Once, my paranoid love

I blinked my eyes and gently patted Derek’s side as a sign of concern. “You should take rest,” I urged, my voice filled with worry for him. The events of the day had undoubtedly taken their toll on both of us, and the weight of our shared experiences hung heavily in the air.

Derek offered a tired smile, a testament to his resilience even in the face of exhaustion. With great effort, he lay down on the bed, his gaze fixed on me. I could sense the warmth of his eyes, a silent testament to the depth of his feelings.

I closed my eyes slowly, feigning sleep-my way of offering him the space and time he needed to rest. As I lay there with my eyes shut, I could feel his presence beside me.

After a while, I felt Derek’s cool fingers brushing against my hair, a gentle and tender gesture that spoke volumes. He carefully moved a strand of hair away from my ear; his touch was a testament to the tenderness he felt for me. I remained still, my facade of sleep unbroken.

In the quiet of the room, Derek’s voice, soft and filled with affection, broke the silence. “Good night, love,” he whispered, his words carrying a warmth that tugged at my heart.

My heart skipped a beat, and a rush of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. I fought to hold back the tears that welled in my eyes, determined to maintain the pretense of slumber.

In the depths of the night, I found myself awakening from my feigned slumber, the stillness of the room enveloping me. The world outside was draped in darkness, and the hush of the night pressed upon me. I couldn’t discern the hour, nor did I know how long I had lay there, pretending to sleep, or perhaps waiting for the same from Derek.

Turning my gaze to Derek, I observed his figure, his back turned toward me. It appeared that he had succumbed to the embrace of deep sleep. His rhythmic breathing was a testament to the exhaustion he had borne, a reflection of the burdens that weighed on his shoulders.

With silent footsteps, I rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the tranquility of the room. My destination was the door, a passage that beckoned me to depart the room for a while. Before I opened the door, I glanced back at Derek, my heart heavy with the decision I was about to make.

Whispering to myself, a voice barely audible in the stillness of the night, I uttered, “I am sorry. I can’t bear to see him suffer.”

The words hung in the air for a fleeting moment, a silent plea for understanding. I was torn between the love I held for Paul and the agony of witnessing his pain.

[Crack]

As Elena slipped out of the room, Derek slowly opened his eyes.

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, he lay there, staring up at the ceiling. His eyes, once filled with tenderness, now simmered with anger and frustration. The weight of the world bore down on him, as did the crushing pain of helplessness and the seething rage at the source of his torment.

His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as he whispered a solemn oath through gritted teeth. “I will kill you, Paul.”

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As I stepped through the threshold and into the corridor, the dim light of the moon cast ethereal shadows around me. The mansion was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the night.

As I descended the staircase to the first floor, a blanket of silence enveloped the mansion, shrouding it in the deep hush of the night. It was evident that everyone had retired to their slumber, seeking refuge in the realm of dreams.

Reaching the kitchen, I hurried to the refrigerator. With swift and silent movements, I gathered a selection of leftovers, arranging them in the microwave for quick reheating.

In that solitary moment, when the night wrapped around me like a comforting shroud, a voice broke the stillness, startling me. “Ma’am!”

I turned swiftly, my heart racing with surprise. I hadn’t expected any company at this hour, and the sudden presence of the maid who had earlier attended to Paul’s needs caught me off guard. My voice trembled as I responded, “You… You didn’t go to sleep.”

“Yes, but hearing the sound, I come to see. Ma’am, do you need something?” The girl asked.

I pressed my lips and finally said the truth. After hearing everything, that girl said, “If sir hears about it by chance, then I may lose my work here.”

With a sense of resolve, I assured her, “You don’t have to worry. He won’t know.”

After a moment, she led the way to the basement, the tray in my hands a constant reminder of the purpose behind it. I followed her down the stairs, the basement in stark contrast to the rest of the well-kept mansion. Dust particles danced in the dim light, and the air held an eerie stillness.

The maid hesitated and softly requested, “Ma’am, please give me the tray.”

I pondered her proposal for a moment but couldn’t let her bear the entire burden. With a reassuring smile, I replied, “It’s okay, dear. Let me do this.”

The maid led me deeper into the dimly lit basement. The air was thick with apprehension, and my heart weighed heavily with the knowledge of what I was about to witness. The sight that met my eyes was both heartbreaking and disheartening.

There, lying on the cold, dusty floor, was Paul. I spotted him in bad condition. It was difficult to fathom the extent of what he made of himself these days.

As my eyes fell upon him, my heart ached, and a shiver ran down my spine. I struggled to maintain my composure as I called out his name, my voice trembling with a mixture of emotions, “Paul.”

Paul’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his name, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that sent a surge of mixed emotions through me. His smile, despite the hardships he had endured, was a glimmer of the man I loved deeply.

“Elena!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with both relief and joy. He moved towards me, extending his hand as if to touch me. However, the cold, unyielding bars of the prison that confined him served as a cruel reminder of the chasm that now separated us.