Chapter 5
1316 Words
Emily sat on the sofa, the blood-stained bandage on her wrist having just been replaced.
While she held the remote, supposedly choosing a movie, her eyes couldn’t help but follow Mr. Thompson’s movements. She paid no attention to where her absentminded button-mashing had actually landed her in the channels.
Mr. Thompson put away the first-aid kit and tossed the alcohol wipe he’d used into the trash. His deep, dark eyes flickered briefly towards Emily.
Emily had been watching him the whole time. Wherever he moved, her gaze followed.
She seemed… incredibly insecure.
It reminded Mr. Thompson of when six-year-old Emily had first arrived at the Thompson household, just as cautious and anxious. Crying under the covers after nightmares, curled into a tight ball, calling out for her parents and sister… It had been heart-wrenching to witness.
It had taken him three months to earn her trust, after which she became his little shadow. Then, over the next decade or so, he’d helped her truly become part of the Thompson family. She had become confident and radiant, spoiled utterly rotten by him. Everyone in their social circles jokingly called her the ‘Little Princess of the City’.
He never imagined that Ethan could undo all those years of effort so easily, in just two years.
Mr. Thompson poured a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and returned to Emily’s side.
“Planning to watch cartoons?” He gently placed the orange juice in front of her, raising an eyebrow slightly, glancing at the TV screen.
Emily looked at the screen and realized her absentminded browsing had landed her on a cartoon channel – specifically, an educational one for preschoolers. Flushing crimson, she quickly grabbed the remote to pick something else.
But… what to watch…
Suddenly, Emily remembered how Mr. Thompson used to tease her about being terrified of horror movies yet insisting on watching them (‘a glutton for punishment’). An idea sparked, and she selected a newly released suspense-horror film.
That way, she’d have a perfectly legitimate excuse to snuggle up to him!
“Emily, are you sure you want to watch this?” Mr. Thompson saw the new movie’s title, his brow furrowing slightly.
The new movie had received excellent reviews; Nick Ziegler had actually invested in it and made a killing. The plot was supposedly brilliant, but also terrifying. Not suitable for Emily – she’d always been afraid of such things.
Because… she had witnessed her parents’ tragic death in a car accident as a child.
“Mmhmm!” Emily nodded emphatically. She was watching this.
Otherwise, how else would she get a chance to cling to him?
“Not scared?”
“Not scared!”
Besides, he was right there. If she got really scared, she’d just dive into his arms.
Emily schemed silently.
Looking at the girl’s bright, seemingly guileless eyes, Mr. Thompson’s expression suddenly hardened.
Ethan must have changed her. He probably made her watch plenty of these things.
Mr. Thompson said nothing more and sat down on the armrest of the sofa, leaving a deliberate space between himself and Emily.
Emily had always been the one to bridge the distance between them. If she didn’t initiate, Mr. Thompson kept his distance. He was afraid of his own darker impulses being exposed to her.
Emily had no understanding of Mr. Thompson’s restraint.
She glanced at the man, who now seemed to radiate a chill, wondering how she’d managed to upset him again.
Whatever. Appeasing him came first.
The only problem was… in her memory, years had passed since she’d been close to Mr. Thompson. Any attempt at coquetry would feel forced and awkward now.
Just as Emily was contemplating how to appease the man, the horror movie started with a bang – a gruesome, bloody face suddenly filled the large screen.
“Ahh!” Emily shrieked and, without a second thought, launched herself towards Mr. Thompson.
The moment Mr. Thompson heard her shriek, his arms had already shot out to catch her.
She landed right in his embrace. Mr. Thompson looked down at the tousled head nestled against him, a faint smile touching his lips. So, she was still scared.
“Is it over? Is it over yet?” Emily’s heart hammered wildly against her ribs, her voice trembling uncontrollably.
Mr. Thompson glanced at the screen, where the actual plot was beginning to unfold, and his lips barely moved as he replied, “No.”
Hearing this, Emily burrowed deeper into his arms. “T-tell me when it’s over.”
“Mm,” Mr. Thompson responded coolly, his arms tightening around the girl in his embrace. The clean, crisp scent of her shower gel drifted up from the slightly open collar of her shirt. It was intoxicating, captivating.
Yet, a deeper layer of self-loathing flickered within Mr. Thompson’s cold, ink-dark eyes. He knew perfectly well she loved someone else, that she was only seeking refuge in his arms because he was the family she depended on… Yet, despicably, he wanted to possess her. Not just her body. But her heart too.
If she knew he’d harbored such thoughts since she was barely a teenager, she would surely find him repulsive. Mr. Thompson gave a self-deprecating smirk. He couldn’t keep up the pretense for too long. He was afraid she’d notice.
So, he gently rested his chin on the top of Emily’s head, nuzzling it slightly, and said in a low voice, “It’s over.”
However, Emily didn’t move. She mumbled something unintelligible and continued to nestle against him.
A flicker of surprise crossed Mr. Thompson’s dark eyes. Was she… asleep? In his arms?
Mr. Thompson slightly loosened his hold, adjusting her position more comfortably against him, and looked down. The girl snuggled in his embrace had her long, thick lashes resting quietly against her eyelids. Those usually bright, lively eyes were obediently closed. Her shallow, even breathing indicated she had truly drifted off to sleep. Only her uninjured hand, even in sleep, still clutched tightly onto the hem of his shirt, as if terrified he would leave.
This feeling of being trusted, of being needed by her, softened Mr. Thompson’s hardened heart completely. He picked up the remote that had fallen onto the sofa and muted the TV. Then, he simply sat there, quietly watching his cherished little rose transition from light sleep into a deep slumber.
After a long while, he lowered his head slightly and pressed an incredibly light kiss onto her pale forehead.
Emily didn’t stir. The physical exhaustion of the day, the psychological shock of her rebirth, and the long-missed, familiar scent of Mr. Thompson that brought her such peace, all allowed her to relax completely. In her past life, she had suffered from insomnia for a very, very long time.
Emily slept soundly until the middle of the night. She stirred because she tried to turn over in her sleep and couldn’t, prompting her drowsy eyes to open.
But the moment she opened her eyes, she saw Mr. Thompson’s devastatingly handsome, stern face right before her. Feeling as if she were still trapped in a dream, her eyes stung with unshed tears.
“Mr. Thompson…” she whimpered plaintively, raising a hand to touch his face. “I already know I was wrong, why are you still ignoring me?”
She had sent him so, so many apologetic messages. But he hadn’t replied to a single one. He didn’t want her anymore.
Mr. Thompson’s gaze grew complicated as he watched Emily’s eyes quickly redden, the hurt and anxiety in them so palpable he couldn’t possibly ignore it. What exactly was she afraid of? Or rather… what had she experienced?
“Mr. Thompson isn’t ignoring Emily,” he said, reaching up to gently capture her soft fingers. His voice was low and husky. “Mr. Thompson will never ignore Emily.”
Unless he was dead.
- Writer
