Amara – Reunion
Chapter 51 - A Different Reality
Author's note: this is from Duke's point of view
- - -
I thought about how Sergio's plan might work. Well, at least it was something and that was better than nothing.
Part of me doubted if Sergio really wants me to find Sanya. Is it possible that he was involved in her disappearance? I shook those thoughts away. Doubting Sergio will not do us any good and he always acted in my best interest, but maybe that is the problem… He was never a supporter of my attachment to Sanya. At first, he welcomed it, thinking that it was a teenage crush, probably because it distracted me from the anger that was directed at my father. But in time, Sergio started asking me questions like, 'what makes her so special?', and on numerous occasions, he would encourage me to approach other girls with the hope that some of them will make me forget about Sanya.
He was nagging and I played along a few times, but I told him to stop when it crossed the line of flirting.
It was during my third year of college when Sergio brought me to one of the nightclubs he frequents. I could not stand women in revealing clothes grinding on me. It was disgusting, and none of them compared to Sanya. Just the idea of them touching me made me gag. That was the night when the first time my anger took over and I could see the horror in Sergio's eyes as I shouted at him to leave me alone.
Maybe Sergio finds pleasure with random women but for me, there is only one. Why can't he accept that?
Back to the present…
After listening to Sergio's plan, I agreed with it. I can always go to Venice later, maybe when Sergio goes grocery shopping, or in the evening when he goes to the nightclub. That should give me a few hours to sneak out and by the time he realizes what I'm up to, I will be airborne.
"Notify me when they enter the dorm, and I will take over from there…"
Sergio bowed and left the apartment.
I was alone and my ears buzzed in silence. I went to pour myself a drink.
Ever since high school ended, I was on the edge my temper would be soothed somewhat with the thoughts of Sanya, but the last month was a nightmare and it's getting worse by the day as I'm experiencing waves of fury mixed with helplessness and I can't recognize myself anymore.
I downed the glass, and I was disappointed that I barely felt any sting in my throat. There was a time when alcohol affected me, but around my twenty-first birthday I found out that my body developed resistance to it.
I stepped on the balcony and leaned on the railing while observing the streets of London below me as dusk descended upon the city.
I could see vehicles moving and people walking, and my mind drifted off to Sanya and the first time I saw her…
It was the first day of high school. I remember walking down the hallway, and I was in a bad mood because the incident of me fleeing Italy with Sergio was still fresh.
I didn't want to go to school. The only thing I wanted was to return to Italy, find my father, and demand an explanation for all the mess that crashed on me. My mother was gone and within weeks, my whole world flipped. From a young master who lived in luxury, surrounded by servants, friends, and girls, I became a no-name teenager who needed to keep a low profile. To add to my misery, I was unable to leave London because Sergio had my documents and money. Unless I planned to walk (and swim) all the way to Italy, I was stuck.
I stepped into the classroom grumpily and it was like someone poured a bucket of flower petals on me. My vision blurred for a moment and a sweet scent filled my nostrils… it was a scent of jasmine on a rainy morning. What the…? How was it possible that out of the full classroom of teenagers, I was able to identify something so specific and pleasing? My sense of smell was always sharp, but I never experienced anything like this. My previous irritability was immediately soothed and replaced with curiosity as I visually scanned the classroom, in search for the source of that intoxicating scent.
My eyes landed on the beautiful girl who was sitting behind the last desk on the right and at the moment our eyes met, my insides jolted like struck by lightning, and I knew that I will be unable to see any other girl because none will ever compare to Sanya.
With every step I made toward her, her gorgeous eyes widened a bit more, and even though my stomach was full of knots from anxiety, my confidence emerged when I realized that she is equally flustered by my presence how much I am with hers. And that was only the beginning.
I stood on the balcony of my apartment and stared blankly into space as my mind flipped through numerous memories that included Sanya. Our lunches, school trips, when I broke my pen on purpose so that she will give me her spare one (I still keep it in the drawer of my desk, it is one of my precious treasures), Sanya and I sharing a slice of strawberry ice-cream pie at the sweet shop only three blocks from here (I lied that I had the money for only one slice so that we can share it).
I could spend hours listening to Sanya talking about her goals and aspirations.
My heart ached when she spoke about her family, and I admired how despite what she went through daily, she could smile so brightly. I compared that to myself who grew up with doting parents, yet I turned bitter. Sanya's situation put mine in a different perspective.
Was I a fool for not making my move on her? I knew that her parents will not approve of her dating, and if she accepts me, it would mean sneaking around or Sanya leaving her family. We were young, and I had no means to provide for her, and I thought that my decision to wait for the right time while growing my assets was wise, and now… Now I know that I was an idiot.
Oh, God! Please, don't make it be too late! If I could rewind the time, I would fix it. I would tell her how I felt on the first day I saw her. I would tell her that the world stops when she enters the room and that her smile compares to the sun rays that emerge after the rain. And I would not give up until she said 'yes' to being my girl. I would promise her forever and stick to it.
I clutched the railing of the balcony, closed my eyes, and wished to be wherever Sanya was. Please, please… If I could find Sanya, I would tell her that she is the only one for me and that my life without her has no colors. If I could find her, I would make up for all the lost time. If I could be by her side, I would hold her tightly and never let go. I hoped that she was fine and I wished to be wherever she was.
I realized that the handrailing I was holding onto was gone and my hands were balled into fists. I opened my eyes and saw the Eiffel Tower. I blinked in confusion. Paris? Before I could comprehend the absurdity of the scene in front of me, I was hit with the scent of jasmine on a rainy morning, and I heard a soft sigh, and I saw… Sanya. Her back was facing me, but I knew that was her.
Without delay, in two quick steps, I was behind Sanya and I put my arms around her.
I took a deep breath and I realized that her scent of jasmine on a rainy morning was mixed with a hint of Japanese wisteria. It was like Sanya matured or maybe changed, but I didn't care because with her in my arms, my world was at peace.
I felt Sanya lean into my embrace, and I wished that we could stay like that forever.
I couldn't see her face, but I assumed that she was looking at the Eiffel Tower, while I focused on her completely.
My soul shook when I realized that I could feel her body pressing on mine, and the warmth she radiated. It was real, yet somehow, I knew that it wasn't.
I spoke next to her ear: "Come back to me, Sanya… I miss you so much…"
Sanya moved to face me, and at the same time, my phone rang, pulling me into a different reality.
I found myself standing on the balcony of my apartment, with my arms forming a circle in the air. I felt an immense loss, but somehow… I knew that was Sanya and relief swelled inside me. She was safe. She accepted my hug. She was in Paris and for a few brief seconds, I was there with her.
It was either that or I completely lost it.
The phone rang incessantly, and I reached for it, thinking that it's Sergio. Did those three finally finish their classes (and dinner) and return to their dorm?
My face hardened when I saw the caller ID: "Magda".
Magdalena Thompson, daughter of Richard Thompson, one of the most influential people in England. I never understood why Magda is sticking to me. Even her older brother Jonathan dislikes me, and I must say that the feeling is mutual. The guy is a snob.
As for Magda, she is one of the young misses who never learned to accept 'no' as an answer.
If not for Magda threatening to sabotage Sanya's scholarship for college, I would not stay away from Sanya. Magda is spoiled and unreasonable, and she knew the details of the funds that Sanya's grandmother left. I had no doubts that her father can pull some strings to shut it down.
My phone kept on ringing and I didn't want to take her call, but I knew that she will keep on calling until I answer.
---
If you are not reading this at 'W e b n o v e l . c o m', then the content you're reading is stolen! Please support the author by reading this novel from the original source.
- - -
I thought about how Sergio's plan might work. Well, at least it was something and that was better than nothing.
Part of me doubted if Sergio really wants me to find Sanya. Is it possible that he was involved in her disappearance? I shook those thoughts away. Doubting Sergio will not do us any good and he always acted in my best interest, but maybe that is the problem… He was never a supporter of my attachment to Sanya. At first, he welcomed it, thinking that it was a teenage crush, probably because it distracted me from the anger that was directed at my father. But in time, Sergio started asking me questions like, 'what makes her so special?', and on numerous occasions, he would encourage me to approach other girls with the hope that some of them will make me forget about Sanya.
He was nagging and I played along a few times, but I told him to stop when it crossed the line of flirting.
It was during my third year of college when Sergio brought me to one of the nightclubs he frequents. I could not stand women in revealing clothes grinding on me. It was disgusting, and none of them compared to Sanya. Just the idea of them touching me made me gag. That was the night when the first time my anger took over and I could see the horror in Sergio's eyes as I shouted at him to leave me alone.
Maybe Sergio finds pleasure with random women but for me, there is only one. Why can't he accept that?
Back to the present…
After listening to Sergio's plan, I agreed with it. I can always go to Venice later, maybe when Sergio goes grocery shopping, or in the evening when he goes to the nightclub. That should give me a few hours to sneak out and by the time he realizes what I'm up to, I will be airborne.
"Notify me when they enter the dorm, and I will take over from there…"
Sergio bowed and left the apartment.
I was alone and my ears buzzed in silence. I went to pour myself a drink.
Ever since high school ended, I was on the edge my temper would be soothed somewhat with the thoughts of Sanya, but the last month was a nightmare and it's getting worse by the day as I'm experiencing waves of fury mixed with helplessness and I can't recognize myself anymore.
I downed the glass, and I was disappointed that I barely felt any sting in my throat. There was a time when alcohol affected me, but around my twenty-first birthday I found out that my body developed resistance to it.
I stepped on the balcony and leaned on the railing while observing the streets of London below me as dusk descended upon the city.
I could see vehicles moving and people walking, and my mind drifted off to Sanya and the first time I saw her…
It was the first day of high school. I remember walking down the hallway, and I was in a bad mood because the incident of me fleeing Italy with Sergio was still fresh.
I didn't want to go to school. The only thing I wanted was to return to Italy, find my father, and demand an explanation for all the mess that crashed on me. My mother was gone and within weeks, my whole world flipped. From a young master who lived in luxury, surrounded by servants, friends, and girls, I became a no-name teenager who needed to keep a low profile. To add to my misery, I was unable to leave London because Sergio had my documents and money. Unless I planned to walk (and swim) all the way to Italy, I was stuck.
I stepped into the classroom grumpily and it was like someone poured a bucket of flower petals on me. My vision blurred for a moment and a sweet scent filled my nostrils… it was a scent of jasmine on a rainy morning. What the…? How was it possible that out of the full classroom of teenagers, I was able to identify something so specific and pleasing? My sense of smell was always sharp, but I never experienced anything like this. My previous irritability was immediately soothed and replaced with curiosity as I visually scanned the classroom, in search for the source of that intoxicating scent.
My eyes landed on the beautiful girl who was sitting behind the last desk on the right and at the moment our eyes met, my insides jolted like struck by lightning, and I knew that I will be unable to see any other girl because none will ever compare to Sanya.
With every step I made toward her, her gorgeous eyes widened a bit more, and even though my stomach was full of knots from anxiety, my confidence emerged when I realized that she is equally flustered by my presence how much I am with hers. And that was only the beginning.
I stood on the balcony of my apartment and stared blankly into space as my mind flipped through numerous memories that included Sanya. Our lunches, school trips, when I broke my pen on purpose so that she will give me her spare one (I still keep it in the drawer of my desk, it is one of my precious treasures), Sanya and I sharing a slice of strawberry ice-cream pie at the sweet shop only three blocks from here (I lied that I had the money for only one slice so that we can share it).
I could spend hours listening to Sanya talking about her goals and aspirations.
My heart ached when she spoke about her family, and I admired how despite what she went through daily, she could smile so brightly. I compared that to myself who grew up with doting parents, yet I turned bitter. Sanya's situation put mine in a different perspective.
Was I a fool for not making my move on her? I knew that her parents will not approve of her dating, and if she accepts me, it would mean sneaking around or Sanya leaving her family. We were young, and I had no means to provide for her, and I thought that my decision to wait for the right time while growing my assets was wise, and now… Now I know that I was an idiot.
Oh, God! Please, don't make it be too late! If I could rewind the time, I would fix it. I would tell her how I felt on the first day I saw her. I would tell her that the world stops when she enters the room and that her smile compares to the sun rays that emerge after the rain. And I would not give up until she said 'yes' to being my girl. I would promise her forever and stick to it.
I clutched the railing of the balcony, closed my eyes, and wished to be wherever Sanya was. Please, please… If I could find Sanya, I would tell her that she is the only one for me and that my life without her has no colors. If I could find her, I would make up for all the lost time. If I could be by her side, I would hold her tightly and never let go. I hoped that she was fine and I wished to be wherever she was.
I realized that the handrailing I was holding onto was gone and my hands were balled into fists. I opened my eyes and saw the Eiffel Tower. I blinked in confusion. Paris? Before I could comprehend the absurdity of the scene in front of me, I was hit with the scent of jasmine on a rainy morning, and I heard a soft sigh, and I saw… Sanya. Her back was facing me, but I knew that was her.
Without delay, in two quick steps, I was behind Sanya and I put my arms around her.
I took a deep breath and I realized that her scent of jasmine on a rainy morning was mixed with a hint of Japanese wisteria. It was like Sanya matured or maybe changed, but I didn't care because with her in my arms, my world was at peace.
I felt Sanya lean into my embrace, and I wished that we could stay like that forever.
I couldn't see her face, but I assumed that she was looking at the Eiffel Tower, while I focused on her completely.
My soul shook when I realized that I could feel her body pressing on mine, and the warmth she radiated. It was real, yet somehow, I knew that it wasn't.
I spoke next to her ear: "Come back to me, Sanya… I miss you so much…"
Sanya moved to face me, and at the same time, my phone rang, pulling me into a different reality.
I found myself standing on the balcony of my apartment, with my arms forming a circle in the air. I felt an immense loss, but somehow… I knew that was Sanya and relief swelled inside me. She was safe. She accepted my hug. She was in Paris and for a few brief seconds, I was there with her.
It was either that or I completely lost it.
The phone rang incessantly, and I reached for it, thinking that it's Sergio. Did those three finally finish their classes (and dinner) and return to their dorm?
My face hardened when I saw the caller ID: "Magda".
Magdalena Thompson, daughter of Richard Thompson, one of the most influential people in England. I never understood why Magda is sticking to me. Even her older brother Jonathan dislikes me, and I must say that the feeling is mutual. The guy is a snob.
As for Magda, she is one of the young misses who never learned to accept 'no' as an answer.
If not for Magda threatening to sabotage Sanya's scholarship for college, I would not stay away from Sanya. Magda is spoiled and unreasonable, and she knew the details of the funds that Sanya's grandmother left. I had no doubts that her father can pull some strings to shut it down.
My phone kept on ringing and I didn't want to take her call, but I knew that she will keep on calling until I answer.
---
If you are not reading this at 'W e b n o v e l . c o m', then the content you're reading is stolen! Please support the author by reading this novel from the original source.
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