Once, my paranoid love

“But, babe, I didn’t order any soup for you,” Derek revealed, his brow furrowing.

“What? Are you sure you didn’t place an order for me?” I asked, my bewilderment growing.

“I did, but not soup,” Derek clarified, adding to the mystery.

“Did they add something?” Derek questioned, directing his gaze towards Ethan.

I exchanged a glance with Ethan, shook my head, and replied, “No.”

As Paulina joyfully ran into Derek’s arms, excitement radiated from her every giggle. “Da-dy!” she shouted, her enthusiasm contagious.

“Did you enjoy my baby?” Derek asked, his eyes reflecting the warmth of a doting father.

Paulina nodded, a gleeful affirmation that seemed to ease the tension lingering in the air. Ethan approached us.

I instinctively averted my gaze, a subtle attempt to avoid the discomfort that his presence stirred within me.

Attempting small talk, Ethan addressed me directly, “Mrs., how are you doing?” His question hung in the air, and I responded with a reserved “I’m okay,” my eyes fixated on the ground.

Paulina, ever the innocent soul, pointed excitedly at something, exclaiming, “Da-day.”

Derek, understanding the need to move on, guided Paulina with a gentle, “All right, sweetie, let’s go.”

However, he made an unusual request, “Stay here, Elena,” before leaving me alone with Ethan.

I wasn’t eager to face Ethan. The events of the previous night remained a blur, and I found myself walking away, hoping to distance myself from the unease that his proximity brought. Yet, he followed, closing the gap.

“Did you have a good night’s sleep last night?” Ethan inquired, his voice carrying a familiarity that unsettled me.

“Yes,” I replied, offering a curt response. His presence invoked a strange mix of emotions-familiarity coupled with a disconcerting lack of clarity.

“Really,” he replied, maintaining a smile, but the warmth had faded from his eyes. My gaze remained fixed on him, an unspoken challenge between us.

“Mrs., don’t stare at me like that; am I so horrible looking?” he questioned, his attempt at humor falling flat.

How could he think his appearance would distract me from the unsettling puzzle surrounding him?

“You ordered that soup, right?” I asked bluntly, refusing to let him sidestep the issue. The smile on his face vanished, replaced by a sudden unease.

“What are you saying, Mrs.?” he stammered, avoiding a direct answer. But I wasn’t willing to accept evasion.

“I know you ordered that soup,” I insisted, my voice resolute.

Despite his uneasy smile, Ethan replied, “Mrs., your husband ordered that soup.”

“Don’t deceive yourself. I’m not sick or having hallucinations,” I shouted, my frustration echoing through the corridor.

The exchange left me in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, and I stormed back to the resort, seeking solace within its walls.

Running up the stairs in haste, I collided with Han. The unexpected encounter momentarily disrupted my frantic escape.

“I apologize, Mrs.,” he said, displaying genuine concern. But my mind was consumed by the unresolved tension with Ethan.

“It’s okay,” I replied, brushing aside his apology, wiping away my tears.

Han’s genuine concern echoed through the corridor as he inquired, “Mrs., are you all right?”

“Yes,” I affirmed with a nod, downplaying the inner turmoil that lingered.

“But you are…” he began to express his concern, and I intercepted, “Mr. Han, it’s nothing.”

A warm smile graced Han’s face as he shifted the conversation, “Are you enjoying our place, Mrs.?”

His attempt to steer toward a lighter subject was met with my affirmative response. Despite the internal turmoil, I acknowledged the beauty of the surroundings.

“What about the food? Did you enjoy it?” Han continued, steering the conversation toward the culinary experience. I lowered my head, grappling with my own internal conflicts.

“Mrs., didn’t you enjoy the soup we served?” Han asked, directing my attention to a specific dish. Confused, I looked at him, prompting him to elaborate.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“Soup?” I queried, seeking clarity on his reference.

Han explained, “Yep, Soup is today’s breakfast special. We delivered it to everyone’s room.”

The revelation unveiled the source of my confusion – the morning culinary surprise.

My assumption that Ethan had orchestrated the soup delivery for me proved inaccurate.

“Mr. Han, the soup was wonderful. It appealed to me a lot,” I assured him with a kind smile. In doing so, I acknowledged the effort and culinary prowess of the resort’s chefs.

“My boss would be delighted if you guys were satisfied,” Han remarked with a smile, his genuine enthusiasm shining through. Grateful for the hospitality, I ventured to ask him a question.

“Mr. Han, may I ask you a question?” I inquired, and he promptly responded, “Sure, Mrs.”

I proceeded, “Have you seen Mr. Ethan’s wife and daughter?” Han gazed at me contemplatively before nodding in response.

“I didn’t see them, but I heard they lived in Spain. And he went to see them once a month,” he shared, providing me with a glimpse into Ethan’s family life.

“Ohh,” I acknowledged, though a subtle disappointment lingered. The realization that Ethan had a family in another part of the world tempered the fleeting hopes that had arisen within me.

“Thank you, Mr. Han,” I expressed my gratitude before making my way to the garden. The calming view of the sea beckoned, and I settled onto a swing, allowing the gentle sway to match the rhythm of my thoughts.

Ethan is not Paul. This fact echoed in my mind, challenging the persistent echoes of familiarity that accompanied his presence. Yet, each encounter seemed to stir an inexplicable reaction within me.

As I absorbed the serene surroundings, a voice disrupted the solitude. “It’s really lovely, isn’t it?” Ethan’s voice reached me from behind. Despite my initial resistance, he took a seat beside me, his gaze echoing the appreciation for the seascape.

I shifted my sight away, not wanting to engage in a conversation that might stir emotions within me.

However, Ethan continued, “Do you know, Mrs., why I built this resort here?”

His question piqued my interest, prompting me to turn towards him, curious about his motives.

“Because my wife likes this type of view,” he explained, revealing a glimpse of the personal sentiment that influenced the resort’s location.

“Your wife is very blessed to have you,” I responded, my eyes fixed on the horizon.

“No,” Ethan contradicted gently, redirecting his gaze towards me, “I’m so fortunate to have her.”

I looked at him and said, ‘You truly love her.’

‘So much,’ he replied, his gaze resting on my face.

‘But I did a lot of things wrong to her which I can’t forgive myself,’ he added.

He appeared to be pointing my attention to this. It seemed Paul was confessing his love. I drew my gaze away from him, the shared pain resonating between us. Trying to shift the focus, I asked, ‘Well, what about your daughter?’

After a little pause, ‘She is equally as sweet as my wife,’ he replied. The tenderness in his voice mirrored the love he held for his family.

‘What is her name?’ I asked. I could sense that his eyes were on me.

He said, ‘She is my angel.’

‘Is Angel her name?’ I asked, smiling.

He nodded in the negative way.

‘Then?’ I asked, eager to know the name that held significance for him.

He said, ‘If I say her name is Paulina, then.’ My heart skipped a beat. ‘Paulina.’

‘Yes, it’s a coincidence that our children have the same name,’ he said, laughing.

But I tightened my jaw, feeling the strangeness of the connection.

‘Mr. Ethan, we have a lot of things in common,’ I stated, a mix of emotions swirling within me.

He called my name, ‘Mrs. Elena.’

I fixed my gaze on him

“Do you know how blessed you are?” asked Ethan.

“Mr. Ethan, I don’t get it,” I said.

“Look at them,” he said, pointing behind me.

When I turned back, I spotted Derek and Paulina, sharing a moment of joy and laughter. The warmth in my heart swelled.

“Did you see?” Ethan asked.

My gaze was fixed on them, witnessing the simple yet profound beauty of their connection.

“You are the happiest woman in the world. You have your husband, the one who keeps you away from danger,” Ethan said, acknowledging Derek’s protective presence in my life.

Ethan is entirely right; Derek is always there to protect me. I was taken aback and stared at them in wonder.

“And the most important one is your daughter, who is the angel of yours and your love,” Ethan added, emphasizing the significance of the bond between mother and daughter.

These words echoed in my ear: “WHO IS THE ANGEL OF YOURS AND YOUR LOVE.” When I first heard him, I was taken aback, reflecting on the depth of the love I held for Paulina.

“Is that so?” I pondered silently.

Ethan remarked, “Your love is always with you,” drawing attention to the enduring nature of love that transcends physical presence.

Yes, Paul is always by my side. Ethan is entirely right. It’s my Paulina.

“Did you ever give your daughter a glance? She is your and his love’s angel,” Ethan said.

My eyes welled up with tears. What exactly have I done? I disregarded my love, our daughter. My hands were trembling as I glanced at them. Derek, my husband, tried so hard to say this to me. He constantly encouraged me to face my fears head-on.

She is Paul’s and my daughter. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. How could I have done that?

“Don’t be scared of her. Just hold your daughter if you miss him,” Ethan stated.

“JUST HUG YOUR DAUGHTER IF YOU MISS HIM!”