love has no surname

(Part 2) As the morning light crept through my window, I woke up feeling ravenous, my stomach growling with hunger. I realized I hadn't eaten in over 24 hours, and my weakness was evident in my shaky legs and dizzy head. Just as I was contemplating what to do, I heard a gentle knock on the door. "Who is it?" I called out, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's me, Max," he replied, his voice soft and calm. I hesitated for a moment, feeling a pang of guilt and regret. But my hunger won over, and I slowly made my way to the door. I opened it to find Max standing with a tray of breakfast in his hands. He smiled kindly and said, "Good morning, Summer." I felt a lump form in my throat as I took the tray from him. He didn't say another word, just handed me the food and turned to leave. I watched him, feeling a deep sense of remorse. I knew I had hurt him badly yesterday, and his silence was a testament to that. As he turned to leave, I called out, "Max, wait." He paused and turned back to me, his eyes searching mine. "I'm so sorry for yesterday," I said, my voice sincere. "I was wrong to speak to you like that." Max looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, he spoke, his voice low and measured. "It's fine, Summer. You're right. I should be going back to where I belong." His words left me speechless, and I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes. I knew I had hurt him deeply, and his forgiveness wasn't going to come easily. I nodded, feeling a lump form in my throat. "Thank you, Max. I appreciate it." He turned to leave, his silence echoing through the hallway. I watched him go, feeling a deep sense of regret and longing. I knew I had to make things right. With a heavy heart, I closed the door and carried the tray to my bed. I ate in silence, my mind replaying the events of the past 24 hours. As the evening sun cast its golden glow over the estate, Williams' car pulled up to the gate. Max, still hurting from our earlier encounter, stood firm, refusing to open the gate. Williams honked the horn repeatedly, growing more agitated by the minute. "Open the gate, you fool!" Williams shouted, his insults piercing the air. "I need to see Summer!" Max remained steadfast, his expression unyielding. "I'm sorry, Williams. Summer doesn't want to see you." Williams' face turned red with rage. "You're just a gate boy! Who are you to decide who can see her?" Their argument escalated, their voices growing louder and more heated. I, still feeling guilty and vulnerable, couldn't help but be drawn to the commotion. I made my way downstairs, my heart racing with anticipation. As I approached the gate, I saw Williams and Max standing outside, their faces inches apart. Williams' eyes locked onto mine, and he flashed a charming smile. "Baby, what's all this?" he asked, his voice dripping with sweetness. "Did you tell him not to let me come to your house again?" Baby looked, I was drunk that day and was going through a lot, that's why I acted the way I did that day. He said. I hesitated, my emotions torn. Part of me still loved Williams, but another part was angry and hurt. "It's okay, Williams," I said softly. "But you should have told me at least..." Max interrupted, his voice firm. "Summer, don't fall for his lies. He's just trying to manipulate you." I turned to Max, my eyes narrowing. "Excuse me? Are you okay? Who asked you to decide who can come to my house and who not to?" Williams laughed, his eyes mocking Max. "Gate boy, I told you before to channel your energy to where you belong – this gate!" Max's face fell, his eyes stinging from the insult. Without a word, he opened the gate, and Williams drove in. We both went inside, leaving Max to nurse his wounded pride. As he watched us disappear into the house, he felt a pang of regret. Had I just made a mistake by letting Williams back in? And what would happen to Max, the loyal gate man who had stood up for me? As I stepped into the house, Williams' charming smile and apologetic eyes greeted me, making my heart waver. He pulled me into a warm embrace, his whispers of regret and promise of change echoing in my ear. I felt my resolve weakening, my anger and hurt melting away with each tender touch. But as we sat down in the living room, Max's words of warning lingered in my mind, refusing to be silenced. I couldn't shake off the feeling that Williams was hiding something, that his apologies were mere tactics to win me back. As we talked, Williams' phone buzzed incessantly, his eyes darting towards it with a mixture of anxiety and guilt. I sensed a secret, a hidden truth that he was desperate to keep from me. Suddenly, his phone rang loudly, shattering the fragile peace. Williams' eyes locked onto mine, a flicker of fear dancing in their depths. "I need to take this," he muttered, rising from the couch. As he stepped outside, his voice grew distant, his words indistinguishable. But one phrase caught my attention, a phrase that sent a chill down my spine: "I'll handle it, don't worry." Handle what? Who was he talking to? And what secrets was he hiding from me? My mind raced with questions, my heart pounding with anticipation. And then, Williams walked back into the room, his eyes avoiding mine, his smile strained. "Everything okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Everything's fine," he replied, his tone too casual, too rehearsed. But I knew better. I knew that nothing was fine, that a storm was brewing, waiting to unleash its fury upon me. To be continued...