I Too Had An Unrequited Love Story

39- The Space Between

Veronica carried Natalie into her room, the little girl still shaken by Arek's outburst. Natalie's tears flowed steadily, her small body trembling in Veronica's arms.

"Shh, Buba, it's alright," Veronica cooed softly, trying to soothe her. She gently tossed Natalie into the air, catching her in her arms. The sudden lift made Natalie squeal in surprise, and within moments, her sobs gave way to giggles. Veronica repeated the playful motion a few more times until Natalie's teary eyes began to droop with the weight of sleep.

It was well past Natalie's bedtime, and Veronica could see her fighting to keep her eyes open. Thankfully, dinner had already been dealt with before the drama downstairs with Arek and Austin. Gently, she placed Natalie in her bed, watching as the little girl curled up on her left side. Veronica sat beside her, patting her back rhythmically until Natalie's breathing evened out and she drifted into a peaceful slumber.

Veronica let out a deep sigh, feeling both relief and exhaustion. She was tired—bone tired—but her body refused to settle. The events of the evening lingered in her mind, swirling around like the storm that had just passed. She was hungry too, having barely eaten before everything had spiraled into chaos. But her hunger was secondary to the confusion and unease that gnawed at her from within.

Her thoughts, inevitably, circled back to Arek. The way he had lost control with Austin was unlike anything she had seen before. Normally, Arek was cold and composed, his emotions carefully guarded behind a wall of indifference. But tonight, something in him had snapped. Veronica knew they had their fair share of arguments—sharp words and biting remarks had long been their language—but what she had witnessed today was different. There was something beneath the surface with Arek, something she didn't understand.

Her mind wandered further, back to the moment at the pool. His proximity had been unnerving, the feel of his breath against her skin, his arms tightening possessively around her waist. The sensation of being so close to him had left her breathless, and not just in a suffocating way. It was as though her body was reacting to something she didn't want to admit. She told herself it was discomfort, that it was the awkwardness of the situation—but there was more to it. Why had she felt so breathless? Why did her heart race when Arek was near, even though she swore she hated him with every fiber of her being?

She couldn't stand him. She knew that. And yet, whenever they were forced into close quarters—whether by circumstance or their strange, tangled arrangement—her body seemed to betray her. The memory of their bodies pressed together in the pool made her stomach flutter in a way she didn't understand, nor did she want to. His arms had held her as though it were the most natural thing in the world, as if her place was right there, anchored against him.

Veronica rubbed her temples as a dull ache began to build behind her eyes. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on these thoughts. It was all just a matter of proximity, of circumstance. There was no deeper meaning behind it. And yet, Arek's eyes... the way he had looked at her, locking his gaze with hers with such intensity—it unsettled her. In his eyes, there had been a flicker of something unreadable, an emotion that passed so fleetingly that she couldn't begin to decipher it. And as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished, leaving her grasping for understanding.

Arek was a mystery to her. At times, he could be so unexpectedly kind, stepping in to help her, saving her from one disaster or another. But then, in an instant, he would become cold, ruthless, as if he were an entirely different person. The contrast was jarring, and she couldn't make sense of which version of him was real. It was as if he wore different masks, shifting between personas. Yet she knew Arek wasn't suffering from any disorder—his actions were deliberate, calculated even. There was always more to him than what met the eye.