Falling, Falling, and Fallen

LINA

Slowly, I opened my eyes, and there he was, those piercing blue eyes staring down at me with a mix of concern and something else I couldn’t quite place. His grip was firm yet gentle, steadying me as I regained my balance.

For a brief moment, we stood there in silence, his presence a stark contrast to the cold demeanor I had just faced in the interview room. I could smell his intoxicating scent again, the woodsy cologne that seemed to envelop me. All I wanted was to bury my face in his neck, to bask in his scent and find solace in his arms.

He met my gaze, and I saw his eyes lower to my lips. The tip of my tongue darted out instinctively, moistening my lips, and at that moment, I felt a shift in the air between us. His eyes darkened with a hunger that sent a shiver down my spine.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and he quickly pulled me up to stand and pushed me away from him. He looked away and whispered, “We’ll add clumsy to that list.”

He circled around his desk and settled into his chair, gesturing dismissively toward the door. “I suggest you leave before you end up in a hospital.”

His words caught me off guard. With dignity, I gathered my belongings and stood tall. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I hope you find what you’re looking for.” I turned on my heel and exited the room.

It had been a crisp evening as I picked up a spicy vegetable pizza with a thick crust and an abundance of cheese. Carrying it with me, I strolled to my favorite bench near the Thames and settled down to watch the boats gliding along the water while indulging in my meal.

Aaron Blackwood’s cutting remarks still stung, though I had grown accustomed to such barbs, especially from my own family. Yet, for some reason, his words had struck deeper, leaving a rawness I couldn’t shake.

Sitting there by the river, the gentle lapping of the water brought back memories of the last day I spent at home with my family five years ago.

***

“You disgusting little girl! How dare you walk into this house!” My father’s voice echoed through the hallway.

I had returned from university, weary and drained, only to confront my father’s furious glare and the pregnancy test he brandished in his hand, discovered just days earlier.

“What the hell is this?” His voice thundered.

His eyes widened in disbelief and rage. I retreated instinctively, fearing his wrath.

“You’re pregnant?!” His voice shook the walls.

Against the door, I stood paralyzed with fear as he loomed over me, ready to unleash his fury.

“Lina, you better speak before I beat the living daylights out of you and kick you out with nothing but the clothes on your back!”

Heart pounding, I managed to whisper, “Yes, Dad. I’m pregnant.”

“You disgusting, incompetent, shameful girl!”

The last thing I remembered before darkness claimed me was his fist hurtling towards me.

***

Sitting on the bench, the distant memory still felt vivid, a reminder of the scars I carried. The pizza remained untouched, the taste of bitterness in my mouth not from the food but from the memories stirred up by Aaron’s words.

I found myself on my favorite bench, gazing out at the tranquil Thames, watching as the city gradually lit up with evening lights. It was a moment of solace, one that brought a rare smile to my face. I wanted to capture this peace forever, wishing time would stand still.

Then, unexpectedly, that deep, mesmerizing voice shattered my reverie.

“What are you doing here?”

I turned, startled to see Aaron Blackwood in his long black coat and leather gloves, looking as striking as ever, though with an expression of intense scrutiny directed at me.

“I—I was just sitting here, eating pizza,” I stammered, averting my gaze and feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. The darkness cloaked us, and I hoped he couldn’t see how flustered I was.

“I can see that. But why are you sitting on my bench?” His tone still held a trace of irritation.

I was on the verge of apologizing and leaving, but a surge of irritation overcame me as I recalled all the condescending remarks he had directed my way. How could I possibly apologize to him for sitting on a public bench?

Setting my pizza down, I met his gaze squarely, determined not to be captivated again by the depth of his blue eyes. “Nobody owns public property.”

Standing up with a defiant look, I grabbed my pizza and began walking away, leaving him behind.

As I strode away, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Aaron Blackwood’s eyes on me. Every step seemed to be accompanied by the weight of his gaze, and rather than ignoring it, I decided to play up my departure a bit. With a subtle sway of my hips, I injected a hint of confidence and defiance into my movements as if to say, “I’m not easily shaken.”

Arriving at the tube station, I finished the last bites of my pizza. I entered the underground with a mix of contemplation and determination. Despite my best efforts to distract myself with the mundane tasks of navigating through the station and boarding the train, my mind kept circling back to Mr. Blackwood.

As the train clattered through the dark tunnels, I gazed out the window, attempting to drown out the cacophony of the city with my swirling thoughts. Despite my best efforts to distract myself, Aaron Blackwood’s face kept appearing in my mind’s eye. His presence was striking—handsome, authoritative, with an aura of strength that was undeniable. I found myself imagining what he might look like with a smile, a fleeting thought that surprised me. It had been a long time since I had been drawn to someone in such a way, and the fact that it was someone so arrogantly confident made the sensation more unsettling.

I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, trying to dispel the images that persisted in my mind. Why was I even thinking about him? He was condescending and demanding, and he had a way of making me feel small with his piercing gaze and cutting remarks. Yet, beneath that exterior, there was a complexity that intrigued me—a vulnerability hinted at in his rare moments of apology, a contrast to his usual stoic demeanor.

I closed my eyes, hoping to find solace from my turbulent thoughts, but Mr. Blackwood’s face lingered still. It wasn’t just his looks that captivated me; it was the challenge he presented.

The train slowed to a stop, jolting me from my reverie. Stepping onto the platform, I took a deep breath and pushed Mr. Blackwood’s image to the back of my mind. For now, I needed to focus on finding clarity amidst the chaos he had unwittingly stirred within me.

By the time I reached my apartment door, my mind was exhausted from overthinking. I unlocked the door, slipped inside, and exhaled a deep sigh of relief.

Finally alone, I could let my guard down and confront the whirlwind of emotions Mr. Blackwood had stirred up in me.

***

Entering my apartment, I fumbled through my bag, frantically searching for my phone amidst the clutter. Finally grasping it, I saw my brother Daniel’s name flashing on the screen.

With a sigh of relief mixed with weariness, I muttered, “Shit.”

Taking a moment to compose myself, I answered the call, “Daniel! How’s my favorite brother doing?”

There was a brief silence before Daniel responded, his voice tinged with concern, “How are you doing? I’ve been on the other side of the world wondering if my only sister is still alive!”

I rubbed my forehead and winced, “I know, I promised I’d call. It’s been chaotic with the move, job applications, and interviews—”

He cut me off teasingly, “No excuses! But now that I know you’re alive, spill it. How’s everything been?”

I sank onto the sofa, recounting my day, especially the rollercoaster of the interview. In classic Daniel fashion, he quipped with his timeless line, “He sounds like a twat.”

I gave a small laugh, “I probably would have phrased it differently, but yes.”

“So what are you going to do?”

I shrugged my shoulders, “Maybe I’m rushing into things, and I should give it a bit more time before I get back into work.”

I heard him sigh on the other side of the phone, “I’ll obviously support you in anything you do, but going backwards means you’ll never go forward. Do you really want to go back to that part of your life?”

I started pondering my brother’s words. He, more than anyone, knew how bad it was for me; it was, after all, him who had found me lying in my own pool of blood.

I moved my mind away from the past and just focused on the here and now, “I’ll let you go. It’s been a long day.”

He whispered on the other side of the line, “If you need anything, call me. I love you, baby girl.”

I smiled at that, “Love you too.”

After ending the call with Daniel, I headed to the bathroom, craving a nice hot bath. The warm water enveloped me, washing away the stress of the day.

Emerging from the tub, I moved through my bedtime routine mechanically: brushing my teeth, brushing my hair, and slipping into my pajamas.

Finally, I settled into bed and turned on Netflix, selecting Star Trek: The Next Generation. As Jean Luc Picard’s soothing voice filled the room, I felt a sense of calm.

The troubles of the day melted away, and I drifted off to sleep, comforted by the familiar sounds of the starship Enterprise.

Just when I was about to fall asleep, I heard a knock on the door. I looked at my clock and saw that it was nine p.m.

Wondering to myself who on earth it would be, I made my way to the door. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as I cautiously peered through the peephole.

There he was—Aaron Blackwood, waiting patiently on the other side.