The morning after, I stepped into the kitchen, enveloped in a mix of fragrances - freshly brewed coffee, sizzling bacon, and the sweet aroma of pancakes. My heart, however, wasn't as buoyant. The memory of Clyde's passionate kiss still lingered, leaving a trail of guilt and unease.
Anissa burst in, her radiant smile illuminating the space.
"Hey, sis! I'll cook breakfast," she exclaimed.
But I swiftly intervened, seizing the spatula.
"No, I've got this," I insisted.
Anissa's eyes sparkled.
"Thanks, Dahlia!"
As I expertly flipped pancakes, Clyde entered.
Our eyes met.
For an instant.
I swiftly averted my gaze.
The silence hung.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Anissa chatted.
Oblivious.
Clyde's silence.
Deafening.
After breakfast, Clyde pushed his chair back, his eyes locking onto mine for a fleeting moment.
"Great breakfast, Dahlia," he said, his voice low.
I nodded, trying to appear nonchalant despite the tension between us.
Anissa beamed with pride.
"Thanks, honey!"
Clyde stood, grabbing his briefcase.
"Time for work."
He left, the door closing behind him.
Anissa and I were alone, the silence a perfect opportunity to probe.
"Ani, are you happy?" I asked, genuine concern etched on my face.
Her eyes sparkled.
"Oh, Dahlia, I'm so in love with him! He's perfect."
"How did you meet?" I inquired, curiosity getting the better of me.
Anissa's smile faltered, her gaze drifting.
"Uh, at a friend's party," she said hastily, her tone unconvincing.
"But there were so many people at the wedding," I pressed. "It seemed like a beautiful, well-planned event."
Anissa's expression turned skeptical.
"Yeah, it was...beautiful."
"And Clyde's family? They seemed lovely," I added.
Anissa's eyes dropped, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I...don't know much about them."
My curiosity grew.
"Anissa, what's going on? You're not telling me something."
Her gaze snapped back to mine, a hint of defensiveness.
"Nothing, Dahlia. Just drop it."
I pushed aside my doubts, focusing on Anissa's happiness. The man she loves makes her smile, and that's all that matters.
As I prepared for my photoshoot, excitement coursed through my veins. A renowned brand had chosen me for their campaign, a testament to my hard work.
In front of the mirror, I slipped into the stunning emerald green gown. Its fitted bodice hugged my curves, accentuating my toned waist. The flowing silk cascaded down, highlighting my long legs.
My makeup artist worked magic.
"Smoky eyes, soft pink lips, and luminous skin," she whispered.
My moon-like face glowed, radiant under the lights.
I added the final touch – my lucky moon necklace. Clyde's gift from our past.
Sentimental value, not love.
Just memories.
At the shoot, cameras clicked, and lights flashed. I posed, confident and gorgeous.
"Dahlia, you're stunning!" the photographer exclaimed.
My thoughts drifted.
Clyde's eyes.
Had once adored me.
Now, they cherished Anissa.
A pang of nostalgia.
Bittersweet.
But I refocused.
This moment.
My triumph.
As the photoshoot wrapped up, I gathered my belongings, exhausted but exhilarated.
"Ready to head home?" the assistant asked, handing me my bag.
I nodded, smiling.
That's when Clyde appeared, his presence commanding attention.
"Hey, I'll drive you home," he said, his deep voice low.
I pursed my lips, dissatisfied. Why was he here?
But I didn't say a word. No point arguing.
We walked to his car in silence, the tension between us palpable.
As he drove, I broke the silence, my voice firm.
"Clyde, focus on Anissa. She loves you. Make her happy."
His grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles white.
His jaw clenched, a muscle twitching.
Anger flickered in his eyes, a brief, intense flash.
But he remained silent, his gaze fixed on the road.
The tension between us grew, heavy and uncomfortable.
I gazed out the window, watching the city blur by.
Wondering what I'd said wrong.
Had I overstepped?
Or did he feel guilty?