The sun is setting over the serene coastal town of Mossel Bay, casting a golden hue over the quaint streets lined with historic buildings, but I, Misha Anderson, sits alone in the dimly lit living room, the only sound filling the air is the soft hum of the refrigerator in the background.
Blankly I stared at the empty space in front of me, lost in my thoughts as I'm recalling the last time that I've seen Genevieve Roberts. It had been months and she hadn't come around since. Originally she came over to see if I was okay, after our last fight, proofing to me that she still cares. The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with unresolved emotions.
How am I to forget the way Genevieve looked at me that day, her eyes filled with longing and desire, not the way an engaged woman is supposed to look at another man. It was like a magnetic pull that neither of us could resist. Despite our disagreements and the hurtful words that were occasionally exchanged, there was an undeniable connection between me and her and it seemed to transcend everything else.
As I'm replaying the events of that day in my mind: Her lips, her eyes, her skin, her scent; it's intoxicating. A pang of guilt surfaced within me, for letting Genevieve leave so abruptly. If it wasn't for my sister Margo, who caught us red handed, and ended up throwing Genevieve out of the house in a fit of anger and disapproval, we might have actually crossed that line again.
I simply can't control myself when I'm around her. Even though Margo's ten years younger than me, she had always been protective of me, especially when it comes to my relationships. Not sure whom she dislikes more: Genevieve Roberts or Nina Zelinsky. Deep down I know that I can't let Genevieve go without a fight, at least not until I've regained my heart which she still carries around with her.
I closed my eyes and try to push away the memories of that day, instead focusing on the moments that we've shared in the past. I can clearly remember that first encounter, Genevieve Roberts was a student in my English class. She was bright and beautiful, different from others of the same age. I was drawn to her from the very beginning, her intelligence and wit captivated me in a way that I simply couldn't explain.
I remember Genevieve's 17th birthday, from being pushed into the pool towards her seductive little teasing game. The way her black dress clung to her body and the unexpected kiss that followed, it ignited a fire between us that neither, me nor her could extinguish.
But it was short-lived as Genevieve's father shipped her away to live with relatives on her mother's side, shortly after our forbidden kiss, leaving my heart to shatter into millions of little pieces. It wasn't until six years later, at her brother Shaun's wedding, that we crossed paths again.
Lesley were desperately in search of a stand-in bridesmaid, because her maid of honor were hospitalized after an unexpected collision and Genevieve offered to lend a hand not knowing that I were Shaun's best man… can anybody say coincidence?
The spark between us was still there, undeniable and fierce, seeing her walking down the aisle that day took my breath away. Thinking back I feel like the fool for rejecting her back than, and I've done so simply because I was angry with her, for leaving me without a word, which later turned out to be a misunderstanding.
In the months that followed, Genevieve and I had rekindled our romance, spending our days living on water, sex, and cheerios (straight from the box). We had embraced our love for one another fully, unapologetically indulging in passion and desire. But just as things seemed to be falling into place, an unexpected video were forwarded towards her, shaking our foundation to its core.
An argument playing off between myself and two of her friends: Giovanni De Luca and Logan Marlow, crude words were being exchanged, it was a betrayal that shattered her trust and left her heartbroken. She had left without a word, disappearing from my life once again, I was planning on asking for her hand in marriage that night, but fate had other plans for us. And now, as I'm sitting alone in this empty house, I can't shake the feeling of regret and longing that weighs heavily on my soul.
It's been five years since she'd climbed aboard that train, and now she's getting married to someone who isn't even me. The thought of her walking down the aisle towards another man makes my heart ache with unbearable pain. I know that I've let her slip through his fingers, unable to hold onto the love that had once consumed the both of us.
I stand up from my seat, as a sudden determination fills my veins. I can't let Genevieve go without a fight, not this time around. I know that I have to find her, tell her how she still makes me feel and beg for her forgiveness. I have to make things right again, to prove to her that our love was worth fighting for.
With a renewed sense of purpose, I grabbed my coat and keys, rushing out the door in search of the woman who had captured my heart so completely. I don't know what the future holds in her hands for us, but I do know that I can't let Genevieve slip away from me again. My heart raced with excitement as I drove down the street, ready to face any challenges that may arise in my quest to regain the love of my life.