Classic Novel
Chapter 137
137 Dream time is up
Sebastian’s POV All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.
As I watch her trying to engage me in a conversation, to keep me distracted with phony gratitude, I can taste only bitterness in my mouth no matter how much nerve–number I pour down.
I know why she could lie to me now– I’m no longer special to her.
I am to her now as is everyone else, a person she can use and not feel bad about it. Honesty is to her a ” solid base for marriage“. I ruined that marriage, and she is allowed to not give a damn to its base.
She was right. She built a home for me, for us. A real home, not just a house to live in, a harbor where I could relax from my day and recharge, where I was cared for to the extreme without paying anything.
I broke that heaven into pieces without realizing what I had.
I watch her — I meant I “not notice” her steal my phone and give it to a guy I don’t even know like the most awkward thief in the world that she is, tasting the bitter pain in my chest as if a thousand needles are piercing me.
She has made her bed, then she has to lie in it, right?
She got me drunk, and she stuck herself in a conversation with me that she clearly hated, to have my phone, then she had to tolerate me. That’s how it works.
“I’m sorry I hurt you because I couldn’t face my own doing…” I loathe the coward that I am, only dare to say this with the excuse of being drunk, “Could you…”
…Forgive me, one last time?
I dare not ask. I know her answer. I guess I never understood her fear when she prepared a gift for a month, just to ask one simple question. Now on the other end of an ask, I can’t even imagine where she found the courage and patience to ask over and over again, just for a piece of time with me, when I gave only cold, blunt rejections in return.
“Your drink, Ma’am,” The bartender brings up a drink for her at the best timing.
“Ohh, I–” Scar wants to refuse, and the sourness in my chest makes me grab her wrist in sulk–
“Aren’t you the one who wanted a drink with me?”
Scar tries to pull her wrist back. I let her go and she flinches back as if scared. Even such a move stings my eyes. She hates being close to me, and like a mean kid throwing a tantrum, I pull her seat into me, grabbing the back of her chair and keep her in my “territory“.
She can’t leave. She hasn’t returned my phone, and she remains mine, for now.
Scar puts her hand on my shoulder an attempt to keep the last distance between us. We used to have negative distance between us, and now even at an arm’s length, it’s too close to her.
I tilt my head, feeling her tender skin on my face. I miss her, so much. I never thought of myself as a Justful man. I didn’t want to have sex with Scar. I hated her for forcing my hand, and I wanted to keep the marriage as basic as possible.
137 Dream time is up
But one time with Scar, it became my addiction.
1 miss her tender touch, her soft body submitting to me, her passionate panting, and most of all, her
soulful eyes when she gazes at me with utter admiration and…love.
That was love. With her, it was “making love“, not just, sex.
“You don’t know how much I have been missing you…” Grumbling by her ear, I grab her waist and press her into me, and reluctantly, Scar gives in after a restrained struggle.
I feel complete, finally.
I have been lost for so long, and at this moment, I feel at home.
“Scar…tell me you miss me,” I mumble by her ear. I want something, anything in return. I want her eyes to shine for me like they used to; I want her to smile at me and assure me that she is mine, and she wants me hers. I want so much from her, and all that I want, I had it in my hand once.
“1-” Scar struggles and I keep her under my palm, “I have to go!”
She suddenly pushes me hard, and I look up, only to see my phone right on the table.
Dream time is up.
1
“Anyways, take a pill when you get home or you will have a bad hangover tomorrow? It’s in the drawer of the nightstand.” Scar pats me on the arm half–mindedly, in a hurry to leave. Not sparing even an extra second with me, she slips off. Out of my reach.