[REBECCA]
Balancing the final tray in one hand, I swiftly wiped the dining table with the other. Straightening up, I walked away from the table, briefly glancing down at my dress to spot a small stain.
Lost in my thoughts, I collided forcefully with what felt like a solid wall of muscle. My eyes widened as I felt myself teetering backward, desperately trying to regain my balance. But I was losing the battle. Bracing for impact, I shut my eyes tightly, preparing for the jolt of impact with the ground.
However, instead of hitting the floor, an arm wrapped around my waist, holding me securely. My heart raced in my chest as I cautiously opened my eyes. It was Artemy.
My body arched backward as he kept me close to his chest, his firm hold preventing my fall.
“Be careful there. You should watch where you’re going,” he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of admonishment.
My heart skipped a beat, sending a shiver down my spine as his voice resonated through the room. Anxiously biting my lip, I nodded in response. Whenever he was near, my thoughts became a jumbled mess, and no matter how much I tried to comprehend it, I couldn’t make sense of my feelings.
Glancing at his arm wrapped around me, a memory from our earlier conversation flashed in my mind, causing my forehead to crease in confusion. “You’re not supposed to touch me,” I blurted out.
He had just saved me from an embarrassing fall, and yet I hadn’t even thanked him. Artemy’s chest rumbled with laughter, and I noticed a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. That look made me uneasy.
“Oops,” he said.
In an instant, I found myself sprawled on the floor, the tray slipping from my grasp and crashing to the ground. “Ow,” I exclaimed as pain shot through my hips upon impact.
Cringing and clutching the sore spot, I gazed up at Artemy in disbelief.
“My bad. I forgot,” he smirked, bringing his hands up to his shoulders, as if to demonstrate that he was no longer touching me.
What a jerk. An absolute jerk. He gave me a nonchalant nod before walking away, leaving me bewildered on the floor. Couldn’t he have at least helped me up instead of simply dropping me?
But that was just typical of him.
I picked up the fallen tray and struggled to stand, wincing at the ache in my hips. I was certain they would be bruised by tomorrow. Glancing at Artemy’s retreating figure, frustration welled up inside me, and I let out an exasperated huff.
Entering the kitchen, I spotted Lynda loading the dishwasher. She turned around, noticing the sour expression on my face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.
“Is Artemy always this infuriating?” I sighed, placing the tray on the counter.
“You’re only realizing that now?” She chuckled. “Yes, he definitely is.”
I continued rubbing my hips, and Lynda’s gaze landed on my hand. She pointed at it and inquired, “So, what happened?”
Releasing a heavy, weary sigh, I sank onto a stool. “It’s… a long story.”
“Does it involve Artemy?” she asked.
I nodded, and a wide, excited smile spread across Lynda’s face. She dashed over, grabbing another stool and positioning it in front of me. “Okay, we’ve got plenty of time. Spill it. Tell me everything.”
From the very beginning, I knew that starting from scratch was the best option. It was the only way for everything to fall into place and make sense. As I began recounting the events, I could see the disbelief and shock wash over Lynda’s face. She listened intently as I described how Artemy had threatened me, demanding to know my identity. I didn’t hold back as I detailed Artemy’s choices and the unexpected kiss and intense experience he had bestowed upon me. And then I filled her in on what had transpired that very morning.
Lynda couldn’t contain her reactions, frequently interrupting me and becoming increasingly agitated. She grabbed hold of my shoulders, shaking me in disbelief. Her words tumbled out in a flurry, expressing her astonishment and frustration. It was clear that she felt betrayed by my silence. I tried to calm her down, gently pushing her away as she settled back onto her stool, though her knees continued to bounce nervously.
“Just breathe, Lynda,” I urged, hoping to pacify her. She took a moment, attempting to collect herself, but it was short-lived. She shook her head, unable to find the calm she had claimed. “Lynda, please, just listen. It’s not as significant as it sounds. He was out of line, and I can’t believe he would do something like that. But he promised he wouldn’t touch me again. So that’s something positive, right?” I pleaded, searching for reassurance.
Lynda stared at me blankly for a moment before bursting into laughter. “You’re funny, Becca. Do you really think he won’t find other ways to get to you? He may not physically touch you, but he’ll manipulate and control you in other ways. And trust me, he’ll make you beg for him. That man is cunning, resourceful, and persistent.”
Her words failed to comfort me; instead, they stirred up anxiety and panic within me. “So, you’re saying he won’t give up?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Nope,” Lynda responded bluntly.
“Lynda, I don’t want him. Why can’t he understand that? It’s unbearable,” I lamented, feeling tears welling up. I rubbed my forehead in frustration, trying to push back the overwhelming emotions.
“Becca, I’m sorry for making things worse,” Lynda apologized sincerely.
“No, I’d rather hear the truth, even if it hurts. But I just don’t know,” I admitted, wiping away my tears. I closed my eyes tightly, taking a deep breath and counting to ten before opening them again. “I’m sorry. I’ve been putting a lot on you emotionally.”
“It’s okay, babe. I’ve got your back,” Lynda assured me, offering her support.
“Thank you,” I replied gratefully.
“No problem. Alright, let’s get ourselves together. We have some cleaning to do before dinner.” Lynda’s voice took on a determined tone, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.