As I saw the text from Davis, my mind became clouded. It was barely morning, and I was already fed up with everything. Now the text is for sure pushing me to the edge. I am not going to like whatever awaits because of Davis and his hidden intentions. The guy didn't like me from Day 1 for no reason, and now, he is expecting my presence with those hopeful eyes, which is a big red flag.
I know this has to be something related to Rowan; it always was about him and because of him. I can't find any other reason for his hate other than Rowan.
The night went sleepless; no workout brought any result in bed, and the images were playing all night. I was barely able to sleep for a few minutes, and Davis's text made sure I couldn't get a wink of sleep anymore. My mind was in turmoil, full of theories.
I have not recovered from the old wound caused by Rowan. He is managing to give one blow after another and successfully opening it again and again. Yesterday's wound is still fresh, I am still in pain, and something is waiting for me, and there will be one more scratch on the same wound. I am sure of it.
This kind of suffering is unwelcoming and unfathomable. I don't know why everything about Rowan hurts me so much. Yeah, granted, I like him, maybe much more than that, but this ache feels like it's not new and it's old. Everything about him is not normal, not new, and nothing makes sense. His every little act has a strong effect on me. The pull was taking tiny steps and getting stronger than before. The pang was profound, and the ache always felt fresh.
Why? Why him? What about him? Why is everything circling him? Why do I feel like he is my only option? If I continue, more questions arise, but there are still no answers. I don't know how I am going to find one.
I sighed while watching the sealing. My eyes were burning with no sleep, my body was craving rest, my throat was dry, and my stomach was growling from midnight. Instagram is full of stories of Rowan and his friends about yesterday's event. Rowan's stories are filled with Isabella and him. The way they are staring at each other is telling the story behind the photo; the eyes were speaking for them, and the smile was like a confirmation. Things started to get too real, and this isn't how I thought I was spending my semester break.
I slowly got up from the bed; my eyes fell on the room, scanning, and it was intact. Nothing was out of place except my clothes, which were scattered on the floor. I walked toward the bathroom; I think I should get over it with Davis and find out what it's all about. The hot water made me whimper a little; it was hotter than usual to calm my nerves and the ache. A visible ache can be easily taken care of, unlike an internal one, which is fresh and slowly bleeding.
By wrapping the towel, I was in front of my wardrobe. Once I was done, I walked down. As I sat at the dining table, my caretaker placed the food in front of me with concerned eyes. The maids were stealing glances, but no one dared to speak even a word. I don't know why they are terrified of me or what I did to make them act that way. They easily get my mood swings and act accordingly. My caretaker is always a step ahead, making sure of everything despite my coldness. She is just there from the beginning, caring for no reason. My dad pays a hefty amount, and there is no condition that she should care for me, but she always does. Once, she went against my dad on a minor matter and stood for me. She never questioned or corrected me, but was there for me until now. That's strange; I never notice these things, and strangely, today something shifted in me. My caretaker's concerned eyes are stirring something in me, and I never thought I could feel such things. Once again, my eyes fell on her; she stood stiff beside me, and her eyes were red. Why the hell does she always care for me, even though I have such a cold attitude? I don't know anything about her, even the small, tiny details, except her name. She is always there; I don't know why.
The spoon dropped on the plate. I lost the balance for a second, and it dropped, making a strong sound in the whole mansion. It echoed; the sound was loud, making me freeze for a second. I stared at the plate; the spoon barely managed to stay in the plate, and my thoughts drifted to Rowan. Would I ever be this lucky in my life? The answer made me dizzy for a second; the answer was simple with no complications, like an open book.
I abruptly stood from the chair and started walking. The car was waiting for me, and by giving the address, I ushered the driver, who once again looked concerned. Granted, they have known me since childhood still. What the heck with these concerned looks? I didn't mask my face with the coldness; once again, I slipped for the second time.
The car stopped in one of the famous five-star hotels, and Devis was outside, waiting for me. I walked where he was, and he smiled broadly as he saw me, and his eyes were shining for some reason. "You got me worried; I almost dialed your number." He spoke with a cheeky grin on his face. "The timing is perfect, and I don't want you to miss out on anything." My heart started hammering, and my breath caught at seeing his desperation. I know I am going to regret this, and I am too stubborn to back out.
He started walking toward the hotel, and I followed him. The hotel was wide and spacious, and I have visited it many times for business meetings. It has 8 to 10 floors, I guess. He was walking ahead, toward the backyard, toward the party hall. "I am taking you from the back side so that you can witness everything through the window, rather than directly." I didn't respond to that. "You will thank me for this." My mind was already in a mess, and my mouth was sealed.
We were at the window, and the whole view of the hall was visible. The hall was buzzing with friends of Rowan, of course, Rowan, who was hanging something, and lots of girls were present. Rowan and his friends were decorating the hall, and the excitement was palpable. I questionably looked at Devis, who was beside me, watching everything. "It's Isabella's birthday." I nodded at that, once again, my eyes glued to Rowan's every move.
He was walking swiftly around the hall, guiding and helping his friends and also giving instructions. I don't know why he is risking so much when he can appoint people to do the task. A more important question was, 'Why is he celebrating her birthday?' The answer was on the tip of my tongue, but I don't want to admit it. Something is holding me back from admitting the truth; maybe there is still hope in me, or stubbornness to admit defeat.
The hall was decorated with pink balloons everywhere and golden glitter. Girls and their obsession with the pink colour. Give me a damn break. Other than that, it was damn colorful, creative, and amazing. The hall was fully decorated; every corner was covered, and the place where she was going to stand looked stunning. The balloons were in heart shapes; a large cake stood in the middle, and the flowers were on the floor, probably from where she walked.
Once they were done, they started to clean the area, and a few girls ran out. The lights were off. We were behind the curtains, not easily recognizable, but still, we moved aside to be safer. My heart was beating too fast, there was persistent fear, and I started to bite my lips to stop from trembling. There is a pit in my stomach, suffocation, and a sinking feeling.
Everyone cheered, and we were both back on the scene. Isabella was smiling happily with shyness. Rowan was beside Isabella, guiding her through every step by taking her hand because she was blindfolded. She wore a long golden dress; this girl always amazes me with her looks and with the dress she wears. She looks stunning as usual, today even more; she is glorious. She has stepped into her 18th birthday looking more nurtured and absolutely beautiful. The woman parts are perking up, screaming within her. She was glowing and welcoming.
Slowly, Rowan opened her blindfold, and she gasped when she saw the decoration. Her eyes started scanning every detail and twinkled in return. Everyone started screaming and cheering, wishing her a happy birthday. She thanked everyone and hugged Rowan tightly. Once again, his friends cheered.
Rowan guided her toward the cake. She wished for something and cut the cake; of course, the first bite was given to Rowan, and in return, he did the same. 'He is going to ask her to be his girlfriend,' Davis spoke, and on cue, Rowan was on his knees, and she gasped adorably. Like she didn't know this damn thing was happening. My clutch on the bar window was tighter, and my knuckles were turning white. The hall went silent; by giving her a flower, he asked her to be his girlfriend, and she was in tears. Right, why wouldn't she be? She said yes; once again, cheers erupted, and that was the last punch. They kissed, and I watched everything. The kiss started slowly, sinking perfectly, and was passionate. Nothing unethical happened due to the crowd, but nevertheless, it was damn perfect. I never kissed anyone, but I could make out the way they engaged.
I was too stunned to move from the spot, and I glued my eyes solely on Rowan. Who was shy, smiling and all red. He couldn't contain his happiness, and he picked her up and swung her a few times.
He wants to spend his life with her, and he made it official. He chose her, his happiness. He looks damn content with her, and his smile is contagious. The fear when he proposed was replaced with relief when she said yes, and he was on cloud nine. For a minute, he went silent, not knowing how to react, but finally, when he reacted, the expression was priceless and divine. I melted at the expression; granted, it's not because of or for me. This is the life he chose. I repeated the sentence, and I don't know why.
Everything felt numb, and something started burning in me. My legs were about to give up, but I, being stubborn, held the bar tighter to witness everything. I couldn't blink; I couldn't move, and the wound was deep inside me. It's going to leave a permanent scar internally, which I could only witness and can feel when my heart aches.
He was the base of my life, and I let him. I gave control over everything. My whole world started to revolve around him, and now it has started to collapse. I don't know where to hide to rescue myself, and running was out of the question. He is not mine, never was to begin with, and never will be, as his happiness lies somewhere else.
I was drowning without an anchor.
"Dante," Davis called me with a soft voice. Strange, he could use this voice toward me, and the moment was perfect. I didn't turn. I couldn't budge from the position. I want to witness everything, every second of it. "I have known Rowan since childhood. He is not gay, Dante, never was and never will be." Words were slow, and I consumed every word, reread it, and stored every word. "He was 10 when he met Isabella for the first time at a party. He couldn't take his eyes off her, and things started revolving around her." Strange, the story feels too familiar. "He was there wherever she was, including schools and college. His first and last crush. He never saw any other girl the way he saw her. He was kind of obsessed. I have witnessed every emotion of Rowan's Dante. His pain, his ache, his body shaming, and other things." He heaved a long sigh.
Both Rowan and Isabella sat on a chair, chatting and eating something. Their smile was never-ending and mesmerizing. "He likes her so much; you have no idea about it." I wanted to cough at the absurd, but I couldn't and I wouldn't. "As you are watching, you can make out how happy he is, and please let him be; he deserves this. Isabella is his happiness, nothing else. No one can make him smile that way, and it's reserved only for her." That was like a slap on my face, and every word was true, and I have witnessed it on more than one occasion. "That includes you, too; you can never make him this happy." One more slap; it hit too hard. The slap felt so real, and the words hit so hard. Is it true? The question plopped into my mind, and the answer was in front of me, in their small world, forgetting everything else.
"I have noticed you are getting obsessed." I wanted to correct him, that I already was, but I didn't want to fear him. "I keep noticing you, from the beginning, and things went too fast around Rowan. I don't know how it happened, but please leave him alone." My dad had given pretty much the same advice differently.
'Leave the boy alone, Dante; you will possess him; you will be obsessed; he is not the key; don't drag him into your problem; you will suffocate him and so on.'
Every fucking person saying the damn thing. I am obsessed. So bloody what? I will possess. I am not a damn devil or demon; you will suffocate him like hell, I would.
Don't drag him into your problem. Now, why the hell wouldn't I, when he shows the bloody symptoms? I can sleep without anything entering my mind; that's a kind of miracle. The touch always feels magnetic; the pull is always present and pulling me even harder toward him. The smile does the damn things to me and those eyes. Familiar, and I don't know how. I may be a damn kid, but I'm mature enough to understand and grasp things. These are not some random things happening to me. I know in my gut there is something about Rowan, and I don't know what it is.
My dad's word: 'Stay away; you both don't know what you want in your life.' Maybe Rowan doesn't, but heck, I know what I want in my life. The things he does around me and my nonresponsive south part are always responsive in his presence. That's not something to ignore completely, kid or not.
Rowan's dad: 'Stay away from my son.' My dad, 'Leave him alone, Dante.' I am fucking going to do that, from today and from this second.
My knuckles turned white. Everyone started dispersing from the room. Rowan and Isabella were side by side; his hold on her waist was secure and guarded.
For now, I am going to give them what they are desperately waiting for. For now, I wouldn't become a hindrance to him. For now, I will take a step back. For now, I will let Rowan go. For now, I will allow everyone to enjoy their victory.
For now.
Resolutely, I faced Davis, who was observing me keenly, holding his breath. I approached him, facing him closely, and spoke. "You won." Without another word, I started walking toward my car.
For now, they won.