ARRANGED (Book 1) ✔

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.

(Lea's Pov)

The next morning I woke up early.

And you could guess why.  

Last night's dinner ended up going down the toilet. When I had cleared up and washed my teeth, I stripped down, bare for my shower.

It was different. My showers before would consistent with Eric and numerous amount of compliments being uttered. He would caress my burns and leave soft, gentle kisses along them.

I would remember his soothing words, which oddly always made me feel better.

"Don't cry, Angel. These burns are just here to remind you of your strength."

Only this time when I thought of it, I ended up with more tears rolling down my cheeks.

After that, I had dried off and put on my arm cast. It was also hard to wash using one hand, but I got it done.

Currently, I was eating my lunch; tomato pasta with Oreo cookies crushed up inside of it. An odd choice of food, but it seemed to appeal my appetite. I drank down the last of my cookie milkshake. A sigh of relief left my lips. I felt my hunger subside - for the time being.

My eyes alerted in awareness as I heard the familiar footsteps bounce down the steps and slowly approach me.

Eric was still ignoring me. And as much as it hurt to say it - it was for the better. I needed Eric to move on with his life and for him to try find the one he really loved.

Sadly, it wasn't me.

My eyes fixed onto the empty plate in-front of me. Oddly finding interest in it. I heard him come inside of the room, the air suddenly growing thick with tension. I pursed my lips, picking up my plate and placing it in the sink to wash.

Tell him.

Tell him you're pregnant.

My mind began to shout.

I shook my head, self-consciously peering down at my stomach. It was still flat, yet it was as if it was already bulging out. It was in my eyes.

"I made you lunch." I quietly told him. As always, as if it was a routine, he ignored me. I let out a sigh, daringly glancing up at him. When I did, I noticed his eyes were fixed on my casted arm.

"What the fuck happened to your arm?" He questioned, the anger, concern and confusion evident in his tone. I froze, startled from his sudden question. My mouth parted to reply, but my throat suddenly grew dry.

"I-It's broken, for the time being." I quietly said. My voice no louder than a mouse.

He was silent for a minute.

"Did your fucked up father do that to you?" He slowly asked, nearing towards me, but stopping when standing a few steps away from me.

"I-It doesn't matter." I breathed in a whisper. He eyed me, his jaw clenching as well as his hands. I knew he was holding back from reaching out to touch me. My heart clenched.

"I'm going to ask you again; was it or was it not your fucked up father who did that to you?" He questioned, his tone falling unwelcoming and deadly. Much like he was yesterday. I sighed, glancing at him, before hanging my head down in shame.

"Yes," I whispered, barely audible. 

Again, he was silent.

"Why did you keep it a secret?" He asked, his voice sounding foreign to me. It sounded almost pained. I shook my head.