5

"I thought it would bother you," I communicate, furrowing my brow. "The contract clearly stated not to ask personal questions to the other party."

"After all the times you've broken my rules, you didn't break that one?" I chuckle, caressing my wrists.

She watches me with a mischievous smile on her lips. I rest my elbows on the table and place my cheek in my open palm. We gaze at each other, her eyes shining with curiosity.

"I didn't want to go to jail," I let her know, smiling.

It's the first conversation where we're not killing each other with our glances over something the other says or does. She clenches her jaw, growling softly, and her face relaxes into a smile.

Well, it was the first conversation.

"I want to know what image you have of me," she informs.

I sigh, grabbing my bag where my phone lies—the tool that would be my escape key.

"Not knowing it hasn't kept you up at night," I stand up, and she imitates me. "And don't you dare try to stop me," I raise my right index finger, and she purses her lips into a thin line. "Arthur, I don't want the last time we see each other to be a bad memory."

I take my glass of juice, walk around the table confidently, and approach him. Standing centimeters away from his body, I extend the drink to him. He takes it, confused but attentive to every move I make. I bite my cheek and place my right hand on his right cheek. The warmth of his body makes me shiver, but I don't show it. He lifts his free palm and places it on top of mine, caressing it.

I smile nervously.

"Take it for me, so you can sweeten your life and laugh more often," he grumbles, hiding a smile. I exhale. "You look very cute when you laugh."

Not understanding me, he leaves the glass on the table and brings his face even closer to mine. I swallow hard as our noses touch.

"What did you say?" he murmurs, confused.

Just like a small child when they don't understand something.

I caress both cheeks as he sends electric currents through my body with his touch on my hips. He gently squeezes them between his fingers, and I lick my lips, pushing my hair away from my face.

"I hope you're happy," he observes my lips, distracting me as well. "Being an idiot doesn't take away your right to happiness."

He looks into my eyes again, feigning annoyance.

"You'll never learn to control that mouth of yours," he pulls me closer, brushing his lips against mine. I lick my lips, closing my eyes, savoring his taste and feeling his warm breath caress my cheeks.

I follow his kiss, a slow and brief one. When I pull away from his mouth, I plant a kiss on his cheek and step back. I offer him a smile accompanied by a wink when I notice him taking a sip from the glass as I walk away. I feel his gaze on my body, which motivates me to sway my hips and toss my hair back to tease him.

"You won't escape from me so easily, baby. You're still mine," I don't know what the hell he's saying.

I simply show him my middle finger without daring to look back, licking my lips unable to stop smiling and shedding tears at the same time.

It was a farewell, but to what we were.

Not to what will happen if he finds out about our child.

It angers me, it frustrates me, but I also like it because you're the only one who can drive me crazy like this.

My dear.

Beautiful as always.

That's what drives me even crazier about you.

You won't escape from me so easily, babe. You're still mine.

Days later.

Axel didn't agree with that rule I have to follow after the divorce. The one about not being with someone for six months.

It refers to not being seen with anyone in public, I suppose Arthur was seeking his benefit in this. Seeing me with someone else six months later, not counting the four months I spent chasing him to sign the stupid divorce papers, would make him look like the abandoned one.

The husband was left for another.

What a stupidity.

Axel didn't like it, but I didn't care.

If he only knew that in my mind, I didn't plan on being with anyone else for a long time. The only person I envision by my side is Arthur. Even though it pisses me off a lot, he always remains there.

Following that rule won't be difficult for me. Because no one seems to interest me more than him.

And despite that, I keep my distance. I haven't seen him, haven't heard from him, and haven't read anything about him.

If I want my baby to grow strong, I have to take care of myself. And knowing about his father always destabilizes me.

I sigh and take out my card from my bag to pay for the purchases. I curiously look towards the door when I hear the noise of people talking and familiar sounds.

When I realize what's happening, I pale.

"No, damn it," I mutter, grabbing the card.

The cashier starts bagging my items while the journalists are on the other side of the door with their cameras and microphones. I feel the flashes on my face. I run to the first aisle that is considerably far from the door and hide.

I tremble with panic and fear. When I was with Arthur, I could handle being in front of them; he was my support. But alone, I was nothing against those people.

Undesirable memories of a time when I was found alone on the street come to me. I ended up hiding for long hours in a brothel and experiencing uncomfortable situations with men.

I swallow, trying to control my breathing.

Calm down, I must stay calm.

I wasn't calm, not as I should be. I rummage through my purse for my cell phone, my fingers trembling as I search for his number among my few contacts.

I feel my eyes burn as I hear the shouts of the journalists and paparazzi.

I gulp as he answers.

"I need you," I immediately blurt out, sobbing.

I can't succumb to my fear.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling okay? Is everything okay with the baby? Are you dizzy? Nauseous again?"

He says everything quickly, not giving me time to find the right words to talk to him. My eyes see the people trying to break down the center's door. I end up babbling and repeatedly running my free hand through my hair.

"Come, please. I'm at the center. They're here, and I... I can't do it alone, I can't..."

"Wait for me."

I don't know how much time passes; I only know that I'm mentally singing "Happy" by Pharrell Williams.

Each word of the song calms me and takes me to a place in my mind where it's not as distressing and suffocating as it is now.

How did they find me? He gave me his word.

He said he would make sure they never found me, did he do it as revenge?

Was he capable of taking my fears and using them against me?

The idea shatters me. Tears stream down my face as I embrace myself, I look at the door, and when I notice his black hair and quick steps, I stand up and go to the cashier.

"Fuck. I knew you couldn't come alone," I nod.

He has been begging me all day not to go, but there was nothing to eat in the apartment. There was no fruit! Lately, I eat a lot of it, especially bananas.

I couldn't stay there. He offered to go but ended up doing something else that took up all his time. By the time he could have free time, the supermarket could be closed.

I take his hand, pulling him to the dairy aisle, wiping my cheeks and looking at him nervously and fearfully.

My eyes go to his cheeks; they're flushed, but not from blushing, but rather from scattered paint stains. I lower my gaze to his arms and T-shirt; both have stains of paint in different sizes and colors.

I sob, receiving a hug from him.

"How will we get out of here? I'm sorry for interrupting you with this, but I can't..."

"Shh, just be quiet. You're not interrupting anything. The best thing you did was call me. Stay here and put this on; I have an idea."

Only now do I notice the backpack on his shoulders, just as stained as his T-shirt? I take the hood he gave me and put on the cap, caressing my belly over the loose blue dress I'm wearing.

He goes to the cashier, they talk for several minutes, and then he returns. I look at him with furrowed brows and tight lips, impatient.

I can't stand the sound of their cameras and the appalling way they bang on the door, demanding it to be opened.