Chapter 16
Late at night, heavy raindrops pelted the window, rattling against the glass in a relentless rhythm.
The noise woke Daphne. Barefoot, she stepped onto the plush carpet, feeling its softness beneath her toes. The white curtains billowed gently in the breeze as tiny droplets crept through a window she hadn’t fully closed. She walked over to shut it, but as she turned to leave, something caught her eye–a figure huddled at the entrance to the private garden, crouched in the corner, drenched and shivering.
She stared in that direction, and as he looked up, their eyes locked.3
Rain had soaked his shirt, and his dark hair was plastered to his face. With those lost, forlorn eyes, he looked just like a stray puppy abandoned by its owner–nowhere to hide, soaked to the bone, the picture of misery.
He was doing this on purpose.
Daphne realized it instantly.
TV
She stood by the window for a long moment, as if waiting to see what he’d do next.
Finally, with a quiet sigh, she slipped into a dry outfit, grabbed an umbrella, and headed outside.
The rain was coming down hard. Even with the umbrella, icy droplets managed to find her skin in the short walk across the garden, sending a chill straight through her. Her slippers quickly soaked through, the faux fur trim now bedraggled and clinging in wet clumps–a sorry sight.
At last, she reached Nestor. She lifted her hand, offering him a second umbrella.
He looked up at her. Raindrops streamed down his face, making him blink more often, his whole demeanor brittle and broken.
The umbrella was right there, but he didn’t take it. When he stood, she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze–he was a head taller than her.
Daphne said nothing, just nude
the umbrella toward him again.
“Can we talk?” he finally asked. His voice was low and hoarse, his breath heavy–he sounded like he was coming down with something after standing in the rain so long.
She didn’t answer, glancing away.
He always knew how to use that face of his.
Just like when he was sixteen, still a little boyish but impossibly handsome–how he’d walked
time, “Daphne, I like you. Will you be with me?“%
She remembered the wild pounding of her heart.
But maybe Nestor had forgotten–she hadn’t said yes.}
up to her beneath the explosion of fireworks and confessed for the first
Now, with her gaze lowered, her voice was flat and emotionless. “I don’t think there’s anything left for us to talk about.”
She rejected him without hesitation, but she still caught that fiicker of hurt in his eyes.
“Please,” he said after a pause, desperation creeping into his tone. “We can’t just end like this.” If anyone from the business world saw Nestor like this–pleading, vulnerable–they’d be shocked senseless. They wouldn’t believe it.
Daphne let out a short laugh.:
It was his words that made her laugh.
She could still remember that day at the racetrack, five years ago, when he’d sabotaged her car’s brakes with his own hands.
A friend had asked him, “Do you really love Josephine that much? You’d risk your life just to stay by her side?”
He hadn’t even hesitated, his answer as sharp as a knife straight to Daphne’s heart. “Yes.“}
“And what about Daphne? She’s been crying herself blind while you’ve been gone. If you don’t go back, she’ll fall apart. How long are you going to keep pretending to be Leonardo?” the friend pressed.
I know she loves me, but the one I love is Josephine.” Nestor had fallen silent, unshakable, before finally snapping, “Just give me one more year
Daphne had never forgotten those words.
She tossed the umbrella at his chest and turned away without another word.
When she heard humed footsteps behind her, she hesitated for a split second. Just as she was about to speak, he beat her to it.
“Daphne, the rain’s too heavy. Let’s go back inside. I’ll explain everything, I promise. Afterwards, if you want to yell at me, hit me, whatever–you can do whatever you want!” His words tumbled out in a rush, as if he was afraid she’d turn him away before he could finish. She could hear him catching his breath at the end
