chapter 11

The hand wrote on the book with enthusiasm. The black pen against the book was something the writer had gotten accustomed to in a short period of time. He wrote down,

Dear diary,

For the first time, I'm convinced that I am doing the wrong thing but I can't seem to stop myself. Every passing day I have my patience deteriorating and....

He hesitated before sighing and tearing the page off. Closing the book, he threw it on the table and laid on the couch jadedly.

---

Clarissa quickly turned when she noticed him staring. Presently, she was trying the zipper of her dress but her hands fumbled with the zipper instead. She cursed silently with a groan. She had always done this trick before, so she didn't understand what went wrong.

She nervously turned to see if he was still watching her but turned back almost immediately when she noticed his presence behind her.

"You should have asked for my help already," he started. "Or are you too shy to do that too?"

"No, I was handling it." He shook hi