After Mark and the other recipients received their awards, the stage emptied, and the attendees began to mingle. My thoughts, however, remained fixated on Christopher Hemsworth, who seemed to have noticed me throughout the ceremony. The realization left me in a daze, my mind whirling with possibilities and emotions. Lost in my reverie, I suddenly felt a hand on my waist, jolting me back to reality. I turned around abruptly, only to find Anvir, my boyfriend, standing there. He was a doctor as well, and naturally, he was present at this event. Anvir started talking, his voice a constant stream of words, but I struggled to focus on what he was saying. My thoughts kept drifting back to Christopher. Anvir was speaking incessantly about his own potential and his aspirations to succeed in business. His hand remained possessively on my waist, but his words barely registered. I was too preoccupied with the earlier encounter, my mind replaying the moment when Christopher's eyes had locked onto mine.
As Anvir continued to prattle on, I felt a sudden, chilling sensation creeping up my shoulder. Instinctively, I glanced in that direction and was met with the sight of Christopher Hemsworth's piercing gaze. His eyes were fixed on me, and the intensity of his stare sent a shiver down my spine. There was an unmistakable anger in his expression, as if something about the scene before him deeply irritated him. My heart skipped a beat, caught between the present moment and the lingering memory of our earlier interaction. Anvir's words became even more distant, mere background noise to the charged atmosphere that had enveloped me. Christopher's presence dominated my senses, his silent scrutiny speaking volumes more than any words could.
I felt a tumult of emotions—confusion,worries , and an unnameable tension that seemed to thrum in the air between us. The contrast between Anvir's mundane chatter and Christopher's potent aura was stark, leaving me torn and uncertain. Every fiber of my being was acutely aware of Christopher's proximity, his unspoken disapproval seeping into my consciousness and making my pulse quicken. Caught in the midst of this emotional whirlwind, I struggled to maintain my composure. The weight of Christopher's gaze bore down on me, and I couldn't help but wonder what had provoked such a reaction. The intensity of his anger was both alarming and inexplicably thrilling, adding another layer of complexity to the already bewildering situation. In that moment, with Anvir's hand on my waist and Christopher's eyes burning into mine, I felt as though I stood at a crossroads.
Maybe it was because of the accident outside. I tried to focus more on Anvir and my family, who were engaged in conversation with him. I forced myself to listen to their words, even though my mind kept drifting back to Christopher Hemsworth's intense gaze. Suddenly, Melissa started speaking to Anvir, her voice loud and clear. "Anvir, you really are great for making Evelyn your girlfriend," she said, a saccharine smile on her face. "It's amazing that you still want to marry her, even though she didn't become a doctor like the rest of us. It shows how much you care, doesn't it?" Her words felt like a knife twisting in my heart. Tension coiled around me, tightening with each passing second. I could see the faint smirk on Ary's face, her eyes glinting with amusement. My father's expression was neutral, but I knew that beneath his composed exterior, he was pleased with Melissa's remarks. My mother, ever the diplomat, maintained a polite smile, but I could sense her silent agreement. I wanted to disappear, to escape the weight of their expectations and the humiliation of Melissa's words. My heart sank deeper with every syllable she uttered. The tension in the air was suffocating, pressing down on me until I could barely breathe. Anvir, oblivious to the turmoil inside me, laughed and responded, "Well, love isn't just about career choices. Evelyn has so many wonderful qualities that go beyond that. She's unique in her own way." His attempt at consolation did little to alleviate the ache in my chest. Instead, it only emphasized the gap between us, the unspoken disappointments and shattered dreams that lay between us like an unbridgeable chasm.
At that moment, Mark appeared, bringing Christopher with him. "Christopher wanted to know more about the family who raised a brilliant doctor like me," he announced proudly. As Christopher made his way into our circle, everyone around us was excited and stunned. Someone of his stature wanted to talk to us? Their reactions were of sheer disbelief. Melissa and Ary immediately adjusted their posture and attire, trying to present themselves as perfectly as possible in front of his discerning eyes. Anvir remained beside me, his hand still possessively wrapped around my waist.
Mark began the introductions, his voice brimming with pride. "Meet my father, Daniel Bernard, and my mother, Marilyn Bernard," he said, gesturing to each of them in turn. Christopher nodded politely, his eyes scanning each face with keen interest. Slowly, Mark moved through the family members. "This is my sister, Melissa, and this is Gian, and this is Ary." Each sibling greeted Christopher, their expressions ranging from awe to self-consciousness.
Finally, Mark reached me. "And this is Evelyn," he said, his tone warm. Our eyes met, and I felt a jolt of recognition and something else—something more profound and unsettling. Christopher's gaze flicked to Anvir's hand on my waist, his eyes darkening with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "And this is Anvir Adams, Evelyn's boyfriend," Mark continued, his voice steady. Christopher's eyes turned a shade darker, almost imperceptibly so, but enough for me to notice. Anvir, ever eager to make a good impression, extended his hand for a handshake. Christopher glanced at the proffered hand, his expression unreadable. "Pleasure," he said curtly, but he did not take Anvir's hand. Instead, he turned his gaze back to me, the intensity in his eyes making my heart race.
Everyone around us was silent, the tension palpable. I could see the confusion and curiosity on my family's faces, and the discomfort on Anvir's. My own heart was pounding in my chest, a mix of anxiety and something else—something I couldn't name but felt deeply. Mark, ever the diplomat, quickly filled the silence. "Christopher has been incredibly supportive of our hospital, especially during the difficult times. We owe him a great deal of gratitude." Christopher nodded, his eyes never leaving mine. "It's my pleasure to support such an esteemed institution," he said, his voice smooth and commanding. As the conversation resumed around us, I couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had just happened. The connection between us, though unspoken, was undeniable. I felt as though I was standing on the edge of something profound, something that could change everything.
While everyone was engaged in conversation, I felt Anvir's hand start to move across my back, making me increasingly uncomfortable. The sensation was awkward and unwelcome, and I wished desperately for him to stop touching me. The discomfort must have been evident on my face because when I glanced at Christopher, he was watching me with a twisted expression, his eyes filled with a deep, inexplicable concern. I noticed his fist clenching, his knuckles white with tension. Trying to subtly extricate myself from Anvir's grip, I found it impossible to do so without causing a scene. Anvir leaned in and whispered in my ear, "I want to talk to you in private." His voice was low and insistent. I hesitated, feeling a wave of unease wash over me. My parents wouldn't take kindly to Anvir complaining about my reluctance. They had always seen him as the perfect match for me, with his impeccable family background and promising future in medicine. My parents had always believed Anvir was my ideal future fiancé, and they often made it clear that they wanted us to be together. The pressure from them was immense, and I didn't have the strength to go against their wishes. Resigned, I nodded in agreement, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.
As I reluctantly agreed, Christopher's gaze intensified, and his eyes bore into mine with a mixture of frustration and something that looked like anger. His jaw tightened, and I could see the barely contained fury in his expression. He seemed to be silently urging me to resist, to stand my ground, but I felt powerless against the weight of my family's expectations and Anvir's insistent presence. The tension between us was palpable, a silent communication that spoke volumes. I felt a strange connection to Christopher, an unspoken understanding that he saw through the facade I was forced to maintain. Anvir guided me away from the group, his hand still firmly on my back.
I cast one last glance at Christopher, who watched us leave with a smoldering intensity in his eyes. The air was thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension,
Anvir pulled me into a small, dimly lit room at the top of the stairs, his grip on my arm insistent. Once inside, he began showering me with compliments. "You look incredible tonight," he murmured, his eyes roving over my dress. "I love how it hugs your curves. You have no idea how attached I am to you because you're so attractive." His words, though flattering, felt empty and shallow, lacking the genuine affection I longed for. Despite his praise, I forced a smile, my body tense and defensive. Anvir stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. His hands settled on my waist, their movements slow and deliberate, as if testing the boundaries. He pulled me into a hug, but instead of feeling warm and secure, it felt suffocating, like a trap tightening around me. His embrace was supposed to be gentle, but it left me feeling cold and trapped. "Anvir, this isn't the right time," I said, trying to keep my voice steady as he leaned in, his intent clear.
"Why not?" he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. "We're in a relationship. What's the problem?" I pushed him away, my heart pounding. "I need more time," I insisted, hoping he would understand. His face twisted with anger, a frightening intensity replacing his earlier charm. "You never loved me," he spat, his voice laced with bitterness. "You always make excuses." "That's not true," I protested, my voice trembling. "I just need more time." His grip on my hand tightened painfully, and I winced. "It hurts, Anvir," I whispered, but he didn't seem to hear. His other hand moved to my waist, his hold unyielding.
"Why can't you just give us a chance?" he demanded, his eyes dark with anger. "I'm trying so hard for you." Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to pull away. "Anvir, please, you're hurting me," I pleaded, my voice breaking. His expression softened for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. But it was fleeting. "I'm only doing this because I love you," he said, his voice quieter but no less intense. "Can't you see that?"
"Love shouldn't hurt," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "This isn't right."
He released me suddenly, stepping back as if my words had struck him. The room fell silent, the tension thick and oppressive. I rubbed my aching wrist, tears streaming down my face. "Maybe you're right," he said finally, his voice hollow. With that, he turned and left the room, leaving me standing there, shaking and heartbroken.
As I left the room, I noticed a sharp pain in my leg, a subtle reminder of the altercation with Anvir. I couldn't recall exactly how I had hurt it—perhaps it happened when he was gripping my hand so tightly that I didn't even notice. Unconsciously, I descended the stairs and re-entered the main hall, my eyes scanning the crowd, searching for something, though I didn't know what.
I slowly moved toward a table, the pain in my leg intensifying with each step. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, replaying the scene with Anvir over and over again, each replay adding a new layer of agony to my already bruised heart. The bustling room seemed to close in on me, the noise a distant hum as I grappled with my emotions. Suddenly, I felt a powerful aura behind me, an inexplicable energy. I turned around slowly, and there he was—Christopher, standing right behind me. The shock of seeing him so close made me lose my balance, and I began to fall.
In an instant, he reached out and caught me, his strong arms steadying me. Our eyes met, and the world seemed to stop. His gaze was intense, those hazel eyes with green flecks holding a depth that was both mesmerizing and comforting. For a moment, it felt as though time itself had paused, and we were the only two people in the room. His hands were on my waist, and I was holding him tight. Even though his hands looked so strong and rock-solid, they somehow felt soft to me, giving me the warmth I unconsciously craved. It was as if I wanted to stay like this forever, as if his warmth could wash away all my sorrows and pain.
"How did you get hurt?" he asked, his voice deep and concerned, as we remained in that intimate position.
"I'm sorry, I was not careful enough. I got hurt without realizing it," I replied, my voice shaky and uncertain. He helped me stand, his grip firm yet gentle. His eyes scanned me, taking in every detail, every sign of distress. "Did he do this to you?" he asked, his tone low and controlled, but the underlying fury was unmistakable. I denied it, shaking my head, even though the answer was visible on my face. He could read every one of my actions, every slight movement. It felt as if he could see straight into my soul, understanding truths I wasn't ready to admit. Despite my denial, I knew he could see what was real.
His eyes darkened, turning a deep shade of red, a sign of the anger he was struggling to contain. It was an anger that seemed to radiate from him, palpable and intense, as if his fury could be sensed from far away. His jaw tightened, and I could see the muscles in his neck flexing as he fought to maintain his composure.
"I won't let this happen again," he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. The intensity in his eyes was both terrifying and reassuring, a promise of protection and retribution.
As he spoke, the reality of the situation settled over me like a heavy blanket. I realized how vulnerable I had been, how exposed my emotions were in front of this man who seemed to see through all my defenses. His presence, though fierce, brought an unexpected comfort, a sense of safety I hadn't felt in a long time.
I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his once more. There was a silent understanding between us, an unspoken agreement that he would be there for me, that he would stand by me no matter what. In that moment, the pain in my leg, the discomfort from Anvir's touch, and the chaos of the evening all seemed to fade into the background.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. It was a simple phrase, but it carried the weight of my gratitude, my relief, and my hope.
He nodded, a small, reassuring smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Let's get you out of here," he said, and in one swift motion, he scooped me into his arms, carrying me out of the hall. As we made our way outside, he deftly navigated through the venue, avoiding everyone's eyes. I was stunned by the suddenness of his movement. It felt surreal, as if I were dreaming. How could someone so seemingly insignificant like me be carried out by him? I couldn't make myself believe it. His bodyguards and assistants moved seamlessly around us, creating a protective barrier and ensuring our exit went unnoticed. He didn't have to utter a single command; they understood his intentions with an unspoken ease. This silent coordination left me in awe, adding to the growing sense of disbelief that had taken hold of me. My body felt weak, the events of the night weighing heavily on me. Yet, in his arms, that weakness transformed into something else. There was a comfort in his embrace, a longing to soak into his warmth and have him carry me for the rest of my life. His strength was palpable, making my weight seem inconsequential to him, as if it were nothing. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. He looked immensely attractive, his features sculpted with an almost divine perfection. How could someone be so perfect? Even in this fraught situation, he looked like a statue come to life, every angle highlighting a different facet of his allure. It was as though he could never look anything less than stunning, each perspective revealing a new layer of his attractiveness. As he carried me through the corridors and out into the night, the air felt different, charged with an electric tension that thrummed between us. My heart raced, not from fear, but from the overwhelming presence of him. His scent enveloped me, a heady mix of cologne and something inherently him, grounding me in this extraordinary moment. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, his voice a deep, calming timbre that resonated through my very core. "Yes, just...overwhelmed," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. I could feel my cheeks flush, embarrassed by the admission of my vulnerability. His grip tightened slightly, a subtle reassurance. "You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed, the sincerity in his eyes offering a comfort I hadn't realized I desperately needed. As we finally emerged from the venue, the cool night air brushed against my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his embrace. The world outside seemed quieter, more distant, as if it existed in a different reality from the one we were in. The stars overhead seemed to shimmer more brightly, reflecting the myriad emotions swirling within me.
His gaze met mine once more, and in that moment, I saw something profound in his eyes—an unspoken promise, a connection that transcended words. It was as if he could see right into my soul, understanding the depths of my fears and the weight of my burdens. And in return, I saw a fierce determination, a silent pledge to protect and cherish. "Thank you," I murmured, the words inadequate to express the gratitude and relief flooding my heart. He nodded, his expression softening. "You're welcome. Let's get you home," he said, his voice a gentle command that left no room for doubt or hesitation.
There was a waiting car outside, and he gently placed me in the seat. "I'm sorry," he said suddenly, a note of genuine remorse in his voice. "I didn't ask your permission before doing this." "It's fine," I replied, still somewhat dazed by the events of the evening. Despite his imposing presence and the tough exterior he had shown all night, his gentleness now caught me off guard. I could never have imagined that someone so formidable could also be so tender. He sat in the seat right next to me and asked for my address. I told him, and the assistant behind the wheel started driving in the direction of my house. I was at a loss for words, my mind replaying the recent events over and over again. The memory of him carrying me out, his arms around me, felt surreal. It was as if I had forgotten how to speak.
Suddenly, he pulled out a first aid kit. "Let me see your hand," he said softly, his voice a mix of concern and anger. He saw the marks Anvir had left, and his expression darkened with fury. With utmost care, he applied a pain reliever to the bruises. He also noticed the small scratch from earlier, the one from when he had accidentally bumped into me. Gently, he bandaged it as well. "I'm sorry," he apologized again, his eyes meeting mine with a sincerity that made my heart ache. He had apologized twice now, even though none of this was his fault. "It's fine," I assured him again, though my voice was steadier this time. His concern for me was palpable, a stark contrast to the indifference I was used to.
When we finally reached my home, his assistant opened the door for me. He insisted on helping me get inside, but I resisted, not wanting to impose further. Before I stepped out, he handed me an ointment and said, "This is for your leg. Make sure to apply it." As I walked out of the car and looked back, I saw his eyes were fixed on me, filled with an intensity that made my heart flutter. It was as if he didn't want me to leave, as if he wanted me to stay with him forever. I could feel the weight of his gaze, heavy with unspoken emotions. I tried to tell myself that perhaps I was just being delusional, that I was reading too much into his actions. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more, something profound in the way he looked at me. His concern for me was genuine, a stark contrast to the coldness and indifference I had become accustomed to. "Thank you," I said softly, my voice carrying the depth of my gratitude. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. "Take care," he replied, his voice a gentle caress that lingered in the air long after I had closed the door behind me. As I made my way inside, I couldn't help but feel a sense of longing, a desire to turn back and run into his arms. But I knew that for now, this was enough. His concern, his gentleness, and the warmth of his presence would stay with me, a beacon of hope in the darkness that had clouded my life for so long.
….
my thoughts kept drifting back to him. The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his embrace were imprinted on my mind, a reminder that perhaps, just perhaps, there was someone out there who cared for me more deeply than I could ever have imagined.
..