Once, my paranoid love

I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer, the emotional turmoil reaching a breaking point. My heart ached, and I struggled to comprehend the conflicting emotions that enveloped me.

“Paul, it’s too late. I’m sorry, but I’m unable to return with you at this time,” I whispered, the weight of my decision settling into the somber atmosphere.

“Let me go, Paul,” I responded quietly, my voice a plea for freedom. “I want to stay with him.”

“You don’t love him,” Paul said, breaking the silence that lingered between us.

“You just care about me.”

“Why do you think that?” I questioned, the complexity of my emotions laid bare in the dimly lit car.

A sinister grin adorned Paul’s face as he claimed, “Because I can see your love for me in your eyes, that I didn’t see for him.”

“I hate you,” I erupted, the intensity of my emotions boiling over.

“I just have feelings for Derek,” I countered, attempting to assert my truth amid the tumult.

“If you love him, you don’t have to say it loudly,” Paul remarked, his tone a blend of confidence and possessiveness as he grabbed my hand, pressing a kiss upon it. “Paul, I’m married now. Please don’t do this,” I implored, a plea for respect and understanding.

In an unexpected turn, Paul’s grip tightened around my waist, his actions unsettling the delicate balance of our interaction. “What are you up to?” I demanded, a sense of foreboding settling in.

“Say you love me, Elena,” Paul insisted, the demand dripping with a coercive edge.C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

“Paul, you’re forcing me,” I protested, attempting to push him away, but his determination prevailed.

“All I want to do is kiss you,” he added, his desires laid bare in the charged atmosphere.

“Ahh!” A sudden jolt of pain pierced through my belly, disrupting the confrontational moment.

“What’s the matter, Elena?” Paul inquired, his concern momentarily overshadowing his earlier advances.

I instinctively placed my hand on my belly, grappling with the unexpected pain that gripped me. “What’s the matter with your tummy? Is it hurting?”

Paul questioned, his touch shifting from possessive to concerned as he caressed my belly.

As his words hung in the air, he started to say, “I’m so-” but abruptly stopped.

I shut my eyes, a mix of emotions swirling within me. The truth that I had concealed for three and a half months was now laid bare. Paul, sensing a shift, came to a sudden halt, his expression morphing into a frown.

“Pa…,” I began, but Paul silenced me with a motion of his hand. The air thickened with anticipation as he lifted my clothes off my belly, his gaze intensifying as he observed the revelation before him. I bit my lower lip, averting my eyes in an attempt to shield myself from his scrutiny.

He moved closer, pressing his ear to my belly in an attempt to discern any signs of life. The touch on my belly was deliberate and slow, heightening the tension in the confined space.

After a while, Paul’s voice broke the silence.

“How did I go so long without noticing this? I was so happy that I had missed to notice it,” he murmured, a mixture of disbelief and revelation in his tone.

A damp sensation on my stomach hinted at an unexpected display of emotion. Is he crying?

“You are pregnant, right?” he inquired, his fingers gently stroking my belly. I shut my eyes, grappling with the weight of the truth that had finally surfaced.

“I’m asking you something,” he pressed, his tone insistent.

“Yes, indeed. I’m expecting a child. Let me go,” I murmured quietly.

He seized my arm, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of emotions as he continued to caress my belly.

“Who’s the father of this baby?” he questioned, the intensity of his gaze fixed on me.

Paul’s eyes gleamed as he awaited my response.

“Derek is the father of this child,” I confessed.

“I only wanted to hear the truth, Elena,” Paul said, a triumphant grin on his face as he leaned in to kiss my belly. His actions were a mixture of possessiveness and an odd sense of satisfaction.

“You’ve been married to that guy for three months. How can he be the father when it’s appearing not to be?” he challenged, his skepticism evident in his questioning.

“You are mistaken. He is the father of my child,” I calmly asserted, attempting to maintain control in the face of his persistent doubts.

I tried to move his hand away from my belly, a feeble attempt to reclaim some semblance of privacy. However, he continued eagerly caressing my belly, his touch invasive and unsettling. My surroundings offered no solace; there was no one to turn to for help in this vulnerable moment.

Then, in an unexpected turn, Paul kissed my belly and whispered, “Thank you so much, Elena.”

Tears glistened in his eyes, an emotional display that caught me off guard. I had tried everything to keep this truth hidden, to protect the delicate balance of my life.

You caught me. You already knew I wouldn’t abort our child if I became pregnant.

I acknowledged.

“Noo,” I screamed, my hands instinctively covering my face in an attempt to shield myself from the tumultuous emotions swirling around us.

“It’s not you!” I pleaded, as if denying the reality before me would somehow alter the truth.

“Do not deceive yourself. I know you love me so you didn’t hurt our child,” Paul stated, his words cutting through the air with a sense of certainty.

Yes, you knew me well. You knew I wouldn’t damage our child. You knew I wouldn’t forget you. You knew I had a soft spot for you, and you knew how much I loved you.

My eyes welled up with tears, the weight of the past pressing on my shoulders.

It’s your entire fault. You forced me to make this choice. You made me leave you. Now, in this moment of vulnerability, you’re expressing your love for me. Why? The unspoken questions echoed within, a silent turmoil I couldn’t bring myself to voice.