We sat at the elegant restaurant, surrounded by soft music and dim lighting. Clyde's eyes locked onto mine, but neither of us knew what to say. The tension was palpable.
I glanced at my phone, noticing five missed calls from Anissa. My heart sank. Something must be wrong.
"Clyde, I need to check this," I said, apologizing.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine.
As I scrolled through my phone, my eyes widened in shock. Pictures and videos of us together at the airport flooded the screen, accompanied by sensational headlines.
"Powerful Lovers Reunite!"
"Clyde Grey's Secret Affair Exposed!"
"Anissa's Sister Caught in Torrid Romance!"
My face burned with embarrassment and anxiety.
"Clyde, have you seen these?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He followed my gaze, his expression darkening.
"Yes, I've seen them," he replied, his voice low.
"What are we going to do?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed.
Clyde's eyes locked onto mine, his expression intense.
"We'll handle it together," he said.
"But how? The media is going to hound us."
Clyde's jaw clenched.
"I'll take care of it. You focus on your career and your family."
I shook my head, frustration building.
"That's easy for you to say, Clyde. You're not the one being torn apart by guilt and anxiety."
Clyde's expression softened.
"Dahlia, I know this is complicated. But I need you to know that my intentions are pure."
"Pure?" I repeated, incredulous. "You're married to my sister, Clyde."
Clyde's eyes dropped, and he took a deep breath.
"I know. And I'm sorry. But my feelings for you... they never went away."
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
"Clyde, stop. Just stop."
The silence that followed was oppressive, heavy with unspoken emotions.
"Clyde, I need to go," I said finally, standing up.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I'll take you home."
As we walked out of the restaurant, the paparazzi swarmed us, shouting questions and snapping pictures.
"Clyde, Dahlia, what's going on?"
"Are you two having an affair?"
"How do you respond to Anissa's statement?"
I felt like I was drowning, unable to escape the chaos.
"Clyde, please," I whispered, tugging on his arm.
He wrapped his arm around me, shielding me from the cameras.
"We'll get through this," he whispered back.
But I wasn't so sure.
As the night wore on, Clyde's calm demeanor soothed my frazzled nerves. We sat on the couch in my hotel suite, watching the city lights twinkle outside. His gentle words and reassuring touch slowly eased my anxiety.
Exhaustion eventually took over, and I leaned into his chest. Clyde wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.
"I've got you, Dahlia," he whispered.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in his arms, my head nestled in the crook of his shoulder.
I jolted upright, disoriented.
"Clyde, you're still here?" I asked, surprise etched on my face.
But he wasn't beside me.
I listened intently and heard the sound of the shower running in the bathroom.
Relief washed over me.
I threw off the blanket and got out of bed, my mind racing with thoughts of the previous night's events.
I walked over to the coffee table and noticed Clyde's phone.
Curiosity got the better of me.
I picked it up, scrolling through the screen.
My heart sank.
Fifteen missed calls from Anissa.
My sister.
Clyde's wife.
Guilt washed over me like a tidal wave.
What was I doing?
I felt like I was betraying Anissa's trust.
The shower continued to run, and I knew I had to talk to Clyde about this.
But how?
And what would he say?
Would he reassure me or tell me the truth?
I sat back down on the bed, Clyde's phone still in my hand.
The sound of the shower seemed to stretch on forever.
My anxiety grew with each passing moment.
What would happen next?
Would Clyde try to fix this mess or make it worse?
The sound of the water remained steady.
I waited.
My patience wore thin.
Suddenly, the shower stopped.
The silence was deafening.
I held my breath.
Clyde still hadn't emerged.
What was he doing in there?
Thinking?
Regretting?
Planning?
I couldn't take the suspense.
"Clyde?" I called out softly.
No response.
I waited.
My heart pounded in anticipation.