Once, my paranoid love

The ward boy unlocked the door cautiously, and Paul followed him quietly.

“Sir, please come out,” the boy whispered, his eyes darting around. Paul nodded and stepped into the corridor.

“Follow me,” the ward boy instructed. As they moved through the facility, he helped Paul when needed, guiding him through the dark passages.

“You can get out of here,” the boy said, and hope filled Paul’s heart.

Paul smiled as he thought, ‘I’ll be free in a few minutes, Elena.’

Suddenly, a bright light flooded the corridor. The ward boy urged Paul to move quickly.

“Please, sir, act quickly. I think they are already aware of it,” he added urgently. The chase began.

Paul raced through the facility with the ward boy. Alarms blared, and pursuers closed in.

“Please, sir, act quickly. I think they are already aware of it,” he urged. Their advantage had been lost, and time was running out.

Without hesitation, Paul and the ward boy sprinted through the facility’s sterile, white corridors, the piercing alarms echoing in their ears.

**

“He got away,” the psychiatrist remarked.NôvelDrama.Org owns this text.

“What are you saying?” Obin managed to ask, his voice filled with disbelief.

The doctor’s response was hesitant, stuttering, as if struggling to find the right words. “We’re sorry,” he finally admitted, and Obin knew that their careful plans had unraveled.

Obin’s heart sank as he heard the psychiatrist’s words. The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air. The doctor’s apology only confirmed the grim reality.

‘Oh, no!’ Obin murmured, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hung up the phone, his mind racing with the implications of their failure.

‘What am I going to say now?’ Obin wondered as he glanced at the clock.

**

Outside, a powerful breeze swept through the open window. The dark, ominous clouds hinted at an impending thunderstorm, their heavy presence casting a shadow over the room. As the wind howled, the world seemed to brace itself for the impending deluge.

Amidst this prelude to the storm, the sudden ring of the phone shattered the tranquility. Derek, his eyelids heavy and groggy, struggled to regain full consciousness. His room was bathed in a dim, eerie light as the weather outside threatened to unleash its fury.

Derek’s first instinct was to rise from his bed, to answer the intrusive call. However, before he could make a move, Elena’s firm grip seized his arm.

He grabbed the phone, irritated by the persistent caller.

“What are you up to now?” Derek muttered, his teeth clenched, and hung up after a minute.

‘You will not be able to defeat me. She belongs to me.’ Derek picked up the phone and dialed a number.

The next day, as the sun lazily crept over the horizon, Derek’s voice gently broke the morning silence.

“Good morning, honey,” he greeted me.

“Good morning,” I mumbled sleepily, my curiosity piqued by his early rising. What had prompted him to wake up so early?

Derek’s cheerful tone persisted as he announced, “Your breakfast is ready.”

I blinked in confusion. “What? Isn’t it a little early for breakfast?” I asked, my voice still heavy with sleep.

Derek shook his head, his expression unwavering. “Nope. Freshen up. I’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

Concerned by his uncharacteristic behavior, I probed, “Are you okay, Derek?”

He assured me, “I’m all set. You, on the other hand, aren’t. We’re heading to the hospital today for your checkup.”

“But now I’m alright,” I tried to explain, a hint of resistance in my voice. My sleep-fogged mind had nearly forgotten the promise Derek had made about taking me to the hospital today.

Derek’s reassuring touch on my tummy brought me back to the present. “I know you’re okay,” he whispered, concern etched on his face, “but the baby isn’t.”

Gratitude battled within me as I processed his words. Derek’s unwavering support for my child was both comforting and heartwarming.

“Now, come downstairs,” he said, his tone gentle yet firm, as he walked away.

I couldn’t help but wonder what he was planning. The mixture of emotions swirled inside me, leaving me both curious and apprehensive. With a deep breath, I reluctantly pushed the covers aside and got out of bed.

Entering the bathroom, I splashed cool water on my face and gazed at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes, tired from a restless night’s sleep, met my own gaze. The subtle curve of my belly, a testament to the life growing within, drew my attention.

In that moment, I yearned to forget about my past. I wanted to focus on the love and support Derek had shown his unwavering commitment to me and my child. With a smile, I traced my hand over my belly, the silent promise to protect and nurture my precious little one.

I descended the staircase, a sense of curiosity tinged with mild apprehension, as I noticed the unusual presence of numerous bodyguards.

“Don’t forget about anything. Keep an open mind. I don’t want to make any mistakes,” Derek explained, a hint of concern in his voice.

The bodyguards, all standing tall and vigilant, nodded in unison. “Yes, boss,” they affirmed, their commitment to their duty apparent.

The unexpected sight left me somewhat bewildered. Concern laced my words as I inquired, “Derek, is everything all right?”

Derek, with unwavering confidence, assured me, “Everything is okay, honey,” his smile intended to put my worries to rest.

My gaze shifted toward the group of bodyguards, a question in my eyes. “Then why are they here?” I asked, my voice reflecting my confusion.

Derek’s response was both simple and heartfelt. “I hired them for you,” he explained, his commitment to my safety and well-being evident.

“However, didn’t we have quite a bit?” I questioned, a hint of uncertainty creeping into my tone.

“Baby, we need it,” Derek replied, his voice steady and resolute. But something in his demeanor shifted, turning stern and unyielding, making me think twice about pressing further. I couldn’t help but wonder if everything was truly as fine as he claimed.

We settled into the car, Derek steadfastly at my side, his grip on my hand providing comfort and assurance. As the engine roared to life, a nagging feeling tugged at me, and I couldn’t shake the unease that had taken hold.

“Are you hiding something, Derek?” I ventured, my voice laced with concern and curiosity.

Derek’s response was gentle, yet the gravity of his words carried a weight that left me silent. “Don’t be concerned, darling. I don’t want anyone to get near my child,” he explained, his protective instincts evident.

Anyone? What exactly does he mean? Paul is in the hospital, so he won’t be able to hear my news. If he hears of my pregnancy, he will try to take the baby. However, he is not present. Through the window, I gazed outside. It may have rained yesterday night. Everything appeared to be new and fresh. Is it so?

[The D’Souza Mansion]

Anne, full of anxiety and worry, descended the steps rapidly, her footsteps echoing in the grand foyer. William trailed closely behind her, a calm expression etched on his face.

“Baby,” Anne called out in a rush, her eyes fixated on the figure of Paul, who stood at the bottom of the staircase, looking somewhat disheveled.

“Where have you been all night, baby?” Anne’s voice quivered with pent-up concern and frustration. “I had been awaiting your return. Didn’t you say you’d come yesterday? What have you been up to?”

Paul, soaked to the bone, gazed at his mother with a hint of remorse. The rain had taken its toll on him, but Anne’s distress took precedence. He attempted to explain, but before he could utter a word, Anne interjected with an impatient, “Paul.”

He sighed and finally admitted, “I was at Elena’s place.”

Anne’s eyes widened, incredulous. “What? You were there?” Her voice carried a mixture of surprise and dismay.

Paul met her gaze, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Yep, I hadn’t seen her in such a long time,” he replied.

Anne couldn’t contain her exasperation, and her voice rose with a tinge of anger. “Paul!” she exclaimed, her frustration and the hours of waiting for him finally spilling over. “I waited all night for him, and you went to meet her.”

Anne let out a sigh, her patience wearing thin, and she exchanged a glance with William, who stood by silently, observing the unfolding drama.

“Go change your clothes, honey. I’ll tell them to bring you breakfast,” Anne finally said, attempting to diffuse the tension and refocus on the immediate concern at hand.

Paul, however, was not so easily diverted. His gaze shifted beyond his mother, directed at the man standing nearby. “Who is he?” he inquired, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of skepticism.

Anne hesitated for a moment, caught off guard by the abrupt nature of Paul’s question. She attempted to explain, “He is your…”

Before she could finish her sentence, Paul interjected with a cutting remark, a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Don’t tell me after Mr. Robert, you found your sugar daddy.”

Anne’s eyes widened, shocked by the audacity of Paul’s accusation. “Paul, be careful with your words,” she warned, her voice carrying a note of stern authority.