Chapter 558 Enveloped in Slumber
The touch was so achingly familiar. The scent was a haunting echo of the past. The heartbeat, a rhythm that once beat in sync with her own. Each sensation stirred the dormant affections and yearnings Patricia had kept locked away in the depths of her heart.
Tears cascaded down her cheeks, their descent unnoticed in the throes of her emotional turmoil. They soon saturated James's thin shirt, a testament to her silent grief.
Sensing her tears, a flicker of concern passed over James's eyes. Instinctively, he reached out to comfort her, his hand hovering over her clenched fist. But before his fingers could make contact, a voice from behind halted him. "Martin..."
At the sound of that name, James's movements ceased abruptly. His hand hung suspended in mid-air, and his thoughts, previously a whirlwind of confusion, suddenly snapped into sharp focus.
Patricia nestled her head against the back of his, her voice choked with emotion. "Martin, I miss you so much... I really miss you..."
James felt as though his heart was being slowly constricted by an unseen silvery thread, each tightening coil leaving deep, painful impressions. Drops of blood seemed to seep from these invisible wounds.
He wanted to correct her, to tell her he was James, not Martin. He didn't want to be mistaken for another man. But despite several attempts, the words remained unspoken, trapped on the tip of his tongue.
The early morning breeze brought with it a slight chill, its gentle caress sweeping away the lingering heat of summer. They remained locked in their embrace, the passage of time marked only by James's intermittent coughs. The figure behind him stiffened, her hand slowly unwinding from his waist.
His heart felt hollow as her touch receded.
With her face pressed against James's back, Patricia managed a bitter smile. "Sometimes I really wish you were Martin. I know it's not fair to you, but I can't help it. I miss him too much."
James was rendered speechless.
"I know you're not Martin because I can't think of any reason you wouldn't acknowledge me."
With these words, Patricia stepped back, turned, and walked away, leaving behind an air of desolation. James remained rooted to the spot, the sound of her retreating footsteps echoing in his ears. His hands clenched into tight fists, the veins on the back of his hands standing out in stark relief.
That night, Patricia lay in bed, her sleep restless and fitful. She clutched the pillow tightly, her face glistening with sweat, her lips moving in a silent monologue.
"Martin, run, Charlotte is going to kill you..."
"Martin, where are you? You won't die, you just can't…"
"I can't let you die. What would I do without you? And our child…"
"Martin…"
"Sob sob…"
"Martin, where are you? I can't find you!"
"Run, run…"
Her pleas grew increasingly desperate, piercing the silence of the night with their chilli ng clarity.
James had been reclining on the living room couch when the distressing cries reached his ears. Startled, he sat up abruptly, his feet carrying him swiftly toward the bedroom door. He rapped on the wood, his knuckles echoing in the quiet house.
Again and again, he knocked, but the silence on the other side remained unbroken.
A sense of unease crept up his spine, lodging itself firmly in his throat as he reached for the doorknob. With a quick twist, he unlocked the door, pushing it open with a sense of dread.
The room was bathed in the soft, yellow glow of the wall lamp, casting long shadows on the walls. Patricia lay in the center of the room, her tear-str eaked face and damp pillowcase immediately catching his eye.
Patricia was still caught in the throes of her nightmare, her murmurs filling the room with an eerie echo.
"Ma rtin, run… danger, run…"
"Don't worry about me, just run… run…"
James felt a pang of sympathy for her. He quickl y fetched a warm washcloth from the bathroom, gently wiping away the tears that clung to her lashes and the sweat that beaded on her forehead.
As soon as the warm cloth made contact with her skin, her hand shot out, gripping his tightly.
"Martin, don't leave me…"
He attempted to extricate his hand from her grasp, but she held on with a desperate strength.
"Don't leave me, don't go…"
Her words were punctuated by fresh tears, spilling from the corners of her eyes and tracing wet paths down her cheeks.
James felt a heaviness settle in his chest, as if it were stuffed with cotton, suffocating him.
Seeing Patricia's refusal to let go, he used his free hand to continue wiping away her tears and sweat, his touch as gentle as a feather.
He managed to clear away the sweat, but the tears seemed to multiply, cascading down her cheeks in an unending stream.
"Martin, I miss you so much… Please don't go, don't leave me…"
With a heavy sigh, James set the cloth aside on the nightstand. Leaning in close, he whispered soothingly into her ear, "Sweetheart, I'm here. Can you let go of me, please?"
Patricia, still ensnared in her dream, seemed to register his words. She pouted, shaking her head in refusal.
"No… won't let go… If I do, you'll leave…"
A sense of bittersweetness washed over James as he watched her cling to him. Left with no other choice, he laid down beside her on the bed.
As soon as he settled, Patricia moved towards him, wrapping herself around him like a vine around a tree. She nestled into his chest, her limbs entwining with his as she let out a sigh of contentment.
James gently lifted her head, tucking it into the crook of his arm. His other hand came to rest on her waist, pulling her closer into a protective embrace.
Patricia shifted slightly, seeking the most comfortable position.
Remarkably, she didn't dream or murmur for the rest of the night. Instead, she slept soundly, a serene smile gracing her lips as she slumbered until the morning light roused her.
As she slowly opened her eyes the next morning, fragments of the previous night's nightmare flashed through her mind.
In her dream, Martin had been pursued relentlessly. Despite her pleas for him to run, he had refused, ultimately sacrificing himself to save her.
The memory of the dream left her feeling distraught, the echoes of her sobs still lingering in her ears.
Then...
Then James appeared.
She had clung to him, unable to let go.
Ultimately... they had ended up holding each other, finding solace in their shared warmth as they slept through the night.
As the realization dawned on her, Patricia's eyes widened in shock. She sat up abruptly, her gaze darting around the room.
But the space beside her was empty, devoid of any presence.
Patricia ran a hand through her tousled hair, her mind a whirlwind of confusion as she struggled to separate the events of the previous night from her dream.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
James's voice echoed from the hallway, "Are you awake?"
Patricia rushed to respond, her voice ringing out, "Yes, yes, I'm up!"
James entered the room, his demeanor as calm as ever. "I had breakfast sent up from the hotel this morning, but it's probably cold by now. Why don't you freshen up, and I'll go warm it up for you?"
Patricia studied his unchanging expression, the doubt in her mind growing stronger. For a moment, she was convinced that the previous night had been nothing more than a dream.
Noticing her silence, James looked at her with concern. "What's on your mind? Did you hear me?"
Patricia met his gaze, her voice serious as she asked, "Last night... what happened—"
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
