Venturously Yours,

How does one know if one speaks the truth and then does something entirely opposite? Where is the guarantee? The assurance of something stable?

When Eliot read his diary, she saw the list of things he wanted to do. All his dreams and ideas scribbled in his perfect handwriting. When she came across her name, her heart leapt into her mouth.

Why did he have her name on these pages of his private thoughts? And why the fuck was she reading this? Her pulse thumped as she continues to read the page.

Number one: Break up whatever nonsense was happening with Elixir. First thing tomorrow morning.

Number two: Kidnap Eliot.

Number three: Get to know her before the clothes come off.

Number four: Clothes must come off. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And, repeat.

Number five: seal the project, inspired. Motivated and fill up the damn blank space with a curl drawn on his drawing paper.

Number six: finish the sculpture. Say goodbye to Eliot.

She felt like a chameleon changing its skin to each of the points. Heart bursting when she read he would break it off with her sister. Lust and desire burning her as she traced the way he wrote kidnap Eliot.

Blood pressure rising on the next two points of him getting to know her and wanting to be personal and intimate with her.

Then, the sinking of her stomach at the last point. Goodbye to Eliot.

Goodbye? He surely couldn't mean that. She refused to believe in this. Even if the last few days or -not that she was counting that it had been a week since he didn't answer his phone or text messages that she left him, she had known he was working and decided not to disturb him further. But the distance was getting too much.

When she had walked into the guest bedroom which pretty much became his room and noticed the old rusty leather bound book. When she saw his name on top, she first thought not to check it but the temptations tragically declined all her rational thoughts.

Now, she wished she hadn't given in.

Her eyes closed. Is that why he didn't text her? Now that he had his ideas and his sculpture was ready, he was done with her? She swallowed thickly, trying to process everything.

Even now, she refused to believe in this. She was not alone in this.

He loves her, didn't he? Surely, there was a reasonable explanation to this. He can't do something so hurtful. He wasn't like that. He was simple and kind in the most ferocious way she has ever known. And she loves him. Will always love him.

Standing up, she runs to her room and grabs her phone, calling up her travel agent for an immediate flight to Germany. He isn't the only who could make grand big gestures.

She needed to talk him straight down, no more backing away from what she wanted. And what she wanted was Octavius.

Calling a cab, she just swung her purse filled with essentials. She didn't bother to change her jeans and the v-neck olive green sweater she donned on. Getting inside the vehicle, she shouted at the spooked driver to drive fast towards the airport.

Her feet tapped against the floor mat of the cab, and the anxiety started to cripple her. Her reflection stared back at her. What was she doing?