasn’t come into my room since that night. The next day, he acted like nothing had happened, so I guess it was fine. Besides, we aren’t a real couple anyway. It’s been three weeks since he left for a business trip. I've been spending a lot of time in my room, thinking about my book and trying to figure out how to end the story. No matter how much I think, I can’t seem to come up with a satisfying conclusion.

It was already past two in the morning, so I decided to take a shower and get some sleep. Still preoccupied with thoughts about my book, I walked into the closet and opened the cupboard to grab my pajamas. But instead of my side, I had opened Eden’s. I sighed, realizing how lost in thought I’d been that I hadn’t even noticed.

My eyes fell on something inside his cupboard: the white button-down shirt—the same one he wore on the balcony and that night. I took it out and brought it to my nose. His scent clung to the fabric, and just that familiar fragrance was enough to send butterflies fluttering in my stomach and a shiver down my spine.

Before I knew it, I had already taken a shower and was wearing his shirt. It was so comfortable. I didn’t bother with shorts, just my lingerie underneath. The shirt hung down to my mid-thigh, so it was fine. I looked at myself in the mirror; the shirt was far too big for me. My black bra was visible beneath the thin white fabric, and the shirt kept slipping off my shoulder—but I liked it that way.

“I kinda miss him,” I muttered to myself, then immediately realized what I had just said.

No… no... it’s just attachment, I reassured myself. Living in the same house can make anyone feel this way. I pushed all those thoughts aside, climbed into bed, and was about to switch off the light when the door to my room opened.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Just got back, thanks for asking,” he replied.

“In my room?” I pressed again.

“I came here to grab my clothes...” he said, his gaze shifting to me mid-sentence.

He raised an eyebrow, and I followed his eyes to see what he was looking at. My jaw dropped. I was wearing his shirt. Oh my God, I’m doomed. I looked from him to the shirt and back to him again.

“Missed me, huh?” he smirked. “Wearing my shirt.”

“No,” I shot back, scrambling for an excuse. “I... I just wanted to wear something comfortable, so I put it on.”

“Take it off,” he said in a serious tone.

“What?”

“I said, take it off,” he repeated.

“Okay!” I replied, about to get off the bed, but he cut me off.

“Right now,” he said, his voice devoid of any politeness.

“Let me at least go to the bathroom—” I began, but he interrupted again.

“Right now,” he insisted. “You’ll take forever. You’ll go into the closet, grab your things, and then head to the bathroom. I don’t have all night.” He crossed his arms over his chest. I stared at him, blinking, trying to process what he was saying. Was he drunk?

“Do it now, or I’ll remove it myself,” he warned, taking a few steps toward me.

“Wait... wait!” I clutched the shirt in my fists. “One minute.”

“Okay,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “Your time starts now.”

I looked around frantically. I knew I couldn’t escape—he’d catch me, and this time, I wouldn’t be able to talk my way out of it. There was no way I could take this shirt off in front of him. My eyes fell on the quilt. Quickly, I grabbed it and pulled it over my head, covering myself in a sitting position. I yanked off the shirt as fast as I could, keeping myself wrapped in the quilt. With one hand still clutching the quilt around me, I stuck my head out and then tossed the shirt in his direction, aiming right for his face.