Chapter 60 : Home Sweet Home

Angela’s POV
Angela came to a stop before her house's gate, her face concealed behind a protective mask that shielded her nose and mouth. Beside her, Andrew surveyed the surroundings, taking in the modest homes that lined the path to her larger, solitary abode.
After a few moments of quiet, Angela turned to Andrew, gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you for accompanying me home. This is where I live."
"May I come in?" Andrew asked, a hint of longing in his tone.
"Follow me," Angela replied, leading him inside. "I'm sorry, I don't have much to offer."
"A glass of water would be perfect," Andrew said, his smile delicate.
As they stepped inside, their conversation flowed. They discussed Angela's home and her current lack of concrete plans. Angela's elderly male neighbor interrupted their conversation with a knock at the door. Angela adjusted her mask, concealing the scars on her face, and greeted him with a warm smile. "Mr. Brown, it's nice to see you."
"Angela, you're looking wonderful, healthier and stronger," Mr. Brown commented. His eyes then fell upon the part of her face she was hiding. "But what happened to your face? Why are you covering it?"
Angela chose to brush off the question lightly. "Just a small accident. Please, let's not dwell on it. What brings you here?"
"I had a man looking for you yesterday, Angela," Mr. Brown explained.
Angela's heart raced as Leonardo's name resurfaced in her thoughts. "Who was he?"
"His name is Leonardo Vera. He seemed deeply concerned about you. He asked me to contact him if I saw you."
Angela's tension surged. "Did you contact him?"
"Not yet, but—" Mr. Brown began.
Angela interrupted urgently, holding the old man's hand. "Please, I implore you, don't. I'll handle it on my own."
"Relax," he assured her with a smile. "I haven't made the call yet. We've known each other since your mother's time. That's a bond that can't be broken. Don't worry. I promised to call, but I won't."
"Thank you. I hope you'll keep your promise," Angela responded, a mix of gratitude and skepticism in her voice.
Though the old man's visit was brief, the encounter left Angela unsettled. However, Andrew offered reassurance, and she invited him to stay for dinner. Angela took charge in the kitchen, and Andrew expressed his surprise. "I didn't know you could cook."
"It's a hidden skill," Angela replied with a hint of a smile. They shared a meal and conversation, and later found themselves in the living room, sipping hot chocolate. The evening wore on, and Andrew's demeanor became increasingly kind and his feelings for Angela more evident.
"I care for you, Angela," he admitted, his gaze earnest.
"I appreciate your feelings, Andrew. But right now, personal matters aren't my main focus. Love isn't a priority for me at this moment. I hope you understand," Angela replied, her tone gentle but resolute.
After sipping from a freshly brewed cup of coffee, Andrew bid farewell to Angela's house. Meanwhile, Angela wandered through each room, her eyes sweeping over the details. Her destination was her room, where she promptly took a brisk shower, the mundanity of it all hardly capturing her attention. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror, silent tears tracing paths down her cheeks as she scrutinized the healing scar on her face. Clad in her nightgown, she settled onto her bed, whispering to herself, "Home, sweet home."
At the knock on her door, Angela stirred from her slumber, greeted by the realization that it was already 8 in the morning. She opened the door to find Andrew standing there, a warm smile on his lips, and a breakfast spread from a drive-thru in his hands. "Good morning, my dear bunny," he chimed, his smile as sweet as his words.
"You really shouldn't have gone through the trouble, Andrew," Angela returned the smile, genuine gratitude in her eyes.
"I brought breakfast for you. May I come in?" Andrew's gaze held a gentle plea, though an unfamiliar unease flickered within them, catching Angela's attention.
"Of course, come on in," Angela ushered him to the kitchen, where Andrew effortlessly retrieved plates and arranged the food on the table.
"You don't need to go to such lengths, Andrew," Angela asserted softly. "I'm feeling much better now."
"Please, allow me to take care of you, Angela," he implored, his eyes locking onto hers. "Let me be there for you."
Angela's voice grew resolute. "You have to stop visiting, Andrew."
Surprise etched across his face, Andrew's complexion paled slightly. "What? Why?" he questioned, a touch of anxiety edging into his tone. "Have I done something wrong? Please, if I've made a mistake, forgive me."
"No, you've been incredibly kind to me," Angela assured him, her gaze unwavering. "But this has to end. I need to stand on my own."
Andrew's protest was fervent. "I want to support you, Angela."
"Please understand. I need my solitude. Your help has meant the world, truly," Angela insisted, compelling Andrew to depart after they finished their breakfast.
The house fell into an eerie silence as Angela stood motionless in the living room. Leonardo dominated her thoughts, a bothersome intrusion she couldn't ignore. She retreated to a corner of her room, spending a few moments in contemplation before summoning the will to embark on her usual tasks. Hours vanished as she methodically cleaned every inch of the house, the effort culminating in exhaustion as she collapsed onto the couch.
The clock had already ticked past four in the afternoon, her hands weary from the various detergents she'd wielded. Staring at the ceiling, Angela contemplated her next task: dusting. Her eyelids drooped, the fatigue pulling her into slumber. Suddenly, a knock at the door jolted her awake. "Andrew?" she mumbled, dragging herself toward the door, its creaky hinges protesting as she opened it slowly. But to her astonishment, it wasn't Andrew standing there. It was Leonardo, those two blue eyes fixed on her.
Angela's initial shock rendered her speechless as she instinctively shielded her face with her hands. "Why are you here?" Her voice trembled, and she moved to shut the door, yet Leonardo thwarted her efforts with his foot.
"Look at me, Angela," he demanded, his tone a mix of confusion and insistence. "Don't hide your face."
"You shouldn't be here, Leonardo," Angela muttered her hands still a barrier. "Please, go."
He persisted, his voice firmer. "Show me your face!" Taking a step back, Angela turned away, attempting to evade Leonardo's gaze.
But he grabbed her hand, his grip resolute. "You won't escape me, Angela. What happened? You promised to be there when I woke up after the surgery, but you weren't. Why?"
Angela wrestled with her explanation, unsure if it could quell Leonardo's evident frustration. Her resolve to live in solitude remained steadfast, yet the task of placating him seemed daunting. "You don't need my assistance anymore."
"That's for me to decide," Leonardo interjected. "You can't just leave right after I wake up and disappear with some guy. Uncover your face. I want to see the face of the person who lied."
"It's not something you'd want to see," Angela pleaded, her hands trembling. "But it's mine to reveal."
"I'm not concerned about your scar. I want to see the unscarred half of your face," he asserted.
Angela's mind raced, grappling with his request. Slowly, hesitantly, she turned toward him, tears tracing her cheeks. "Fine, look." Her voice quivered, exposing her vulnerability. "Are you satisfied now?"
A pause lingered before he spoke. "You."
Flushed with embarrassment, Angela averted her gaze, moving to the window and turning her back to him. "I knew it. You can't bear to look at me now. You can leave, nothing is holding you here. And please, stop staring."
"I'll come back for you," Leonardo's tone was flat, his eyes drilling into Angela's face, an enigmatic emotion simmering beneath his gaze.
"No need. I've resigned," Angela declared somberly, her gaze fixed on the outside world.
"Your resignation is denied," Leonardo retorted, his brow furrowed. His unwavering stare held her captive, refusing to release her from its grip.
Angela found herself trapped within the intensity of Leonardo's gaze, a whirlwind of emotions stirring within her. The depth of his stare unnerved her, evoking a sense of unease that tore at her heart. Unable to shake off the mesmerizing hold he had over her, she couldn't help but release a sob. "What do you want?" Her voice quivered, a reflection of her inner turmoil.
"I want you to come back," Leonardo's insistence remained steadfast. "I'll be back to collect you. Please, don't attempt to escape again." With those words, he exited the house, leaving Angela bewildered by his unusual behavior. She sensed that his intentions were shrouded in a desire to punish her, though the specifics eluded her.
As the clock struck eight in the evening, Angela found herself alone at the kitchen table, her dinner untouched before her. She opted not to switch on the lights, preferring to be surrounded by the comforting embrace of darkness. Attempting to muster the strength to rebuild her life, Angela took a few bites before pushing the remainder into the refrigerator. With a sigh, she retreated to her room.
Slipping into a red nightgown, Angela was on the verge of crawling into bed when a shadow flitted past her window. She stiffened, her senses heightened as she peered outside, finding nothing but emptiness. "Perhaps it's just my imagination," she murmured, attempting to quell her racing heart. Slowly, she settled onto her bed, wrapping herself in a blanket before succumbing to slumber.
In her dreams, a figure materialized in her room, a silhouette of a man. The presence seemed both ominous and familiar, casting an eerie spell over the realm of her subconscious.