ELOISE
These days, mom is different towards me. Not like the usual harsh way she used to be but on a different dimension entirely. She barely sends me on errands, she barely ask me to do the chores moreover join the cooking in the kitchen.
But likewise for now, she surprise me with her new ways and characters. Like: she ask about my day, how was work, if I'd eaten— sometimes, I wake up and she already make my breakfast.
I don't know why she suddenly changed but something is not fair about her. I mean, she used to be this good towards me from start until I turned thirty and refused to marry. And now, she's suddenly caring and all nice. Putting up a show every now and then. And my sister Anastasia, I can't believe that one bought me a new Hermes bag. It took me almost the week to accept it from her because I don't trust her either. Both she and mom are all acting nice towards me.
God.
Madhouse filled with crazy people.
I was in the kitchen helping mom with the cooking. It's not as if she asked me to, but I just want to help. After all, she was the one that dragged me into doing the house chores in the first place.
The kitchen smelled of sizzling onions and fresh pepper. I stood beside mom at the counter, slicing vegetables while mom stirred the pot. Out of the blue, my phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at it and smiled when I saw the caller. For the past one week now, we've both been getting along like we've knew each other for years.
I just find myself finding happiness whenever we talk or chat and guess what? He is not a bad person at all. Maybe I was just the one with the crack head, always pushing people away and thinking everybody was just the same. But him? He is different. Far different from what I had assumed him to be.
He dropped a message and I typed quickly, and before I knew it again, my lips had curved into a smile. Afterwards, I dropped the phone back on the counter to continue my chores.
Another buzz came. Another reply followed. This time, I even chuckled softly.
Mom, without turning from the pot, side-eyed me even without me knowing. She didn't say a word, just kept stirring the cooking pot, but her sharp eyes caught every twitch of my face. After the third smile, she finally spoke.
"What is making you grin like goat that found yam?"
Startled, I almost dropped the knife "Ehn? Nothing! It's—just a silly message."
Mom turns now, spoon in hand, studying my facial features, "Silly message, and your teeth are shining like this? Hmm."
The situation was making feel uncomfortable now. I quickly put my phone face-down on the counter, feigning focus on the vegetables.
God, my cheeks burn. "Well, mom, I'm just… chatting a little."
It's like I pressed a button that serves her instincts right when she raised her brows and hang on hand on her hips like she always does whenever she wants to perform her African woman style. "At thirty-two, you're still hiding phone like teenager. Is it friend or… 'friend'?"
Geez.
I waved my hand dismissively, hoping she forgets about this topic and focus on her cooking. "It's nothing like that."
She's making me feel like a girl hat just saw her period for the first time.
Mom lets out a soft laugh, then gentler, she said, "Eloise, my dear, I will not drag words from your mouth. But let me tell you something: happiness is not 'nothing.' When it comes, you will know. Even your face cannot hide it."
What is she talking about now? That she could see right through me even when I'm trying to hide the slightest?
My hands paused mid-slice. For a second, I spare mom a glance, eyes wide, but quickly looked away, trying to mask the warmth rising in my chest. Mom turns back to the pot, humming softly, as though she hadn't just dropped wisdom like pepper into stew.
I thought the topic had long ended until mom came back with a good rival that almost made me pee on my pants. "Just remember—laughter that comes from your heart is medicine. Don't reject it because of pride or fear. If someone brings it, thank God. That's all I will say."
I didn't say anything back.
I swallowed hard, pretending to focus on my chopping, but when my phone buzzes again. My hand twitches toward it instinctively before I snatched it back, biting my lip. Mom doesn't look this time, but she smiles knowingly to herself as she stirs the pot.
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GEORGE
It was the weekend again. I decided to come over and see Eloise. God, I've missed seeing her in person. Not everything lat night video calls can do. Sometimes, you just need the person to be right there with you. Real and live. No filters. No resolution. Everything just real and Eloise was the type of girl that fit into that category.
Ever since we became friends, my feelings for her increased to maximum point. I crave to kiss her, hold her, talk to her, express my feelings, fears, love and care for her. She was like everything I already need. And all I'd ever wanted in life.
Knowing her brother was my best friend was one of the fear I had. A challenge i needed to overcome. He already knows me as a one time man and one nightstand alone guy when it comes to women. I don't usually do this....this thing I'm doing with Eloise with other women. Usually, I'm a game boy. Such a player. Not the committed type but along the line, something happened. Eloise happened and i believed one way or the other, she casted a spell on me.
I've never felt this way before. The way I feel for her, it's different from how I used to be towards other women in my past. She was driving me crazy and that hurts not to spend a moment with her. I needed her more than keeps but I'm also scared to hurt her. She's too precious than gold and silver. And whenever she smiles, it's like the sun was giving me its best glorious rays.
I love her dearly. She's the only one that could capture my heart and tell me what to do and how to do it, and I'll gladly obeyed.
We talked last night. I wanted to see her face on the video call but she said to be very tired and needed to rest on time.
Oh, how I wish I was right there beside her..... I'd have kissed her to sleep, or given her a good shoulder and head massage or cuddle her, or even.....give her a good sex. The latter would have been much more better because at that moment, she needed to feel the oxytocin.
I stood in front of the door, holding two little fancy paper bags. A little gift shopping I had done before coming her. The knock had barely left my knuckles when the door swung open. A woman—older—not too older, like to be in her late forties or early fifties, eyes sharp but kind—studied me with surprise. She was clearly her mother because the resemblance was evident enough. I straightened a little, the two bags in my hands suddenly feeling too small for the moment.
She was like unsure: "Good morning…?"
I show up my practiced smile, bowing my head slightly, "Good morning, ma'am. Forgive me for showing up unannounced. I came to see your daughter."
Her brow arched, then softened with an amused smile. The English accent in my voice seemed to catch her ear.
"You're..." Her eyes study me again. This time, in full body view like she was trying to read out something from my looks and outfit. "Ah. You are her friend? The one that makes her sleep late at night and wake up late the next morning?"
I swear, I had to laugh because it was true. "Yes, honestly. And I sincerely apologise if that affects the house too."
Her laughter rang warm. She turned and called toward the staircase. A part of me tensed—half excited, half guilty. I had no business knowing where she lived, but I couldn't keep away.
"Eloise! Come down, baby. You have a guest."
And there she was. Bed-tousled, loose shirt, hair unbrushed—but still, she stopped me cold. She froze on the stairs when her eyes found me, those eyes widening as if I'd walked straight out of her dreams and nightmares both. She muttered under her breath, a faint groan I barely caught.
"Not again…"
Her mother teased her, calling me tall and handsome. I didn't miss the blush crawling up her neck. When she reached the bottom step, her glare was sharp enough to cut glass.
Low and demanding, she said, "What are you doing—"
I cut her off softly, holding out the bags before she could spit fire. "For your mother… and for you."
She hesitated, but she took it. Her mother's smile was enough reward for me; kindness met with kindness. And then she excused herself, leaving the two of us in the quiet doorway. Alone. Exactly where her daughter didn't want us to be.
"Good morning." I started and her response was a bed glare at me. I didn't mind anyway. "You look gorgeous even from your sleep." I swear, I had to admit the truth.
She frowned, crossing her arms. "Please, don't annoy me. You just showed up again without informing me first."
Yeah, she's right. She hates the idea of uninvitation. "I apologise. I wanted to tell you about it last night but you were too tired for a talk."
Matter-of-factly.
She didn't say anything. Just rolled her eyes and walked back into the house. I followed her because I thought it was her way of silent gestures, shutting the door quietly behind me.
When it was time to leave, she walked me to the gate. Each step, she kept her arms folded, shoulders squared, her mouth ready to spit another warning—but I heard the quickness of her breath. She was tired of me, or tired of resisting me. Maybe both. I slowed when we reached the gate, unwilling to let the moment slip too quickly.
Finally, she hesitated. "You can't keep doing this. First, my dad. Now, my mom likes you already—imagine if she knew the half of it."
I kept quiet for a while, watching her and studying her beautiful morning face. "Imagine if she knew nothing but that I respect you."
Her eyes flicked to mine, sharp but unsure. I felt it then—the pull. The one I'd been holding back from since the day of the accident.
She asked, guarded: "What now?" I didn't see myself answering but staring straight into her hazel eyes and she asked again, "George?"
I leaned in before she could retreat, brushing my lips gently against hers. A soft kiss. Not demanding, not rushed—just a truth laid bare. For a second, she went completely still. Her eyes wide, breath caught. I pulled back, searching her gaze, my own heart thundering louder than I expected.
God. Even her lips tasted great too. I wonder what it would feel like to have more of her in bed.
Stunned, she managed to whisper the words, "You—You kissed me."
I didn't deny it. "Yes. And I'll wait for you to tell me not to do it again." my voice low and steady.
But she didn't say it. Her hand rose to her lips as if testing if it had really happened, her cheeks flushing, her whole composure faltering for once. She spun toward the house, muttering something I couldn't catch, stumbling slightly on the step. I smiled faintly to myself, letting her retreat. Because now I knew—I had just shaken her walls. And she'd never be able to look at me the same way again.