Once, my paranoid love

Nikita’s heart sank as she spotted Paul dancing with Elena. A wave of disbelief crashed over her, and she instinctively hid her face behind her hands.

“No way!” she muttered, the reality of the situation sinking in.

“He can’t do this to me. He’s using me like this again. Why, Paul?” Nikita’s thoughts raced, and tears welled up in her eyes as she grappled with the sudden betrayal unfolding before her.

“It isn’t Paul. He can’t do it with me,” Nikita murmured, her voice filled with a mixture of denial and heartbreak.

The weight of the realization became too much, and she collapsed to the ground, the dance floor a witness to the shattered pieces of her trust.

Derek, sensing his daughter’s distress, moved to her side. He took her hand in his, offering a silent but firm support in the face of the storm brewing within Nikita.

“Dad, he promised me that he loves me and that he will marry me,” Nikita sobbed, her words carrying the echoes of a broken heart.

Obin received a command from Derek.

“Shut down all of the airports in the area. And keep a cautious eye on everything. He’s not going to be able to fly from here,” Derek ordered, a steely resolve in his voice.

The next day unfolded with a gentle murmur.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

“Umm,” escaped my lips as I gently opened my eyes, the haze of sleep still lingering. Confusion set in as I surveyed my surroundings, the details of the room slowly coming into focus.

I gently sat up, resting my head on my hands, trying to make sense of the disorienting reality. “Derek,” I called softly, but my words echoed unanswered in the unfamiliar space.

As I looked around, the truth became apparent-it wasn’t my room. The room held an air of mystery, and questions swirled in my mind. What exactly is going on? I pondered, my thoughts a jumble of uncertainty.

With a sudden realization, I sprang out of bed, the urgency of the situation propelling me into action. Glancing out the window, I discovered that the surroundings were unfamiliar. It wasn’t a township; it was an unknown location that added to the layers of confusion.

A voice from behind caught my attention, and I turned abruptly, startled by the unexpected presence. There he was, Paul, standing with an air of nonchalance.

“You,” I uttered, a mix of surprise and frustration coloring my voice.

“Good morning, sweetheart. I prepared breakfast for you,” Paul remarked, his tone casual as if everything was perfectly normal.

“What are you doing here, Paul?” I couldn’t help but shout, my emotions bubbling to the surface.

“You forget?” he replied with a chuckle, a dismissive attitude underscoring his words.

“Didn’t we have a fantastic time last night?” Paul’s words hung in the air, a bitter reminder of the events that unfolded, and a sinking realization dawned on me. It was him-the source of my confusion and fear.

“Elena, I’ve been missing you badly,” he said, attempting to inject a casual tone as he placed the tray on the bed. His actions, however, only intensified the unease that gripped me.

“No, that can’t be,” I murmured, fear reflecting in my eyes. The dissonance between the familiarity of his words and the fear bubbling within me created a discordant melody of emotions.

“Come here,” he said, extending his hand, a gesture that sent shivers down my spine.

“It’s breakfast time,” he added, as if the normalcy of the situation could erase the underlying tension.

“No, Paul, that’s wrong,” I insisted, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and confusion. The room felt like a trap, and I yearned to escape its confines.

“What’s wrong?” he inquired, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil within me, as he sat on the bed.

I felt an urgent need to escape this surreal situation. “And why are you so scared?” he pressed, his curiosity morphing into a challenge.

In a sudden, unexpected move, Paul grabbed my hand, and I recoiled, uttering a frightened “no” with my eyes tightly closed. The intrusion of his touch sent waves of panic through me.

“It’s me, Elena,” he said, attempting to reassure me. Reluctantly, I opened my eyes, finding myself seated on his lap, a position that only heightened my sense of vulnerability.

His nose rubbed against my hair, and he exhaled loudly, a gesture that felt intrusive and unsettling.

“It’s been a long time since I smelled your scent,” he added, his words sending a shiver down my spine.

“Paul!” I shouted, fear ringing in my voice, a desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of control in this unsettling situation. He turned away from my outburst and, instead of addressing my concerns, began feeding me.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, his tone carrying an unsettling mix of command and false tenderness.

I bit my lower lip, an instinctive reaction to the discomfort that now enveloped me. “Elena,” Paul coaxed, his attempts at reassurance falling on deaf ears.

Aware of the consequences if I resisted, his actions, however, felt invasive, a violation of my autonomy that left me feeling defenseless. I reluctantly complied, accepting the spoonful he offered.

Paul kissed my face and whispered, “Please open your mouth, darling.” The endearment, laced with an undercurrent of control, sent a chill down my spine.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was enraged, his unpredictable reactions adding an additional layer of fear. As the spoon approached once more, I took a bite of the food, mechanically chewing without savoring the flavor.

“What’s the matter, Elena? Is it awful to eat?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to the distress etched across my face.

Attempting to break free from this surreal nightmare, I mustered the courage to stand up. However, Paul’s grip tightened, preventing my escape. “So, what exactly is the problem? I’ll have something ready for you right now,” he offered, his demeanor shifting between false concern and veiled threat.

With a determined nod, I declined his offer, my plea for release hidden beneath a facade of compliance. “Please let me go,” I pleaded, desperation seeping into my voice.