Chapter 4
1135 Words
Emily sat on the edge of her bed, looking through the window, admiring the beautiful surroundings of her home. The warmth of her skin did nothing to unfreeze the cold and gnawing fear inside her. Her memory keeps going back to the night with Connor, no matter how hard she tries to stop thinking about it.
Connor hasn't been making it easy for her as well; he keeps reaching out and sending her messages. She has been able to ignore him for a long time , but every time his name pops up on her phone, her heart skips.
Emily needed a distraction from all these thoughts. She stops up from her bedside to her studio room to paint anything that comes to her mind. Upon entering her studio, Emily's gaze fell upon the vibrant canvases showcasing her artistic expertise. Her hand trembled as she grasped her paintbrush, ready to draw. The canvases around her—bright strokes of color, abstract shapes, faces blurred by longing—reflected the life she wished for, free from Peter’s suffocating control. Painting had always been her outlet, her way to scream without making a sound. But it wasn’t enough anymore.
Months ago, she had created an anonymous blog to share her art with the world—her secret rebellion against Peter’s iron grip on her life. At first, it was just a private space to display her work, but the blog had gained traction. Strangers left comments, praising her talent, connecting with her paintings’ raw emotions. They saw the side of her that Peter never would.
But if Peter ever found out, her stomach clenched at the thought. The blog—her only secret, her only escape—would be gone. And so would any sliver of freedom she had left.
Peter's disapproving voice echoed in her mind, "A waste of time." Yet, in this space, she was free. Emily clenched the brush, dipped it in the colors, and let her emotions flow onto the canvas. Painting was her refuge from life's turmoil.
Lost in the creative haze, Emily paused, stepping back to behold her art. A gasp escaped her lips. On the canvas, a woman stood, enveloped in a gentle, passionate embrace. A man's hands cradled her face, his touch tender. Emily's eyes widened, her mind racing.
"What am I doing?" she whispered, brush hovering above the canvas. The image seemed to clearly express her intense night with Connor.
Emily stopped and dropped the brush on the floor, leaving the artwork unfinished yet revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Her feelings for Connor.
“Mia,” Emily whispered. “I need to call her to confirm if Peter called.” Emily was tense even though she knew Mia would have given her feedback if he had called, but she needed to be sure.
Emily dialed Mia’s number, her fingers trembling slightly. The phone rang twice before Mia picked up, her voice concerned.
“Hey, Mia. Did Peter call?”
Mia let out a small sigh of relief before answering, “No, not yet.”
“Emily, you need to calm down; Peter is definitely going to notice something if you continue to behave this way.” Mia encourages her, feeling the tension from the other end of the line.
Mia’s voice softened with empathy. “I’m here for you, Emily; just ignore him, as we have discussed earlier on.”
“Alright dear,” Emily whispered. “Thank you.”
Emily hung up the phone and sighed. Even her friend Mia couldn't fully understand the tangled web she had found herself.
Just as she was about to drop her phone down, it buzzed with another message. This time, from Connor.
Connor: “Emily, you have not been responding to my chats; did l do something wrong? I can’t stop thinking about you. We need to meet again. Soon.”
Emily’s heart raced. Why could he just leave things the way they were and give up? She can't risk seeing him again and having to deal with more guilt with Peter. The thought of Peter finding out made her feet cold, considering she had seen firsthand the length Peter could go to protect what was his.
All that she is doing isn’t just for her sake but for Connor’s too. But Connor wasn’t backing off. Over the past few days, he had found ways to get closer, sending texts, emails, and even gifts. Yesterday, a bouquet of white lilies appeared on her doorstep. There was no card, but she knew they were from him. She hadn’t told Peter about the flowers. She couldn’t.
Now, Connor had crossed another line. She didn’t know how, but he had found her home address. And while part of her was flattered by the attention, she was terrified this could be a problem.
Yes, she has been ignoring him, but should she block his number or just do something to stop him from reaching out to her? All these questions lingered on Emily’s mind.
That evening, Emily tried to push thoughts of Connor away. Peter had returned from work happier, and looking at their history together, she would want to sustain the peace between them while it lasted.
As they ate dinner together, Peter was talking about a new business deal, something about contracts, and the high chance of him winning—definitely the reasons he has been so happy that evening.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Both Emily and Peter paused, looking towards the front door.
“Are we expecting someone?” Peter asked, looking confused, as he doesn’t usually get visitors around.
“No,” Emily replied, her stomach grumbling at who it could be.
Peter stood up, walking towards the door. Emily's heart skipped a beat as she sat paralyzed, watching Peter approach the door.
The door opened; it was a delivery man holding a bouquet of roses.
“For the Grayson household?” the man asked, glancing down at his clipboard. Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
“We’re not expecting any deliveries,” Peter muttered, taking the flowers from the man and signing the acknowledgement slip handed to him.
Peter examined the bouquet, searching for a card. Emily's anxiety grew, her mind racing. When he found the envelope, she knew she couldn't escape what was coming.
Peter read the words on the card very loud.
“To Emily. From Connor.”
Peter's expression hardened as he returned to the table, flowers in hand. Emily's heart raced with anticipation.
“Who is Connor?” Peter asked, his voice deep and thick.
Emily's heart dropped as she struggled to find an answer. Memories of Connor's warm embrace flooded her mind. Would she risk everything to protect the truth?
She felt like she was falling, with no words to express her fear.
- Writer
