Miguel entered his car, his mind in turmoil. Just as he was about to start the engine, he noticed the attacker still lurking, attempting to re-enter the building. Adrenaline surged through his veins. Without hesitation, Miguel sprang from his car and dashed toward the masked assailant, grabbing him unexpectedly.
"Who sent you? Who the heck are you?" Miguel shouted, his voice a mix of fury and desperation. The masked man, taken aback, quickly recovered and shoved Miguel to the ground. Before Miguel could react, the assailant slashed at him with a knife, the blade slicing through his skin. With a pained grunt, Miguel clutched his wounded hand as the attacker fled.
Miguel lay on the ground, groaning in agony. Blood seeped through his fingers, and the sharp, searing pain radiated from his hand. A passerby saw him and rushed over, urging him to see the doctor nearby. Gritting his teeth, Miguel forced himself to his feet and stumbled back into the hospital, where the medical staff quickly attended to him, bandaging his hand.
As he was leaving, Miguel's eyes fell upon Audrey, standing in the hallway. She was weeping, her shoulders shaking with each silent sob. His heart ached for her, a deep, piercing sorrow that felt like it would tear him apart. He wanted to go to her, to offer some comfort, but a wave of self-doubt and helplessness washed over him. He knew she didn't want his help, and the realization stung more than his physical injury.
Defeated, Miguel turned away and walked back to his car. He tried to start the engine, but the pain in his hand made it impossible to drive. Frustrated and in pain, he called his secretary, Robert. Within minutes, Robert arrived, taking in the sight of his injured boss with a mix of concern and curiosity.
As they drove, Robert couldn't help but notice Miguel's distracted demeanor and the bandage on his hand. "What happened? What happened to your hand?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.
Miguel stared out of the window, the streetlights casting fleeting shadows across his face. He remained silent for a long moment before finally speaking. "Take me to the bar. I need to drink to stupor. I feel bad for her, but I can't help her because she doesn't want me to," he said, his voice heavy with sorrow and frustration.
Robert instantly understood. It was about Audrey, the girl his boss had a crush on. Trying to lighten the mood, he risked a teasing comment. "You always said you weren't interested in her," Robert said with a faint smirk.
Miguel's eyes flashed with anger. "Say one more word, and I'll cut your salary again," he snapped, his tone deadly serious.
Robert immediately stopped teasing, sensing the depth of his boss's pain. The rest of the drive to the bar was shrouded in silence, the tension in the car palpable. Once they arrived, Miguel wasted no time ordering drink after drink, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. Each sip burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction from the emotional turmoil raging inside him.
As the night wore on, Miguel's world began to blur. The bar's dim lights and the hum of indistinct conversations faded into the background. His thoughts were consumed by Audrey and the helplessness he felt. He saw her face, her tears, and it tore at his heart. The pain in his hand became a distant throb compared to the ache in his chest.
Robert watched over him, his earlier amusement replaced with concern. He knew his boss well enough to understand that this was more than a crush; it was a deep, unspoken love tangled with guilt and frustration. As Miguel finally succumbed to the numbness of alcohol, Robert helped him into the car, determined to get him home safely.
The drive back was quiet, the weight of unspoken emotions heavy in the air. Miguel's head lolled against the window, his mind a chaotic mess of regret, longing, and unresolved feelings. Robert glanced at him occasionally, his own thoughts troubled.
Robert helped Miguel into the house, supporting him as they walked. They were greeted by Betty, who looked worried.
"I'll take care of him from here," Betty said gently. Robert nodded, grateful for the help, and handed over the drunk Miguel to her.
Betty guided Miguel to his room, her heart pounding with a mix of concern and excitement. She helped him onto his bed, carefully laying him down. As she leaned over to move some hair from his face, she couldn't help but smile. "He's so cute," she thought, her cheeks blushing slightly. "I'll make you fall for me soon, just wait!"
She covered him with a blanket, ready to leave, but just as she turned to go, Miguel's hand grabbed hers. He pulled her back onto the bed, and she fell beside him. Her eyes widened in surprise, but Miguel held her tightly, his grip firm and almost desperate. Betty's heart raced, a smile creeping onto her lips as she savored the unexpected closeness. She didn't try to leave again, feeling a strong desire to stay by his side.
Meanwhile, Mr. Parker, Miguel's father, entered the house. The smell of alcohol hit him immediately, and he knew his son had come home drunk again. Annoyed and ready to yell at Miguel, he rushed up the stairs to his son's room. But as he approached the doorway, he stopped.
Through the partially open door, Mr. Parker saw Miguel holding Betty tightly on the bed. His initial frustration melted away, replaced by a growing sense of happiness. This was the first time he'd seen his son so close to someone, and he was happy it it was with Betty, and the sight filled him with hope. Quietly, he closed the door, a contented smile spreading across his face as he walked away.
In the silence of Miguel's room, Betty lay still, enjoying the warmth of his embrace. She whispered softly, "Sleep well, Miguel. I'm here." For a moment, everything felt perfect, and she allowed herself to dream of a future where Miguel's feelings for her would match her own.
Time passed, and eventually, Miguel's grip loosened as he drifted into a deeper sleep. Betty stayed beside him, her heart full of tenderness. She carefully undressed him, ensuring he was comfortable, she looked at his balls and smiled to herself, then slipped off her own clothes, lying next to him. The warmth of his body next to hers was comforting.