Hazel trailed after Francisco, her eyes wide with awe as they entered the magnificent mansion. The opulence of the surroundings left her breathless, and she couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur that surrounded her.
The mansion was a spectacle of wealth, adorned with priceless artifacts and extravagant furnishings.
As they ventured deeper into the mansion, Hazel's gaze darted around, taking in the intricate details that adorned the walls and the polished floors beneath her feet.
Moving slowly upstairs, Hazel continued to follow Francisco. However, as they approached Francisco's bedroom, an unexpected hesitation gripped her.
Francisco turned back, his dark eyes catching Hazel's hesitation. Sensing her reluctance, he halted, giving her a questioning look.
"Is everything alright?"
"Why are you not coming?"
Hazel said in a startled manner, "Do I have to come?"
"If a lovely girl is standing in front of my bedroom door, it will be really unpleasant," Francisco replied.
"Sir, I am free to stay out here or wait for you in the drawing room," Hazel spoke.
Francisco remained silent for a moment.
After a contemplative pause, Francisco called for a maid.
"Yes, sir!"
"Escort my important guest," Francisco said in a calm tone.
"Yes, master," the maid responded with a deferential nod. She then turned her attention to Hazel and added, "Please, follow me, ma'am."
Hazel cast a fleeting glance back at Francisco, attempting to muster a smile. He stood there. As Hazel left the place under the guidance of the maid, Francisco's mind echoed with unanswered questions.
"Did you really forget me, Hazel? Whatever it is, I need to learn more about you."
After some time, Francisco personally drove Hazel to her home.
Francisco peered out from the window of his car, personally seeing Hazel off to her apartment. The street lamps cast a warm glow on the quiet neighborhood as the two figures stood beside the parked vehicle.
"So, this is your apartment?"
Hazel nodded, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Yes."
"You live here alone?"
Hazel chuckled, "No, Mr. Francisco. Actually, some of my friends stay here. We share the apartment."
Francisco stepped out of the car, his gaze sweeping the area.
"So, Mr. Francisco, I am going."
He redirected his attention to her, and out of the blue, he uttered, "Won't you invite me to your apartment?"
Hazel became taken aback by the unexpected request and hesitated for a moment. Her mind raced, unsure of how to respond. Before she could gather her thoughts, Francisco, with a sly smirk, interrupted, "It's okay."
"But I will come here to see you another time."
Francisco's demeanor, a blend of charm and mystery, intrigued her. As he climbed back into his car, the engine hummed to life, and he rolled down the window.
"Until next time, Hazel," he said, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.
As the car slowly pulled away, Hazel stood there, watching the car disappear into the night.
****
On the other side of the story.
"Let me go, Max."
Max was unmoved by her shouts and pushed her into the car. As he stepped into the car, he locked the door and started the engine. In a matter of minutes, the car accelerated.
"Max, what are you doing?"
"Don't you want to talk to him? Why don't you call him right now?"
Max gritted his teeth in response, his tone cold and detached.
After driving a short distance, Max came to a sudden stop at the corner of the road. The silence inside the car was shattered as he gripped Diana's hand with force.
"Max!"
Diana attempted to loosen his hold. However, the more she struggled, the tighter Max's grasp became.
"Diana, do you really think to call that man?"
"Yes, I will; at least I know he cares about me," Diana stated.
"He cares for you?"
Max abruptly yelled.
Diana fixed her gaze on Max.
"Indeed," she responded with a calmness.
"Indeed he does. He had never spoken to me the way you do."
Max's breath quickened. Their heavy breaths were the only sounds in the confined space as they locked eyes, each word a gaze at a battlefield of emotions.
Suddenly, the fragile tranquility was shattered.
A sharp, breaking sound echoed in the car; Max had broken the window glass on her side.
"Max!"
Diana's voice softened. She hadn't anticipated such a visceral reaction from him.
Diana's eyes fixed on the window, and her brows arched in surprise as she spotted the telltale stain of blood on the shattered glass. The reality of Max's bleeding hand struck her.
"Max, stop it."
Her words, however, fell on deaf ears. Max, seemingly fueled by an unrelenting anger, continued the incessant honking.
"Max, will you stop it!"
She shouted.
In an abrupt movement, she reached for Max's hand, stained with his own blood, and forcibly pulled it away from the horn.
"Is this a joke to you? Can't you see your hand is bleeding?"
Diana retrieved a cotton ball and antiseptic from her bag.
With a delicate touch, Diana pulled and began to tend to Max's wound. The antiseptic-soaked cotton ball traced the contours of his injured hand. Surprisingly, Max made no sound, and his stoic demeanor suggested an ability to endure physical pain with silent resilience.
"Why do you want to contact him?"
Max's sudden question pierced the quiet air. She sighed, a heavy exhale.
"I don't want to talk about it," Diana replied.
Max, tightening his jaw, abruptly yanked his hand from her lap at her response.
"Max, it's..."
Diana began, attempting to explain.
"Let it bleed. I don't want your sympathy," Max retorted.
"As a doctor, I need to treat your wound."
Max started the car as if he hadn't heard anything. The engine's low hum drowned out Diana's words.
Diana pressed her lips together.
Max, you are hurting yourself by hurting me, right?
But I will not back down on my word. If you love me, then why don't you keep my word?
As the car moved forward, the echoes of Diana's unspoken thoughts reverberated in the quiet space between her and Max.