Ash's pov ;
I returned to my apartment, and throughout the way, I was just cursing that bastard. He has really lost his mind.
But when he asked, "How many have you slept with since leaving me, huh?"
I couldn't hold myself back from slapping him across the face. His words hurt me deeply because he accused me of sleeping with no one but my own friend, Noah.
He's just a cheap-minded person. How can he think so poorly of me and accuse me of having an affair when all along, I was loyal to him and he was the one who cheated on me?
I have never loved someone like I loved him, and still love him. No one can compare to him, not in a million years.
The pain of him thinking so inadequately of me makes me miserable. And even though we have separated, his words still affect me.
I wanted to get rid of this love for him, but it doesn't seem to be happening. And today when our bodies touched, his skin against mine, my heart ached, and desire rushed through me.
I hated it. I'm pathetic because I couldn't get over him. I don't understand what part of him I'm so obsessed with that no matter what he does…I can't seem to let him go.
Maybe because only he has the power to tame me, only he could keep me from completely going insane. A part of me that I never want to encounter again.
How can I feel like this, and how can I not forget him when he was so cold to me? He hates me and keeps ruining my life, yet my heart is still yearning for him.
Am I even normal? The answer is no. And I'm aware of it.
A knock on the door disrupted my train of thought. When I opened the door, Noah hugged me tightly.
"I was so worried about you. Thank god you're okay."
I hugged him back. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry."
"I'm sorry, Ash. He forcefully took you away, I tried to stop him but his stupid friend was. That annoying, sly fox wouldn't let me go, and then Elijah. He disappeared with you in the club, and I couldn't find you anywhere. I was scared something bad happened to you."
I have never seen his face twisting in so much disgust for someone. It didn't seem for Elijah alone. Did something happen between him and Elijah's friend?
Oh, I pity his friend then. Because an annoyed Noah could make you wish you were never born. He can be such a handful sometimes. I wonder how much that guy suffered from Noah's hands last night.
"It's fine, Noah. Everything's alright. I'm not hurt, I just have a headache."
"That bastard didn't do anything to you...right? Tell me everything. I'll kick his ass if he did something to you."
He was still cursing Elijah and his friend, but I didn't have the strength to talk about him.
I shook my head, a bitter smile on my lips. "No, nothing happened. I was just drunk, and passed out. So he brought me to the hotel, cleaned me, and helped me to sleep."
Noah's face contorted in disbelief. "Why would he do that? You know that asshole is a monster, right?"
I didn't reply, not knowing what else to say.
"Can you make me coffee, please?" I changed the topic. "My head is killing me."
Noah nodded and walked to the kitchen. "Sure."
He came back soon with coffee and a plate of sandwiches, and set it down on the table in front of the sofa.
"Sit and eat. You must be hungry. I'll check on the news."
I sat on the sofa and picked up the sandwich, taking a bite. I was hungry and the sandwiches tasted good.
"How's the things in the company going on?" I asked and his face drooped.
"Not good after your ex-husband stole all of our clients. But I'm doing my best."
"I'm sorry, Noah."
He waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. But I have something for you. There's a movie announcement party coming up next week. There would be actors and famous directors. I'll try to introduce you to them. So, just be prepared, alright."
As I listened, I suddenly felt a wave of panic rise in my chest. My face must have betrayed me because Noah looked at me, concern etched on his face. "You okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."
I couldn't bring myself to tell him how nervous I get whenever I have to meet directors due to my past.
Right then, my phone rang. An unknown number flashed on the screen. I hesitated but picked up.
"Hello?" It was Samantha. Her voice was snappy, with no preamble. "Listen carefully. Mom is coming back from abroad. And she's going to stay for a while this time. So come back to the house."
And just like that, she hung up before letting me answer.
I sat there, frozen. The news hit me like a punch to the gut. Noah noticed immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice gentle.
"My mom is coming back," I said quietly. The sympathetic look he gave me said it all—he understood. Noah knew about my complicated relationship with my mother, and the trauma that came with it. "I can't deal with her right now."
His sympathetic look grounded me again. He had no idea about the full extent of my past, the dark details that still haunt me.
"Are you going to stay at your family house?" he asked cautiously.
I shook my head. "No, I'll visit her once, just to be polite. But I can't live there."
I'd rather die than go back to that where everything started.
Mom never treated me like her son. She always wanted a girl, and Samantha fulfilled that desire. Samantha was her princess, the one who could do no wrong, while I was the unwanted, unloved child. She lavished love and attention on Samantha, leaving me in the cold.
But I always knew why Samantha always hated me.
Despite being much younger, I always outshone her academically. From a young age, I was a prodigy. I won maths competitions, and science fairs, and even skipped grades.
My achievements should have made Mom proud, but instead, they only seemed to deepen her resentment. Samantha, too, resented me. She couldn't stand that her younger brother was always in the spotlight for his intellect.
But my intelligence came with a price. I was always considered different from others, abnormal even.
Other kids sensed it and kept their distance. They never invited me to play, and never included me in their games. They always laughed at me and ignored me.
But I never felt upset. Instead of feeling hurt, I felt a burning anger. It consumed me, filling the void left by my mother's neglect and my sister's jealousy.
I remember the cold, chilling feeling of isolation. The way other kids whispered about me, how teachers would look at me with a mix of awe and pity.
I was a genius, but I was also a freak. My anger and outbursts, whenever they would come out, were furious and uncontrollable. I would lash out, break things, and scream. It scared people, and pushed them even further away from me.
But I never cared. I hated them all equally.
"Why can't you just be normal?" my mother would say. "Why can't you be more like Samantha?"
I never had an answer for her. How could I explain the storm inside me, the relentless pressure to be something I wasn't?