Once, my paranoid love

Derek’s words were laced with affectionate mockery as he affectionately teased me. “You’re a dummy, girl. Why are you making this face? It didn’t happen to me. It’s just a minor cut.”

His nonchalant tone only seemed to intensify my concern, and I found myself gripping his hands tightly. There was a deep well of emotions bubbling within me, and I couldn’t help but let them spill out.

I averted my gaze, my voice hushed as I confessed, “You are the only person I can trust after my mother.” The vulnerability in my words hung in the air, a testament to the depth of my feelings.

“Elena,” Derek began, and his voice carried a mix of emotion and tenderness. But I was hesitant to meet his eyes. His question hung in the air, a silent plea for me to confront my own feelings.

With a gentle command, he urged me to look at him-a gesture of assurance. He was unyielding in his resolve, determined to ensure that I knew the sincerity of his concern.

I hesitated, my head still lowered, but suddenly, Derek pulled me closer to him. My face was pressed against his chest, and I buried my emotions in the safety of his embrace. I didn’t want to face the world at this moment; I didn’t want to acknowledge the pain that seemed to follow me wherever I went.

In my mind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had brought suffering to those around me. Here, I was seen as the harbinger of chaos and despair, the one who carried the burden of darkness. It was a heavy weight to bear.

“Elena.” Derek’s voice, filled with determination, broke through my defenses. He held my chin gently and forced me to meet his gaze. His eyes, filled with an intensity of emotion, locked onto mine.

With that single, unwavering look, he shattered the walls around my heart. In his eyes, I saw not only concern but a profound connection. I realized that in Derek, I had found a sanctuary, a place where I could let go of my fears and insecurities.

As I finally met his gaze, my heart began to mend.

“What happened?” he asked softly, “Everything is okay now.” His grip on me tightened as if to reassure me that I was not alone in facing whatever weighed on my heart.

The words came tumbling out, my voice quivering with the weight of the confession. “Everyone bears the cost of my actions. If I hadn’t dragged my mother to the park that day, she would be alive today. I’m to blame for her death,” I explained, the words heavy on my tongue. The pain of that loss was a burden I carried with me every day.

“Elena, no. Don’t hold anything against yourself,” Derek said, his voice resolute and filled with compassion. His unwavering support was a lifeline I clung to in my darkest moments.

I couldn’t help but share another truth, another wound that ached in my heart. “My father believes the same thing, Derek,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. The weight of their blame, the belief that I was responsible for the tragedies that had befallen our family-was a heavy cross to bear.

Derek’s response was immediate, a fervent lament for the self-blame that weighed on my soul. “You can’t say that it’s you, and it happened because of you,” he insisted. His words were a balm for my wounded spirit, a reminder that I should not bear the guilt of the past alone.

“Did you know that you are also someone’s happiness?” Derek’s question was a revelation, and I found myself looking at him with wide eyes. In the midst of my own turmoil, I had never considered the possibility that I could bring happiness to someone’s life.

A warm smile broke across my face, a rare and genuine expression of joy. Derek’s vulnerability and the depth of his care had touched me in a way I had never expected. “Don’t be sad,” I whispered, my voice filled with tenderness and affection.

“Shut up,” he said as he drew me to his chest. He probably doesn’t want his blushing face to be seen.

As I nestled against his chest, he suggested, “You should stay here for a while.” The idea was tempting; the allure of his comforting presence almost too hard to resist. I agreed, knowing that the refuge of his arms was where I longed to be.

But there was something that had been weighing on my mind-a question that needed an answer. “Okay, but please tell me where Paul is,” I inquired. Derek’s reaction was a moment of silence, a brief pause that left me with a hint of unease.

Then he broke the silence, his words measured and calm. “I dropped him off at the hospital, Elena. I apologize for not informing you,” Derek admitted. My heart swelled with gratitude and relief. Paul was safe, and the burden of worry that had been pressing down on me began to lift.

“He’s in the hospital now,” I acknowledged, taking a moment to process the information. Derek listened attentively, his eyes locked onto mine as if searching for any trace of worry or doubt.

I reassured him, “Please don’t apologize. I understand you were busy, so maybe that’s why you didn’t have time to speak.” A smile crept onto my lips, an expression of understanding and gratitude. It was Derek’s actions that truly mattered, and he had ensured Paul’s safety and well-being.

“I’m glad you took him to the hospital. I’m hoping he’ll get better soon.” The words held a mixture of emotions, the emptiness that Paul’s absence brought and the relief that he was out of harm’s way. I wished for him to find happiness and a brighter future.

Derek nodded quietly, his grip around me growing even tighter. But then, in a moment of intimacy, he nipped at my earlobe and whispered, “Elena,” in a husky, affectionate tone.

Thrills coursed through my body as his touch sent shivers down my spine. Every moment with Derek was electric, igniting a fire within me that I couldn’t ignore. As I let go of my grasp, my gaze locked onto his, and I found myself captivated by the intensity of his eyes.

Paul was on the path to recovery, embarking on a new chapter in his life. It was a fresh start for him, and I couldn’t help but think that perhaps it was time for me to do the same, to start a new life with Derek.

The position I had taken, sitting on his lap, was undeniably intimate, and the chemistry between us was palpable. The desire and connection between us had been simmering, and it was ready to boil over.

But just as Derek was about to lean in for a kiss, a wave of nausea overcame me, and I abruptly leaped from his lap, making a dash for the bathroom. Derek was close on my heels, concern etched into his features.

“Elena,” he called out in a tense voice, his hand gently assisting me in moving my hair. I coughed and choked, my body rebelling against the sudden bout of sickness. Derek’s anxiety was evident as he hovered nearby, desperately seeking answers.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“Cough! Cough!” I sputtered, my throat raw and my body trembling from the intensity of the moment.

“Elena, what’s the matter?”

“It’s all right now,” I whispered, steadying myself as I stepped out of the bathroom. Derek was there to support me, his strong arm wrapped around mine, guiding me carefully to the bed.

My mind was racing with thoughts, and I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had taken hold of me. Something was amiss, and I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I’d missed my menstrual cycle, and the implications of that fact were starting to weigh heavily on me. Could it be possible? The mere thought sent a shiver down my spine.

I clutched Derek’s arm with both hands, seeking comfort and reassurance in his presence. He sat me down on the bed and picked up the phone, a sense of urgency in his movements.

“What are you up to?” I asked, my voice trembling with worry.

Derek glanced at me, his eyes filled with concern. “Let me call Lucy.”

“Derek.” I hesitantly called his name, a sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach.

He turned his attention back to me, his expression filled with a mixture of love and reassurance. “Everything will be alright, darling,” he said, his words meant to soothe my fears. But my face had turned pale after hearing his words, the weight of the situation pressing down on me.

Lucy was urged by Derek to come home as soon as possible. I knew they were concerned about me, but I couldn’t help feeling that this was a situation best dealt with privately.

“I’m okay, Derek. I have vomited once,” I assured him, trying to downplay the situation.

Derek, however, was not easily swayed. He asked, “Did you eat anything?”

I shook my head. “No, just-”

But before I could finish my sentence, Derek interrupted, determination in his voice. “Let me make chicken soup for you.”

I frowned, feeling a mix of gratitude and stubbornness. “Please don’t,” I pleaded.

He simply disregarded my advice, as if there was no other option. “Today, I’ll prepare the soup for you,” he declared before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

I sighed, knowing that arguing with Derek when he had made up his mind was often a fruitless endeavor. I lay back on the bed, my thoughts filled with wondering what would happen.