Once, my paranoid love

In the dim and cold confines of the basement, Paul lay on the hard ground, his gaze fixated on the unforgiving concrete ceiling. The isolation and despair had taken a toll on his mental state, and it was clear that he had become a mere shadow of the person he once was.

Suddenly, the basement door creaked open, and a maid entered, breaking the eerie silence that had enveloped the room. Her presence prompted Paul to shift his gaze in a peculiar manner, a reflection of the mental turmoil he was enduring. He inhaled deeply, as though attempting to ground himself in reality, and then spoke with an air of desperation.

“Eat something.”

“Call Elena, or I won’t eat,” Paul demanded, his voice laced with a mixture of urgency and a yearning for connection.

The maid, who had likely encountered Paul’s stubbornness before, took a deep breath, bracing herself for the task at hand. “Boss said you have to finish your food,” she replied, her tone indicating that she was only following orders.

Paul’s eyes narrowed as he processed her response. Slowly, he rose from the cold ground, the discomfort of his surroundings palpable. He reached up to rub his forehead, a gesture of frustration, and posed the question that had been haunting him.

“Where is Elena?” he asked, his voice trembling with a sense of longing.

“She went out with the boss,” the maid explained, her words carrying a hint of reluctance.

Paul, overcome by a wave of anger and desperation, couldn’t contain his emotions any longer. He abruptly stood up and lunged toward the maid, his fingers curling as if to grasp her neck. His face contorted with rage, but his movement was abruptly halted by the invisible barrier of the cage that held him captive.

In his frustration, Paul clenched the bars of his cage and shouted, “I will kill him,” his voice echoing in the confined space.

The maid sighed, expressing a mixture of pity and irritation in her response. She spoke with a resigned tone, acknowledging the futility of reasoning with someone in Paul’s state. “I’ll come back in a few minutes; finish your food,” she stated before turning to walk away.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

As she left the basement, she couldn’t help but mutter to herself, “Such a mental!” On the other side of the door, Paul’s shouts continued to echo, a testament to the turmoil and desperation that had taken root in his once stable and confident psyche.

**

The commotion at the university continued as Nikita cried out in agony, clutching her hand in pain. The abrupt and unexpected incident had left those in the vicinity bewildered, and Tina wasted no time in expressing her indignation.

“He hit you? What gives him the right to do that?” Tina demanded, her tone marked by righteous anger.

But Nikita, still recovering from the shock and discomfort, wasn’t in the mood for further discussion. She silenced Tina with a dismissive gesture, her focus on soothing her injured hand.

“Keep your mouth shut. I’m not in the mood to talk,” Nikita snapped, her frustration evident.

Meanwhile, Derek, having finished his phone call, was preparing to leave the campus. He reassured the person on the other end of the line, “It should be fixed. I’ll show up on time.” With his business resolved, he turned to head out.

However, as he moved, he collided with Ron, a fellow student who had unexpectedly crossed his path. The impact of the collision prompted an immediate reaction from Ron.

“Damn it!” Ron exclaimed, his irritation evident.

“Are you blind? Can’t you see?” He fired back, not one to mince words.

Derek responded, “I’m not blind like you, kid.”

Ron, taken aback by Derek’s assertive response, couldn’t help but engage in some further probing. “Who is the little one? What are you doing here, man?” Ron inquired, assessing Derek from head to toe with a critical eye.

Derek, uninterested in explaining his presence, maintained his dismissive attitude. “That’s none of your business, kid,” he replied, pushing past Ron and heading for his car.

Ron, left somewhat puzzled by the encounter, murmured to himself, “Weird.” His curiosity was piqued by the stranger’s abrupt appearance and confident demeanor, leaving him with lingering questions about the man who had crossed his path.

**

“So he was the one who saved your life?” Eva asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

I nodded in response. “Yes,” I confirmed, the memory of that fateful night still vivid in my mind.

Eva, with genuine interest, inquired further. “What about Paul?” Her voice softened as she mentioned my brother’s name, an indication of the close bond we shared.

I took a moment to explain, “Derek promised me that he would take Paul to one of the greatest psychiatrists in town.” The weight of my brother’s struggles was never far from my thoughts, and Derek’s commitment to helping him offered a glimmer of hope.

Eva sighed, understanding the complexities of the situation. She offered a comforting perspective, acknowledging the stark differences between Derek and Paul. “Look, I’m glad you’re happy with Derek. He’s not like Paul, either,” she reassured me.

Eva’s warm and understanding smile revealed the depth of her friendship and concern. She leaned in closer and spoke in a soft, caring voice. “Elena, you are okay, right?”

I pressed my lips together, recognizing that in Eva’s presence, I didn’t need to conceal my feelings. She knew how much I loved Paul, and there was no need to pretend otherwise. The struggle to let go of the past and the uncertainty of the future weighed heavily on my heart.

Seeing my reluctance to respond, Eva gently continued. “I think you should move on, Elena, and Derek loves you a lot,” she encouraged, her words carrying a sense of hope and support.

“I know, Eva,” I admitted, my voice tinged with a heavy heart. “But I don’t know if I’m able to forget him or not. I am trying.”

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted by an unexpected presence. Ron, who entered the room with an air of nonchalance, diverted our attention from the heartfelt exchange. His words, laced with an unsettling familiarity, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Wow, my honey bun is now at college,” Ron declared, his tone suggestive and inappropriate.