Maya was still holding onto her phone in her left hand, shocked at what she had just heard. It felt like she was daydreaming. As she was lost in her thoughts, her phone beeped. She checked the notification and saw that it was a message from Ryan.
Reluctantly, she opened it, wondering what he had to say. The message read, "I'm sorry about that, Maya." She saw the text message had been marked as read, but she didn't respond.
Ryan texted again, "Are you there?" Yet again, she didn't respond. She was too confused and hurt to reply. She needed time to process what had just happened and decide what to do next.
Maya sat in silence, her heart pounding in her chest. She read Ryan's messages over and over again, her mind a whirl of confusion and disbelief. She had so many questions, but no answers. Who was the woman in the background? Why did Ryan hang up so abruptly? And why was he apologizing?
She wanted to respond, to demand answers, but she found herself at a loss for words. She stared at the screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but no words came. She was too shocked, too hurt to respond.
As the minutes ticked by, Maya felt a strange sense of emptiness. She had been so excited, so hopeful about her budding relationship with Ryan. But now, she felt like she had been punched in the gut. She felt betrayed, deceived.
With a heavy sigh, Maya put her phone down. She needed time to process, to figure out what she was feeling. She needed to decide what she was going to do next. But for now, she just needed to be alone with her thoughts. She needed to heal.
As her phone continued to ring, Maya pushed it away, the sound grating on her nerves. She got up from the table and walked over to the window, staring out at the world outside. The city was bustling with life, oblivious to her turmoil.
To calm her racing mind, Maya decided to engage in some activities. She turned on some soothing music, letting the rhythm and lyrics wash over her. She made herself a cup of coffee, the warmth and aroma serving as a comforting presence.
She then picked up a book she had been meaning to read. The engaging storyline and interesting characters provided a much-needed escape from her current predicament. As she delved deeper into the narrative, her surroundings faded away, leaving only her and the world within the pages.
She decided to distract herself, to give her mind a break from the relentless questions and confusion. She put on some soft music, the soothing melodies filling the room. She made herself a cup of tea, the warmth of the mug comforting in her hands.
Maya then moved to her couch, wrapping herself in a cozy blanket. She picked up a book from the coffee table, losing herself in the fictional world within its pages. The characters and their problems were a welcome distraction from her own.
And as the hours passed, Maya found her mind slowly calming down. The music, the tea, the book - they all helped her find a sense of peace amidst the chaos. She wasn't ready to face the situation yet, but she felt better equipped to do so when the time came.
For now, she just needed to heal. And she was taking the first steps towards doing just that.
****
The night of the Gala had finally arrived. Victor Vane was crashed out on Ms. Isabella's couch, snoozing like a baby. Unnoticed by him, she ran her hand gently down his mug to his chest. She kept at it until he stirred slightly, coming back from dreamland. Sensing this, she put the brakes on, and he was back to sawing logs.
She got back to it, but this time, Victor woke up and caught her red-handed. He gave her the stink eye, his peepers filled with questions. The room was as quiet as a mouse, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. What was gonna go down next was anyone's guess. The night of the Gala had just taken a wild turn.
"Ms Isabella," he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper. "What in Sam Hill are you doing?"
Ms Isabella, caught like a deer in headlights, stammered, "I... I was just..."
Victor sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You were just what?" he asked, his tone as cold as ice.
"I was just checking if you were okay," she replied, trying to sound casual. "You were out cold."
Victor looked at her for a moment, then burst out laughing. "Well, ain't you a piece of work," he said, shaking his head. "Next time, just wake me up, alright?"
Ms. Isabella blushed, a sheepish grin on her face. "Alright, Victor," she said. "Next time, I'll wake you up."
"Victor, today is the Gala night," Ms. Isabella said, her voice filled with a mix of excitement and seriousness. "You do not want to miss what you've worked so hard for. Get yourself ready."
She pointed towards her guest bathroom. "My bathroom is that way," she added.
Victor's sight still blurry from sleep, squinted in the direction she was pointing. He pushed himself off the couch, his movements sluggish and unsteady. He staggered a couple of times, but managed to right himself.
"Alright, Ms. Isabella," he said, his voice still thick with sleep. "I'll get ready."
With that, he made his way towards the bathroom, leaving Ms. Isabella alone in the room.
Despite her advanced age, Ms. Isabella possessed a youthful spirit that refused to be tamed. Her grand, sprawling mansion echoed with the silence of the night.
She tiptoed through the opulent corridors, her curiosity piqued by a young man. Her desire for him was so intense that she found herself acting without thinking.
Victor was in the bathroom, oblivious to Ms. Isabella's approach. She tiptoed all the way to the bathroom door, unnoticed.