When italian mafia falls in love with an indian singer
The sound of his phone ringing makes me back away as I look at his phone lying on his bed. But he grips my jaw forcing me to look back at him.
"Focus on me."
He says as his lips starts peppering...
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I crinkle my eyes in attempt to push away the sunlight hitting my face. When that didn't work I try to put hands in front of my face, still not able to achieve what I intended. I get up from my sleep and sit on my bed annoyed at the interruption in my sleep.
I yawn and strech my limbs. Rubbing my eyes I slowly open them to see my surroundings. White bedsheets, off white walls, sunlight entering through the huge windows.
This is not my room.
Then it hits Lorenzo,office, wound, kiss and then
Ohh noooo What was I thinking? Why didn't I protest or tell him to stop? He would have stopped immediately, I know him.
What he must be thinking? What if he thought that I am an easy women?
I put my head in between my hands pondering over his views on me. He is not with me that means he must have been disgusted by this wayward behaviour of mine. That's why he left.
I immediately remove the sheets and get up to go to him and tell him I am not what he is perciving me as.
But I stop as I reach the door. What if he still decides to leave me? What if he don't like me? He would be irritated by my presence just like other people.
My hands start shaking and my vision turns blurry. I feel my chest tightening and my cries escaping.
Why am I like this? I think and go towards the bed.
As I sit on the mattress I notice a card lying on the desk adjoining the bed.
Out of curiosity I pick it up with shaky hands.
"Sweetheart" I notice the lorenzo's handwriting and I grip the letter harder.
I read further.
"Hope your not drained by yesterday darling. I had to leave as some urgent work came by but I'll try to get back as soon as possible. Have some food though, don't you dare strave yourself."
- Lorenzo
My tears fall wetting the paper underneath. My silent cries turn into full blown crying as I cover my eyes with the paper.
My overthinking is tiring. The constantly running brain conjuring up scenarios that physically hurt me is exhausting. I want my mind to still for a second.
Slowly my cries subside as I take deep breaths to relieve me of the tightness I was feeling earlier. I smile as I again read the paper. My tears have blurred some words but they are still readable.
A small laugh escapes me when I realise he didn't want to leave me or that he didn't hate me.
I sigh and fall back onto bed holding that piece of paper close to my heart. My emotional dependence on people is fatiguing. A feeling of serenity fills me up now that I know he didn't abandon me.
