Once, my paranoid love

The car enveloped us, muffling the outside world as I eavesdropped on their conversation. Paulina’s voice echoed in my ears, reminiscent of Paul’s incessant chatter from our shared past. In those bygone days, we engaged in endless conversations, navigating the contours of life when Paul was just a kid.

Now, as I navigate life without him, the realization of time’s fleeting nature hits me with a profound force.

I find myself lost in hypothetical.

What if he could overcome his struggles, the grip of his paranoid disorder loosening its hold? Would he still be a vibrant presence, sharing smiles with Paulina in Derek’s place?

As the car hums along the road, my mind races through scenarios that exist only in the realm of what-ifs.C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

What if Paul could reclaim his normalcy? Would he stand beside me now, sharing the same space as Derek?

The rhythmic motion of the car becomes a metronome, measuring the passage of time and stirring introspection.

Eventually, we arrive at the resort, and to my surprise, it hugs the coastline. The distant symphony of waves crashing against the shore permeates the air. It’s as if the ocean itself is whispering tales of time and change.

I can’t help but acknowledge the impeccable taste of the resort’s designer. The proximity to the sea adds an unexpected layer of serenity, the waves serving as a constant reminder of nature’s relentless march forward.

Derek’s voice broke the silence, pulling me back from the depths of my thoughts.

Derek smiled, holding my hand.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

I nodded without much expression.

“I know you’ll enjoy it,” he assured me.

We stepped out of the car, and I took in the stunning surroundings. It was exactly like the scenes from my dreams. I’d always wanted to share this beauty with someone special, but he wasn’t here with me. It felt like someone had taken my dream and placed it right in front of me.

A friendly voice interrupted my thoughts, “Hello ma’am, please come this way.”

I turned to see a man guiding us. Glancing back at Derek, who was chatting with the receptionist, he smiled and motioned for me to follow him.

“Ma’am,” the man repeated, breaking my reverie.

“Yes,” I responded, and I fell into step behind him, the fragrance of jasmine wafting in my wake. It surprised me; Derek knew of my presence, but not every detail. Perhaps he uncovered the parts I hadn’t shared.

As we walked, I couldn’t shake the feeling of subtle revelation, the scent of jasmine intertwining with the unspoken.

“Ma’am, this is your room,” the man declared, coming to a stop in front of a door.

“Oh,” I murmured, entering the room. He gestured for a boy to place our bags down.

“So, you’re the resort’s owner?” I asked, my tone a blend of weariness and calm detachment. Though not particularly interested in his background, a subtle curiosity lingered.

“No, ma’am, I’m simply here to work. My boss wanted to meet you, but his job got in the way,” he explained.

“What’s your name?” I inquired, my tone firm.

He replied with a simple, “My name is Han.”

“Mr. Han, thank you. I really like how you guys decorated this room,” I expressed, genuinely impressed by the thoughtful touches.

As my eyes swept across the room, I noticed the Gerbera, my favorite flower. The subtle scent of jasmine now enveloped the space, catching me by surprise. My fingers instinctively reached out to touch the Gerbera, a connection to a personal fondness.

As I pulled back the curtain, the shock intensified. A vast jasmine garden unfolded before my eyes, a breathtaking panorama that left me momentarily speechless.

“Ma’am, I hope you enjoy it,” Han said, breaking the silence. His explanation followed, revealing that every room in the resort had been hand-decorated by Derek.

I peered out of the window, the jasmine garden stretching as far as the eye could see. “I really like it, Mr. Han,” I remarked abruptly, the words escaping my lips without much thought.

I thought Derek had arranged everything, but its fine since the owner of the resort did it.

**

Derek and Paulina made an unexpected entrance. Paulina, brimming with childlike enthusiasm, darted to the porch, her eyes sparkling as she peered into the vibrant sea of flowers.

“Mo-ma see, flow-ers,” she exclaimed joyfully, a chorus of innocence that filled the room with a delightful energy.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Han,” Derek expressed his gratitude.

“Mr. Derek, it’s my work,” Han replied.

“Elena, do you like this?” Derek asked, closing the distance between them. “If not, I’ll talk with the manager.”

“It’s good,” Elena replied succinctly.

“Finally, you like something,” Derek teased with a sigh of relief.

“OK, ma’am and sir, enjoy your time,” Han said, his departure signaling a moment of privacy for Derek and Elena. Derek enveloped Elena in his arms, a gesture that spoke of familiarity and care.

“I had a feeling you’d enjoy it. That’s why I brought you here,” he revealed, a trace of satisfaction in his voice.

Elena’s face remained stern, a complex blend of emotions hidden behind her facade. Derek, undeterred, suggested, “Go freshen up; we’ll go for dinner.”

Elena nodded.

Derek, sensing her reserved demeanor, retreated to the balcony to retrieve Paulina. As he approached, he found her fixated on someone in the garden, her face adorned with a radiant smile.

“Baby,” Derek called out, reaching for her and bringing her into his embrace. “What is my baby doing here?” he inquired with paternal affection.

Paulina’s response came in the form of a single word, “Da-day.”

“What are you staring at?” Derek asked, his curiosity piqued by her unwavering gaze. Paulina, still nestled in his arms, simply pointed towards the garden with a gleeful expression.

Derek searched the garden, hoping to catch sight of the mysterious figure that had captured Paulina’s attention. However, his efforts proved fruitless. “There isn’t a single person, honey. Let’s go inside. Daddy will select a dress for you,”

Inside, minutes ticked away as Elena waited for Derek’s instructions.

“Order something, Elena,” Derek urged, his attempt to involve her in the evening’s plans. Elena’s gaze wandered over the menu, but her eyes held a distant, vacant expression.

Unexpectedly, Paulina chimed in, “Da-day, prawn soup.” Her innocent request brought a spark to the moment.

Derek, always responsive to Paulina’s wishes, declared, “Of course, we’ll have prawn soup.

The dining setup was impeccable. A sea view unfolded before them, the rhythmic waves providing a soothing backdrop. A pianist played nearby, the melodic notes adding a touch of elegance to the atmosphere.

The ambiance was carefully curated, a picturesque scene that blended the beauty of the sea with the harmonious melody of the piano.

Elena, still caught in the quiet complexity of her thoughts, found solace in the tasteful setting. The sea breeze whispered through the open windows, and the distant melody of the piano created an immersive experience that transcended the simple act of dining.

**

Elena’s pov.

My focus wavered from the piano, my mind drifting into the recesses of memory. The pianist’s melodies stirred thoughts of a time when I, too, played the piano with passion. Paul, a devoted fan of my music, had always encouraged my pursuits. Memories flooded back the school competitions, the pride in my mom’s eyes, and Paul’s unwavering support.

Lost in the echo of these past moments, a voice abruptly shattered the reverie.

“Hello.”

The greeting sliced through my thoughts, and an inexplicable sensation gripped my heart. Time momentarily froze; my heartbeat seemed to halt. I instinctively tightened my grip on the chair, a reflexive response to the unexpected disturbance.

What was that?

What did I hear?

That voice?

The voice, though faintly familiar, sent ripples of disbelief through me. My gaze slowly shifted towards the source, and there he was-guy.

I opened my mouth, eyes widening in startle as disbelief seized me. How could this be? There he stood, a figure from the past, materializing in the present like a ghost. My heart raced, and I was momentarily paralyzed by the shock of recognition.

“Hello, ma’am,” the man greeted, his voice weaving through the air like a thread connecting two distinct moments in time. His smile, pleasant and undisturbed, only intensified the surreal nature of the encounter.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. A thousand questions flooded my mind, each vying for attention. How was this possible? What did it mean? My throat felt constricted, words imprisoned by an inexplicable force.

“Good evening, ma’am,” he continued, extending the simple greeting that hung in the air like a weighty secret. My breath caught in my chest, and I struggled to respond. It felt as if someone had seized my throat, rendering me mute.

As I stood there, eyes welling up with tears, a surge of panic threatened to engulf me. Inhaling deeply, I grappled with the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. His features, a mirror of someone I thought I had lost forever, stared back at me with an uncanny resemblance.

Blue eyes, lips, nose, and that slicked black hair-it was Paul.