Take Me Back To Paddington (SERIES)

Chapter 7 - The Takeaway

I exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my chest, hand closing the door so carefully since I didn't want it to creak. I knew it was impossible, every door in this house creaked, even the floorboards did. It was an old house anyway, everything made noises. I guessed it was just the fear of getting caught that drew me cautious about my movements even though I knew it wouldn't work.

Another door along the hallway announced its presence when it was opened, letting me know that my efforts were all useless.

"Chae?" Her voice greeted me as she rubbed her eye. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," I answered instantly. "I just had my shower"

"It's 1 in the morning"

"It was hot earlier"

Natalie leaned against the door frame, eyes staring at me and looking like she was getting suspicious of my answers.

"You know it's autumn, right?"

"Of course," I sighed, starting to walk away from the bathroom door. "I was sweating and uncomfortable, that's all"

"Are you sure you aren't drunk right now?"

"What?! No!" I whined this time when she mentioned about my stupid mistake. "I didn't drink, alright?"

"I'm just asking since you went out at 10," She clarified herself as her arms crossed. "Good to know that you are safely home...and not drunk"

"Nat!" I stomped my feet, pushing my bedroom door when I reached there and earning a laugh from her.

"I'm just teasing you!"

"Goodnight!" I ignored her since I got embarrassed, locking the door and walking towards my closet straight away.

The bafflement in my thoughts had become heavier because I was still feeling hot even after a midnight shower, even with the window slightly opened. My throat was having the driest time of its life no matter how many glasses of water I had taken. There was nothing else I could do at that time to feel all right, and I was getting anxious on my bed where I was supposed to be sleeping in.

I lifted my hand, eyes darted at the plaster around my index finger. The wound wasn't that big but the cut was deep, I could tell by the stinging pain I was feeling. It wasn't that I had low tolerance to pain, I could definitely handle small cuts. In fact, I cut myself quite often back then when I first started cooking and I still cut myself sometimes. That happened if I was in rush to chase orders, being careless and clumsy all together. But the wound that I was staring at gave me a different kind of concern, probably because it wasn't made by my own knife.

Closing my eyes, I breathed out and forced myself to sleep. I still had a few hours left before get up time, and I would need to do my morning routine before leaving to work. The night I had was a long one and I did feel tired. I just hoped that when I woke up, everything would get better; the sadness, the pain, the grief, the feelings. All, will get better.

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The ceiling was the first thing I saw when I woke up, which was strange to me because I never slept on my back before. I would always sleep on my side; left or right didn't really matter, because that was the position I was most comfortable with.

So I rolled to my left, eyes meeting the digital clock on the nightstand and finding out that I was one minute early before my 6a.m. alarm could scream. It felt so refreshing to wake up on your own without any loud noise forcing you to, giving you the assumption that your body had enough sleep and that made you feel good. That was what I was feeling now. Finally, it felt like it was going to be a good morning.