Date Me, Mr. Archer

forty four | our home

AN: she's alive. this is a happy ending.

PS: if you were watching ind vs pak and got distracted by this notif, please go back. the chapter will remain forever; the match won't.

I was really glad that I hadn't been shot. I really, really was. But in the last two weeks since I regained my consciousness and was allowed to come back home, I was feeling very out of sorts. It seemed as if I was the only one who knew that I hadn't been shot.

There were people hovering over me all of the fucking time. Jenny flew back from London some five days ago and Lily and Miller would be flying back as soon as they got some time off their busy schedule, despite me telling them that there was really no need and that I had enough people babysitting me. But if there was one person who was even more stubborn than me, it was Lily and I didn't have the strength nor the heart to tell her to not visit when she had showed me her puppy eyes. And besides, frankly, I missed her too much too.

Right now though, I really, really wished for someone to stop this drama going on in the penthouse. Kyst, Jenny, Savannah, Gerald and Alicia (Sully's parents) and Kyst's dad, Trevor were all crowding the kitchen, attempting to make soup and bread for me because I — stupid, stupid fool — had accidentally told them I was craving some homemade delicacy.

If Sully had been here, I would've made him sit here with me and we would've laughed at their antics before I kicked them all out and spent my entire day with Kyst but he had some work at his company to look after and so he sent his parents, who were as incorrigible and stubborn as the others in my family, if not more.

Family.

The word tasted sour on my tongue and even in my head. For the longest time, I'd thought I didn't deserve people who would care for me and love me because the most obvious people who love and support you — a person's parents — hadn't been present in my life. But now, watching so many people taking care of me, loving me, actually adoring me was a little difficult to swallow.

Especially because Kyst and his father didn't really know about this deal being fake. In the past two weeks, I'd tried so hard to get some alone time with Kyst and tell him why I had been at his place in the first place but we were interrupted every time. Every single time.

And what was even more annoying was Kyst's refusal to touch me. He hadn't kissed me on the lips one, let alone made any move about anything further. Now, I did feel guilty that James, my father had tricked my husband into marrying me but I knew that he loved me and wouldn't care about a stupid deal being fake as long as I stayed by his side so my advances towards him were correct, right?

But everytime I made a move, he shut me off with a kiss to my forehead or my cheeks. And then he told me to rest while he worked in his home office. But why? Why wasn't he making any move towards me? What had happened so suddenly to him? Prior to the accident, he never let go of a chance to tease me or behave in crude ways that left me hot and bothered. Did the scars on my fingers and the burn marks on my leg bother him? He couldn't stand me anymore, could me? But even as my mind went down that ridiculously absurd path, my attention stayed on my husband in this kitchen, donning grey sweatpants and a black sweatshirt.