Secrets Might Tell Themselves

Christopher had taken the 'see you around' promise really seriously.

He had meetings in the restaurant everyday! Plus a dinner or Lunch with Elsa here and there.

She was stuck with having to see him everyday, his gaze doing things to her, her wet dreams about him increasing just as the nightmares about her mysterious groom.

It was all overwhelming, which was why she took a day off.

Her father had been a little worried, and he had chipped in a question or two about her state of health, while intently observing the bags underneath her eyes and her back-breaking, neck-snapping posture on the sofa.

"Are you sure you are okay? I've been observing you. I'm glad that you are becoming more responsible but--"

"I'm good, Pa."

His hand tightened around his briefcase.

"Are you entirely--"

"Romito is fine. Will you stop worrying for nothing?" Her mother stepped into the sitting room in her loose blue shirt and black baggy pants, flats, and her branded handbag.

She could be a century old and she wo