Wilted Love

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Chapter 8

I laid wide awake in bed, reminiscing yesterday’s events. We’re me actually getting closer? Or was it just another mind game with Night? The fear of the unknown will always linger with Night. I turned around and faced the empty side where Night slept. Of course, he wouldn’t spend the night with me, and I’m even more ridiculous that I hoped it I’d wake up with him by my side. With a heavy sigh, I finally got up to start the day.

I walked down the stairs in just my crimson satin night gown, all the way to the kitchen. And to my great surprise, a bouquet of red roses and sunflowers with a brown paper wrapped around them on sat on top of the middle isle of the kitchen. A small smile formed on top of my lips, I couldn’t believe Night would do such thing. I grabbed the flowers, taking a small whiff. The smell of roses will forever be one of my favourite things, and especially the sunflowers. I always loved sunflowers. I loved how beautiful they were, and how they always chase after the sun, although mounted to the grown.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Night’s voice made me jump in shock. I turned around with a burst of excitement as I clutched the sunflowers flower to me.

‘Absolutely! I love them so much.’ I exclaimed, my face in awe as I continued to stare at the flowers. ‘Thank you so much, Nigh-’ I was cut off by Night’s aggressive move. He charged towards me, yanking the flowers out of my hand.

‘Thank me for what? For allowing your little lover boy to mess around with my fiancé?’ He looked at the flowers with much disgust. I was more than confused by his hurtful statement, too shocked to say anything as I looked at him with shock. He looked at me, his demeanour becoming darker than before. I slowly backed up, too afraid of what will happen.

‘Huh, Diora? Have nothing to say? Who the fuck do you think you are.’ He calmly said, which made the whole situation a lot more petrifying. How could he look so calm whilst speaking with such harsh tones? My heart dropped to the floor, as I started to shake our of fear. He continued to walk closer to me, as I walked further away. With each step, he would clench his fingers around the flowers even tighter. I could feel my heart beat in my ears thumping loudly, and my mouth dry.

‘Wh-what are you talking about Night? Aren’t they from you?’ I barely managed to get that sentenced out, and as much as I tried to hold my ground, to be strong and not let him see how badly he was affecting me, it was too hard.

‘From me?’ A roar of a laughter escaped his lip, as he shock his head. ‘It was your little fuck boy, Francis.’ He discarded the flowers across the room with so much force. He closed the gap between me and him, grabbing my wrist and pinning them to my side. I tried to squirm out of his hold, however, that proved to be much more difficult then I had expected. He lowered his face, brushing his lips against mine as he made his way to my ear, roughly whispering ‘you’re mine.’ I could smell the bourbon in his breath, the intoxicating alcohol mixed in with hints of mint.

‘The-there’s nothing be-between us Night!’ I managed to scream out loud. But he kept his head at the lower crook of my neck, not paying attention to my pleas. He rested his head a few more seconds at the crook of my neck before harshly pushing me back against the cabinet and isle. I winced from the pain but he didn’t seem to care, not at all.

‘Get up, get dressed and hurry the fuck up. I want you downstairs by 3pm - we’re meeting my parents.’ He looked at me like as if I was nothing but dirt underneath his shoe. I slowly nodded my head, too afraid to speak up. He scuffed and walked away without another word.

How can someone get mad at a bunch of flowers is beyond me and to jump to cheating conclusions... this man is walking on thin ice. How can I continue being with him if this is what’s in store for me for the rest of my life? How can I be with a man that treats me like shit, that doesn’t love me, uses and throws me away whenever he pleases?

I should have listened to my parents when they refused. I should have just looked the other way, worked harder, I should have said no. Alas, it has been done. bound by a contract that’s so hard to break, it’s either lose more than you bargained, or find evidence of infidelity. And boy, do I have my suspicions on Night’s close relationship with Aloisa. However, of course this family is too crocked, they’d do whatever in their power to make sure that he doesn’t get the end of the stick, to make me look more like the whore.

As I walked down the kitchen, I noticed a piece of paper, laying on the floor. I bent down to pick it up, noticing it had writing on it.

Dear Diora,

I hope you’re okay. I missed you yesterday... Was worried when you didn’t come.
You weren’t answering your phone either, so I brought you these flowers. I saw them today, reminded me of you, beautiful. Anyways, meet me down at The Chauté, I have a present for you ;)

- Francis x

He was just a friend, a good friend that cared. I do see Night’s side... although that behaviour is never acceptable. I just don’t understand why he’d jump to such conclusions, why he’d down a whisky drink to the point he’s drunk and unaware of his behaviour. And I guess the biggest question is why does he even care, when he’s must likely with his little nymph-whore Alosia?


I rushed down the stairs, making sure to be in the living room before Night’s arrival, wanting to spare myself another argument. I sat on the couch, staring in the abyss, contemplating everything from the day I first met Night. I fiddled with the hem of my black leather skirt, thinking about the dreadful afternoon I’m about to have. I knew that the moment I will go through those doors, Mrs Anston will be on me, with a distasteful demeanour dissecting every reason why my outfit wasn’t appropriate, and how her son deserved everything, how I can’t even compare to the finest hair on his body. She was never fond of me, never. However, she took a great liking to her son’s whore.

Mr Anston on the other hand... he was the complete opposite of his wretched wife. I have no clue what he sees in her, but it’s definitely not her pencil personality. Although he was sweet, he knew when to be assertive. That being said, it doesn’t change the fact he’s the puppet master, playing the strings and getting us to submit to everything he says and does, with his charismatic charms, he played the ‘innocent’ good guy role really well, but he was nothing but a wolf in a sheep’s clothing, masking his true intentions.

‘Let’s go.’ Night’s harsh voice brought me out of the train of thoughts. I looked at him taking in his presence. He wore black jeans and a sweater. My heart aches every time I see him, The old Night has completely been devoured by this creature, this creature who I don’t recognise.


We made it to his parents house a lot quicker then I had hoped. He intertwined his fingers with mine, as we walked to the porch door, with him reminding me how to act in front of his parents. I bit my tongue, not wanting to say anything and cause another havoc, especially when I’m right at the lion’s den. I wouldn’t make it out alive... figuratively speaking. I looked down at my chunky tan sweater, not bothering to advert my eyes up once I heard the door open, until Night spoke.

‘What are you doing here?’ Night demanded. I looked up to see who it was, and to say I was shocked was an understatement.

‘I was invited... Hello to you Night, and to the beautiful lady, Diora.’

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