I immediately regretted my outburst. Although I felt lighter in my chest and all that, it was still stupid. How could I open myself up that much to a complete stranger? What if he uses it against me? I hoped the ground would open up and swallow me. I stood up, my fists clenched by my sides. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice small. “I… I need to leave now. All I said were lies… don’t believe them.” I stood up and walked straight to my luggage. “Can you also hear me out… please?” I paused. My back was to him. I heard the soft crunch of his footsteps behind me, but he stopped before getting too close. “You think I’m being fake,” he said, voice gentle. “That I’m nice to you because I pity you. But do you have any idea what it feels like… to finally meet someone you actually want to be close to—and they look at you like you're the enemy?” He paused. “I didn’t know being nice to you would hurt you so much,” he continued, “It’s sad you can’t tell the difference because of how hu
“Yeah, because I don't have the look to judge, right? It's not my place because I look like this...”“No… that’s not what I meant,” he replied.My heart was so heavy—I had to let it out, for someone to listen. I don't care who… I had to.“My own mother told me that she regretted the day she conceived me. She wished I died in her womb! She screamed those words at five-year-old me, pinning me to the floor with a dagger pointed at my neck.‘Mummy, I’m sorry,’ my little voice whispered.It wasn’t something new to me. I don’t remember the first time, but I’m sure I must have cried—terrified and confused. Yet, at the end of each outburst, she never had the heart to finish me off. I guess she wasn’t a horrible mother… just a broken woman.”I paused and looked down, my tears flowing like a fountain.“That day, she came home drunk from a failed date. He had rejected her for being a single mother to a Black child. That wasn't the first time. Apparently, my father's race was an issue for them. M
I cursed and resumed eating angrily, my heart still racing. My hair kept getting in the way, tickling my face as I took another bite. I pushed a stray curl out of my face with the back of my hand, but that didn’t help much. And then, out of nowhere, he stood up. I watched in complete confusion as he washed his hands and walked around the table, toward the back of my chair. Wait, what was happening? Before I could react, his hands gently grabbed my curls, and he expertly twisted them into a messy bun, using his own hair tie. It happened so fast. I froze, not knowing whether to breathe or scream. Did he just do that? It felt so... intimate, but in the most innocent way.The softness of his touch, the way he handled my hair, made my racing heart lose its track. He returned to his seat without saying a word, his hair now hanging loosely around his face. I blinked at him, trying to make sense of it all. What just happened? I went back to eating, but I couldn’t focus. My mind k
“Do you like the food?” I looked up slowly and met his eyes. I swallowed tightly. “It’s… too good. Are you, like, a professional chef or something?” A one-side cheek dimple flashed as his lios twitched. “I just… enjoy cooking,” he replied and cupped his jaw, still staring at me. Okay, what’s up with Mr. Handsome Face? Why is he making this hard? I can’t swallow with his eyes on me like that. I slowed down with my chewing, being careful not to mess up. “You do like to eat…” I coughed out at that statement. Because I am fat?! That’s definitely why he was asking that. I don’t know much about men, but it seems like his stare was just out of amusement… mockery… I drank water and stopped eating. “Thanks for the food.” He raised his head from his palm and straightened. “You are not eating anymore?” He said it so softly, like he was confused. I tried not to snap at him, sounding like that after mocking me. I avoided his gaze and nodded. “I have eaten too much already. I don’t
I stepped out of the bathroom cautiously, like I was entering a sacred temple.And there, on the edge of the bed—I found not just one pad.A freaking collection.A full box of pads. A variety pack of tampons. A small heat patch. A fresh bottle of water. And neatly placed bars of dark chocolate.I just stood there, stunned.Who is this man?Was he raised by angels? Trained to be the ideal adult male?I took a tampon, resisted the urge to take the chocolate bar.But it was impossible, so I grabbed one and sprinted back into the bathroom.After taking my bath, I changed into clean clothes from my luggage. But now I had a new battle:should I leave?What if he is not as good as he presents himself. What if I am in danger? I have never been to the United states before.I made up my mind and gathered my stuff quickly then walked to the door.“Please be unlocked,” I murmured, and pulled the knob.The door opened. I was relieved. But another mind told me to think positively. I paused… and
“Thank… thank you…” I murmured after finally getting myself together. He simply nodded, then asked gently, “Is everything alright? You were crawling…” I leapt to my feet so fast I almost pulled a hamstring. “Oh! Totally! Yep. Just… morning stretches. Burning a few calories. Gotta keep the blood flowing, right?” I flung my arms up like I was in a mid-aerobics class. “Just a little crawling cardio.” He stared, then blinked, confused. “…Okay,” he said quietly and nodded. “I had to bring you along. You got drunk, I apologize for not being able to stop you from drinking too much.” He added, then turned and gestured toward the other corner of the room. “Your luggage is there.” My eyes followed his finger. But they didn’t make it to the luggage… they shifted to his back. A badass, realistic colored tiger tattoo—the artist must be blessed with magic fingers. I stared… never knew I could find a tattoo that attractive. When he turned back to me, I quickly looked away, pretending