Chapter 58 : Secret Pocket

Angela’s POV
Angela stood in the dimly lit living room, her gaze drifting around the aging house. The floor creaked with every step she took, and the walls seemed to hold their breath, uncertain of their stability. The house bore the marks of abandonment, years etched into its weathered surfaces. A window's cover hung askew as if it had given up on clinging to the frame. Outside, the tall trees formed a shroud of solitude around the old house, isolating it from any nearby neighbors.
The journey to this place had been long and exhausting. Angela's heart held onto a hope that Andrew would understand, that he would stand by her decision. She was determined to sever ties with Leonardo Vera, to step away from a painful chapter of her life.
As Andrew stepped back into the room, the door closed behind him with a soft click. Angela's tear-filled eyes met his, a silent plea for information. "How did he take the news?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"He was… angry, just as we anticipated," Andrew replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I'm sorry."
Angela's brow furrowed, confusion mingling with her pain. "Sorry for what?"
"I'm sorry for… inventing a story," Andrew confessed, his discomfort evident. "I told Mr. Vera that... you had been swept away… by a tall, handsome… stranger."
Angela's shock was palpable. "You... you spun a lie to Leonardo?"
Andrew's gaze dropped to the floor. "I thought it might… give him closure, a reason… to let go. I thought he… might believe you… had someone in your life."
Anger surged within Angela, a mix of frustration and betrayal. "That was not your decision to make, Andrew! You should have discussed this with me instead of creating a false narrative."
"I know," Andrew admitted, his voice heavy with regret. "I should have… communicated better. I… apologize."
Tears streamed down Angela's cheeks, her heart torn between her choices and the unintended consequences. "Please, help me make these decisions, Andrew. Don't take matters into your own hands."
Andrew's expression softened, remorse evident in his eyes. "I promise, Angela. I won't act… without your consent… again."
***
The passage of three days was swift, leaving her alone in the house, the silence a stark companion. Her cell phone had persistently rung for the past two days, its incessant clamor finally driving her to remove the battery. She needed to shield herself from the siren call of Leonardo's voice, its mere resonance possessing an almost mystical ability to sway her convictions. She understood the sway he held over her, his words akin to a spell that could coerce her into acquiescing to his desires.

Angela grappled with the reality that attempting to expunge her feelings for the man she loved was an endeavor bordering on the impossible. The threads of emotion were woven too deeply, entangling her heart in a web she couldn't easily unravel. Yet, she was resolute in recognizing the necessity of beginning the painful process of untangling Leonardo from the fabric of her being.
***
During her fourth night in the house, Angela's gaze fell upon the paper bag that Andrew had brought for her earlier that morning. On its initial arrival, she had disregarded it, seeking to occupy herself with any task that would divert her focus from the thoughts of Leonardo. "Focus on yourself alone, Angela," she reminded herself, determination flickering in her eyes. With that resolve, she began to unpack the bag's contents.
As she pulled out the items, she realized that Andrew had brought her toiletries. Her surprise grew as she noted the attention to detail, from the precise sizes of her things to the luxurious choices he had made. Among them was a striking red underwear set, a lavish selection that seemed incongruous coming from a gardener with whom she hadn't been particularly close. Her mind whirred with questions – why would he spend so much on her, and what was his intention?
Laying out all the things Andrew had provided, she observed a recurring theme: they all hailed from Veyron Boutique, an expensive establishment she was familiar with. It had been Mrs. Vera's preferred boutique, and Angela herself had been taken there a couple of times, once even receiving an expensive bra as a gift. This discovery left Angela pondering how a simple young gardener had managed to curate such a thoughtful collection. The gesture was both surprising and perplexing. With the lingerie spread before her, she eventually drifted off to sleep.
The following morning, the soft symphony of tweeting birds roused Angela from her slumber. Blinking awake, she realized her feet were dangling off the bed, touching the floor. A glance at the clock revealed it was 5 a.m. She wandered into the bathroom, refreshed herself using the new toiletries Andrew had brought, and slipped into a white dress he had chosen for her earlier.
Her stomach's protest reminded her of her hunger, and she made her way to the kitchen. The enticing aroma of robust coffee filled the air, lifting her spirits as she entered the room. But she wasn't alone. Sliced bread with peanut butter and a freshly brewed pot of coffee adorned the table, and the kettle on the stove retained its warmth. Just as she was about to take it all in, the kitchen door swung open, revealing Andrew.
"Good morning," Andrew greeted with a cheerful tone. "I had plans to prepare breakfast in bed for you, but now that you're up, maybe we could enjoy it together."
Angela smiled faintly, acknowledging his gesture. She took a seat across from Andrew, her curiosity piqued by his early morning appearance. "What brings you here so early?"
Andrew's gaze softened as he replied, "It's my day off, and I thought… maybe we could spend it together." His eyes held a mix of hope and uncertainty as he continued, "There's a small lake not far from here. I thought we could have a picnic. Would you be interested?"
Angela observed his earnest expression, noting the hint of boyish curiosity in his eyes. She felt an instinctual urge to keep her distance. He was, after all, a relative stranger. Her knowledge of him extended only as far as being Vera's new gardener, leaving her with a desire to uncover more about his motivations – especially regarding the unexpected generosity she had experienced.
As Andrew spoke again, Angela refocused on his words. "Angela? Are you comfortable with me around?"
She nodded, her tone firm but gentle. "You've been incredibly kind to me, and I appreciate your help. But you don't need to go to such lengths."
Concern flitted across Andrew's face. "What have I done wrong?"
Angela sighed, recognizing his innocence. "You've done everything right, and that's the problem. I don't want you to put yourself out for me."
Andrew looked perplexed. "I don't want you to feel indebted to me, Angela. I just want you to accept my gestures. I... I think I might be in love with you."
Her steps faltered as he approached her, his declaration hanging in the air. "Andrew, please," she said softly but firmly, stepping back. "Love isn't something to be shown like this. If you want to help me, please, let's not talk about love."
He seemed taken aback but nodded, his expression reflecting his understanding. "If that's what you prefer."
"I've made a decision," Angela stated, her tone resolute. "I'm planning to return to my house, maybe as early as tomorrow."
Andrew's concern was evident. "I would advise …waiting until Mr. Vera stops searching for you."
"What do you mean?"
"He came to your house, searching for you," Andrew said, his gaze turning to the window. "I heard he has your resume and might continue visiting your house to find you."
Angela's distress was palpable. "Oh, God."

Declining Andrew's invitation for a walk by the lake, Angela watched as he left the old house around 4:00 p.m., leaving her alone on the patio. Her thoughts were entwined with the enigmatic nature of his behavior. At times, he seemed young and carefree, while at others, a certain maturity emanated from him. However, a lingering doubt niggled at the back of her mind, casting a shadow over her trust in him.
Around 5:00 p.m., Angela found herself at the very lake Andrew had mentioned earlier in the day. She conceded that he was right; the place was indeed breathtaking at sunset. The serene surroundings caused her thoughts to drift, even as she battled to push Leonardo from her mind. She took in the view but soon returned to the old house as dusk began to settle, locking the door behind her. As she stood there, gazing at the darkening trees beyond the gate, she contemplated the twists her life had taken.
Back inside, Angela grabbed a light meal – some leftover sandwiches and a glass of juice – as her appetite remained elusive after she decided to distance herself from Leonardo. She retreated to her room, where she'd spent her fifth night. A sense of unease led her to place a chair against the door, a makeshift barrier against any unexpected visitors.
In a corner of her room, her shoulder bag lay, a remnant from the time she parted ways with Leonardo. Drawn to it, she reached out, inadvertently knocking it over and spilling its contents – including Esmeralda's Diary – onto the floor. The sight of the diary ignited a surge of energy within her. She retrieved it, her fingers tracing over its pages. As she playfully flipped through its contents, her gaze caught something unusual on the inside back cover. The cover appeared to have been torn off, revealing a sealed secret pocket embedded within the diary.