Once, my paranoid love

After some time had passed, Paul emerged from his room, searching for his father, William, who was nowhere to be found in the study room. Paul couldn’t help but wear a mischievous grin as he picked up a glass from the table, a subtle indication of his playful nature.

Then he made his way to his mother’s room. Inside, the room was shrouded in darkness, and Anne was soundly sleeping, her slumber seemingly deep and undisturbed. William was lying alongside her in an unusual and somewhat precarious position.

Paul put the glass that his father used and the half wine bottle on the table.

Paul stood there for a moment, observing the sight of his parents sleeping peacefully. But his presence did not go unnoticed, as Anne, still in a drowsy state, mumbled her concerns for William.

“Babe, get up on the bed properly, or you may fall.”

However, as her groggy eyes adjusted to the dim light, Anne sensed an intruder in the room and was startled. She inquired, “Who? Who is this?”

Paul swiftly identified himself, dispelling any concerns. “Mom,” he responded.

Anne, still puzzled, questioned, “What’s wrong, Paul?” Her concern for her son was evident in her voice, even in her half-asleep state.

Paul moved closer to Anne and whispered, “It’s okay, just lie down. You don’t have to get up, Mom.” His gentle words conveyed his intent to ensure her comfort.

“What’s wrong, Paul?” Anne inquired again, seeking an explanation for her son’s late-night visit.

Paul settled by her side, his touch soothing as he stroked her hair.

“Paul,” Anne gently called his name once more, her voice filled with a mother’s concern and love.

Paul, sitting beside her in the dimly lit room, responded with a warm smile, attempting to ease any worries that may have surfaced.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

Anne, her motherly instincts in full display, couldn’t help but sense that something might be troubling her son. She inquired, “What’s the matter with you, honey? Are you all right?”

Paul, still wearing that reassuring smile, assured her, “Yeah, I’m OK. I simply want to apologize.”

Anne’s heartwarming response reflected her unconditional love, understanding, and forgiveness. She spoke softly, “It’s all right, sweetie. I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt me, and I’m sure you didn’t mean to leave me.”

Paul, his demeanor filled with affection, took her hands into his. A peculiar detail caught Anne’s attention he was wearing gloves. It sparked her curiosity, and she couldn’t help but inquire, “But, promise me that you will forgive me for what I am about to do.”Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

Anne’s love for her son was undeniable, and she couldn’t fathom the cause of his apology. She asked, “Honey, I love you the most. Why are you saying this?”

And then, a more peculiar detail surfaced as she noticed the gloves he wore. “And why are you wearing gloves?” she inquired, her gaze fixated on his enigmatic attire.

Paul, with a grin that held a touch of mystery, pressed his face against Anne’s palm. His affectionate gesture was a testament to the deep bond they shared. “I love you, Mom,” he declared.

Anne’s response was equally affectionate, reaffirming the love that connected mother and son. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

The next morning, a heavy atmosphere lingered in the D’Souza Mansion. In William’s bedroom, a disturbing stillness enveloped the room, as he lay motionless in slumber. The police were at the scene, they were trying to awaken him with grim news weighing heavily on their shoulders.

One officer, understanding the gravity of the situation, attempted to console Paul, who was now present at the scene. His eyes were red from tears, and his voice quivered as he spoke. “I understand, Mr. Paul. Please be strong.”

Paul, struggling to comprehend the horrifying reality that had unfolded, found it challenging to articulate his thoughts. “Sir, I can’t understand how he did it. How did it happen? I can’t believe it. I wouldn’t have let her stay with him if I knew about it.”

The officer, his expression reflecting the somberness of the situation, offered Paul a word of explanation, though it brought little comfort. “Mr. Paul, it is apparent that she was choked to death. And, as you can see, your mother tried to save her by tweaking his chest.”

Paul could only nod in response, his emotions too overwhelming for words.

As the authorities continued to investigate, they turned their attention to William, who remained oblivious to the turmoil unfolding around him. It was only through persistent efforts that they managed to rouse him from his slumber, the reality of the situation dawning upon him with each call.

“Mr. William,” they called out, the urgency in their voices evident. Finally, after numerous attempts, William’s eyes fluttered open, and he was greeted by a scene of chaos and despair.

His head throbbed, and his surroundings blurred as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“Ahh!” William groaned, clutching his head as he attempted to steady himself. His vision cleared slowly, revealing the unfamiliar faces in his room.

“What exactly is going on here?” William demanded, his voice trembling with both confusion and frustration. He struggled to sit up, seeking answers to the myriad questions that swirled in his mind.

As he began to regain his bearings, his focus shifted, and he urgently inquired, “Who are you?”

The police officer, understanding the shock that William was experiencing, maintained a respectful tone in response. “Sir, I’m a police officer. We are here to investigate a serious matter, and we’ll need your cooperation.”

William, still dazed and unable to piece together the events that had transpired, turned gently to his side, his heart heavy with apprehension. “Anne!” he called out, his voice quivering with a mixture of worry and fear.

William’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. Panic and confusion enveloped him as he finally sprung from his bed, a sense of urgency compelling him to take action.

“Paul, what happened to her?” William inquired, his voice filled with a mixture of anguish and fear.

“You were with her last night, but you didn’t know what happened to her,” the officer asserted, his gaze probing for any signs of guilt or knowledge in William’s eyes.

“How is it, Mr. William?”

William, his face pale and his expression bewilderment.

“Please have a look at this, sir. Maybe he took it last night.” A police guy indicated a drug strip, offering it as a potential clue to the unfolding mystery.

A fellow officer took the drug strip and examined it closely. The room was filled with an unsettling silence as all eyes turned to the strip, hoping for some form of explanation or resolution.

The officer then pivoted to face William, an air of skepticism evident in his demeanor.

William extended his hand and implored to Paul, “Paul.” His voice quivered with a mix of desperation and hope.

However, Paul’s response was nothing short of chilling. His words cut through the heavy atmosphere, leaving everyone in the room stunned. “Mr. William, please don’t touch me. You killed my mother last night,” Paul accused, his voice dripping with accusation and disdain.

William’s heart sank as he struggled to comprehend the gravity of the allegation. “What? No,” he vehemently denied, his voice shaking with a mixture of anguish and disbelief.

Desperate to clear his name and refute the damning accusation, William turned to the officer and implored, “Officer, it’s a lie.” His voice quivered.

The officer, unrelenting in his pursuit of the facts, pressed further. “Tell us the truth, then. What happened the night before?” His questions loomed heavy in the room, demanding answers that would either confirm or dispel the ominous cloud of suspicion that hung over William.

The police interrogation room remained cloaked in a heavy silence, broken only by the stern voice of the lead officer who sought to unravel the mysteries of that fateful night.

“Is it conceivable that someone came to kill her? If that’s the case, please explain why the door was locked when we came,” the officer inquired, his words laden with skepticism as he delved deeper into the enigma before him.

William, still grappling with the bewildering events, offered his perspective. “I’m not sure, officer. What exactly are you saying? I also think I did not lock the door.”

His voice quivered with uncertainty, as he questioned the events that had led to the locked door, a detail that had left everyone perplexed.

The officer, however, pressed on, drawing a connection that cast a shadow of suspicion on William.

“Mr. William, it’s evident to us that you used drugs, and that something bad happened to you and her after that,” he stated with an air of finality, implying a damning accusation that thrust William into a maelstrom of turmoil.

“No, that’s a lie. I’m not the one who did it,” William vehemently protested, the weight of the accusations casting a cloud of disbelief and desperation over him..

In a sudden and startling turn of events, William, driven by a surge of panic and fear, pointed an accusatory finger at Paul.

“It’s him,” William declared, his eyes fixated on his son.