Once, my paranoid love

I turned down Mr. Obin’s offer of the registration card, signaling my disinterest in the legalities of the marriage. “Give it to your boss, Mr. Obin. I don’t need this,” I stated firmly, emphasizing my detachment from the document.

With that decision made, I exited the building, stepping out into the world beyond. As I emerged into the daylight, I was greeted by Pom, who was waiting for my arrival with eagerness evident in her cheerful demeanor.

“Ma’am, how’s your husband?” She asked with a bright smile as I approached her.

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the irony of her question. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet,” I replied, my tone lighthearted yet tinged with a sense of detachment.

Pom’s eyes widened in surprise at my response. “What? So he really doesn’t come?” she asked, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief in her voice.

I nodded, a smile playing at my lips. “No, he is not here,” I confirmed, my gaze turning toward the horizon as I contemplated the path that lay ahead.Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g

The absence of my husband on this significant day was just another reminder of the unconventional journey I had embarked upon, but it was not bad. The more I and he stayed away from each other, the better for me.

**

Paul’s POV.

The sensation of waking up in the car was accompanied by a throbbing headache that pulsed in my temples. I winced as I groaned, the weight of last night’s alcohol consumption bearing down on me. It was a reminder of my indulgence, a temporary escape from the complexities of life.

As I cautiously opened my eyes, I took in my surroundings. The car interior was familiar, yet the events of the previous night felt hazy, as if shrouded in a fog of blurred memories. But then it all came rushing back, and I remembered what had transpired.

“Elena.”

Her name lingered on my lips, and I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of elation and disbelief. It was as if a long-awaited dream had finally come true. Her soft touch, so tender and real, had left an indelible mark on my memory.

With a smile that was both joyous and relieved, I whispered to myself, “I’m glad, Elena. You’ve accepted me at long last.” It was a moment I had yearned for-a chance to bridge the gap that had separated us for so long.

In the early morning light, I knew that Elena would already be awake. She was a creature of habit, rising with the dawn. The desire to see her, to hold her close, and to kiss her filled my thoughts. But for now, I have to be patient.

I dressed quickly, my heart buoyed by the prospect of a new beginning with Elena. The weight of the past had been lifted, and a sense of optimism filled me as I stepped out of the car. The world outside was bathed in the soft hues of morning, a canvas upon which our future would be painted.

**

Elena’s POV.

“Ma’am, we’re here.” Obin’s voice broke through my half-slumbered state, instantly drawing me back to wakefulness. I blinked and opened my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep that clung to me.

I hadn’t managed to get enough sleep the previous night, and now all I wanted was to close my eyes and drift back into slumber. However, the urgency of the moment compelled me to rouse myself. Mr. Obin had already exited the car and was waiting by the open door.

I gazed out of the window with sleepy eyes, taking in the sight of my new surroundings. It was as if I had stepped into a different world. The mansion before me was grand and imposing, far larger than the house I had known as my own. The sheer size and opulence of it left me momentarily awestruck.

As I stepped out of the car, I took a quick look around, absorbing the grandeur of my new home. The estate sprawled before me, and there were a multitude of maids and staff members waiting to greet me, their expressions a mix of respect and anticipation.

Mr. Obin, ever the attentive guide, spoke up once more. “Please, ma’am, go this way,” he said, gesturing for me to follow him. With a sense of both trepidation and curiosity, I complied, ready to embark on this new chapter of my life within the walls of this imposing mansion.

I followed Mr. Obin through the vast house, my eyes darting around to take in the sheer size and opulence of the place. It was a grand estate, but I couldn’t help but notice the absence of the family of the man I had married. The house felt empty, a silent testament to the infrequent presence of its inhabitants.

As we continued our tour, Mr. Obin led me into a particularly large and breathtaking room. Its grandeur was awe-inspiring, and for a moment, I found myself marveling at its beauty.

“And this is your room, ma’am,” Mr. Obin announced, gesturing around the spacious chamber. It was indeed quite large, with elegant furnishings and a sense of luxury that spoke of wealth and privilege.

However, as I looked around, I couldn’t help but feel that the room was far more than I needed. It was a reflection of a lifestyle I had not chosen for myself-a world of extravagance that felt foreign to me.

I turned to Mr. Obin, feeling the need to voice my thoughts and concerns. “Mr. Obin, can I say something?” I inquired politely, seeking clarification.

“Of course, ma’am,” he replied, his demeanor attentive and respectful.

I chose my words carefully. “Does your boss come here often?” I asked with a hint of curiosity and uncertainty in my voice. The absence of my husband’s family and the infrequent mention of his presence piqued my interest.

Mr. Obin paused for a moment, as if considering his response. “Actually, ma’am, Boss comes here quite rarely,” he admitted, his tone measured. The revelation only added to the sense of mystery that shrouded my husband’s life and habits.

As I stood in the opulent room, I couldn’t help but wonder about the man I had married. What kind of life did he lead, and what had driven him to enter into this arrangement with me?

I had made my decision clear I wanted a room that felt cozier and more in line with my preferences. The current bedroom was excessively large and imposing, a space that didn’t resonate with my sense of comfort.

“Then can I change my room? This room is excessively large, and it does not appeal to my tastes,” I stated once more, my resolve unwavering. I wanted to ensure that my living space was a reflection of my personality and needs.

However, Mr. Obin, always diligent in his duties, presented a challenge to my request. “However, ma’am, this is your and Sir’s bedroom. He stayed in this room when he visited,” he informed me, reminding me of the room’s original purpose.

I couldn’t resist a playful response. “But I think he will not like sharing a room with me,” I quipped, a playful smile on my lips. The thought of my husband sharing such an expansive space with me seemed unlikely, given our unique circumstances.

Obin sighed, seemingly resigned to my decision. “Okay, ma’am, tell me which one you like,” he conceded, his tone indicating his willingness to accommodate my wishes.

Without hesitation, I made my preference known. “I like the second one,” I replied firmly, confident in my choice. The size of the room didn’t concern me; I was more interested in creating a space that felt intimate and personal.

Obin raised a valid point once more. “But, ma’am, that room is just too small,” he pointed out, concerned about my comfort.

With a reassuring smile, I addressed his concern. “Don’t worry, Mr. Obin,” I responded. “I’ll make that room comfortable, plus I like small rooms.”

With my assurance, Mr. Obin accepted my choice. “As you say, ma’am,” he replied before leaving the room, giving me the space to make this new, smaller room my own.

As I stood in the expansive bedroom, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of agency and independence. This simple request to change my room was a small but significant step in making this unfamiliar environment feel more like home. It was a reminder that, even in the midst of a new and uncertain life, I had the power to shape my surroundings to suit my own comfort and sensibilities.

As Mr. Obin observed Elena’s decisions and interactions, he couldn’t help but form an impression of her. In his thoughts, he mused, ‘Ma’am appears to be a fairly typical person. She doesn’t give a damn about her social or financial status. In her own house, I believe she leads a regular life.’