Dreams were great. In there, Christopher explained everything to me. He was terribly worried too. How nice it would be if reality were the same. Silently, I wept. No one would know if I ever did that in a dream. I could cry to my heart’s content without having to care what anybody thought.
A pair of hands gently wiped away the tears from the corners of my eyes. It must be Christopher’s hands. They were so warm. I hoped I never had to wake up from this dream.
“Christopher… Christopher…” I called his name in between sobs as I buried myself in his arms.
I was soon awakened by the divine aroma of food. Rubbing my sleepy eyes, I sat up on the bed. Christopher was in front of the dressing table, smoking quietly. An orange-reddish glow flickered near his lips while the wisps of smoke shrouded his dark eyes, so much so that I could not catch the light in his orbs.
“Oh, you’re awake. I’ve prepared some food for you. Come eat.” Christopher stubbed out his cigarette and opened the windows, inviting the wind.
I got up from the bed, allowing my warm body to be exposed to the air. Christopher grabbed a thick garment from the wardrobe and put it on me. “It’s gotten cold recently. You should wear more layers.”
I touched the cotton-based top covering me. It was a Chanel product that was quite expensive. Basically, the designer outfits in the wardrobe were all supplied by Christopher. I had never purchased such high-end fashion for myself. The size fitted me just right, and the style suited my taste. He knew every inch of my body better than I knew myself.
Looking up at him, I was surprised to see how pale he was. I had not seen him in two days, yet he appeared as though he had not rested in a long time. Exhaustion loomed over him. There were dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and the stubble on his chin had clearly been overlooked.
Has he been that busy?
I got dressed, took a quick shower, and came to the dining table. A marvelous meal containing all my favorite dishes had been prepared. Christopher’s cooking skills were greatly improving. In the past, his food was either too salty or too bland; he sometimes added too much salt, and other times, not enough. Now, all the food he cooked was tailored according to what I like.
Is this a farewell feast? I helped myself to a piece of crab. and managed to dig up some crab roe. Christopher grabbed a porcelain bowl, his fair fingers holding onto the edge. So slender they were, much more eye-catching than the porcelain bowl in his hand.
Using a ladle, he scooped some soup and poured it into a bowl for me. “It’s chicken broth. Helps replenish the blood. Drink up.”
I felt that our relationship seemed to have taken a one-eighty. On the day he left, no matter what I said or how I acted, all he did was ignore me. He did not say a word. Now, he was the one who spoke, but it was my turn to go mum.
I did not know what to say, and I dared not ask him when he planned to marry Monica. I feared I could not accept it if it were to happen soon. I also dared not ask him what he planned to do with me after he and Monica got engaged.
I forced myself to gulp some food even though I did not have much of an appetite. When I put down my fork and intended to put away the food, Christopher stopped me. He chided me, saying that I had not eaten my fill. Stubbornly, he scooped more food onto my plate and refilled my bowl of soup, sternly instructing me to gobble them up.
Not wanting to disappoint him, I picked up the utensils to start eating. In a few short minutes, I emptied my plate. When I was done, I took to clean up the table when he pulled me back and pressed me onto the couch. “Your wounds aren’t completely healed yet. Just stay here and rest.”
I merely smiled and said nothing. I looked on affectionately as he got busy in the kitchen. When he came out and lifted me onto his lap, I looked up and stroked his face. That was when I finally opened my mouth to ask, “When shall I move out?”
If Christopher wanted me out of his sight right then, I would gladly oblige.
When the man registered my query, his face fell. He tossed me aside and narrowed his eyes at me. Vigorous anger-filled those orbs as the raging storm around him sought to destroy me.
He’s mad again!
A moment later, I heard him snort. He turned around and strode out, slamming the door behind him. I was left alone, staring blankly at the closed door.
Soon after, I came back to my senses. I rose to my feet and rushed to the door. I opened it and gave chase. I still wanted him to stay with me in the short time we had left.
