In a world where everything seems perfectly logical and pragmatic. The thought of anything existing outside of the realm of what one already knows seems impractical.
That is how Melinda Morrison sees life.
The very life where she has shared nearly e...
The garden was quiet, save for the hum of cicadas and the soft trickle of water from the pond. Zorion's voice, low and hesitant, cut through the serene night.
"I didn't mean to intrude on your evening, Chandrelle," He said softly, his eyes downcast.
I studied him momentarily, noting how his usual confidence was replaced with something far more fragile. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and there was a nervous energy in the way he glanced at me and then away, as if he feared my response.
"You didn't intrude," I replied, keeping my tone gentle. "But I didn't expect to see you tonight."
He nodded, his gaze fixed somewhere near my shoes. "I know. I... I shouldn't have come unannounced. I just—" He faltered, running a hand through his hair. "Can we take a walk? I think better when I'm moving."
Without a word, I turned and led him along the stone path through the garden. The moonlight bathed the flowers in a soft glow, and the cool night air felt refreshing against my skin. Zorion walked beside me, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.
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Minutes passed in tense silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant sound of the wind chime near the estate's veranda. I wanted to ask him why he had come, but I didn't want to push. It was Zorion who finally broke the quiet.
"I'm sorry," He said abruptly.
I glanced at him, my brow furrowing. "For what?"
"For everything," He blurted. "For showing up tonight like this. For the way my parents behaved. For disappearing on you and ignoring your calls and letters. I—I was ashamed, Chandrelle."
I stopped walking and turned to face him. "Ashamed?"
"Yes," He said, his voice heavy with emotion. "Ashamed of the way my mother spoke to you. Ashamed of the way the entire night, intruding on our date. And most of all, ashamed that I didn't do more to stop them sooner. You deserve so much better than that. Better than... me."
His words hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. He looked at me, his expression a mix of anguish and resignation. "You're perfect, Chandrelle. You're like a gift—untouchable, unapproachable. And I understand completely if you don't want to continue this. Dating me must feel like a burden."
I stared at him, my chest tightening. For all his flaws, Zorion had a way of baring his soul that made it impossible to stay angry.
"I won't lie to you," I said finally. "I hated that you shut me out. You vanished without a word, and I had no idea what you were thinking or feeling. It hurt."
His face fell, and he opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to stop him.
"But," I continued, "I understand needing space. What I ask is that, next time, you tell me. Let me know you need time rather than leaving me in the dark."
