CHAPTER 3 - The Bliss

Athena's POV

"You mentioned that I was the only person who never judged you. But you still let them judge and belittle me because you love them too much. Loving you was never easy, but I chose to love you in every way possible every day, regardless of the circumstances or obstacles. Nonetheless, you gave up far too soon and far too easily. You never gave me a chance to prove myself to them because I don't believe you trust me on this, which is excruciatingly painful. And the worst part is that I'm getting used to it because You. Let. Them.

And, by the way, I still adore you. But, yes, I despise you."

I read the text again, sighed deeply, scribbled a few final phrases, and eventually shut my laptop. I had been so focused on my clients recently that I almost had no time to finish writing my own book. Likewise, I had been a writer since I was a child. I was a loner who does not trust easily and has very few friends. My parents were so busy as chefs at a popular restaurant that they did not have time for me, so I made it a point to find an outlet as a form of diversion and discovered writing. I dabbled at first, but soon discovered that this activity was a fantastic eye-opener for me. I was able to express my actual sentiments and share my viewpoint without fear of being criticized.

I retained and even excelled at my writing talents as I grew older. I had a multitude of ideas that I could quickly put into action as soon as my fingers touched my laptop keyboard. Aside from food, I was also a successful writer. I type gracefully whenever I feel overwhelmed by my emotions, and I write everything down. I was working on a book that I expect to publish soon.

I had recently been unable to constantly write for my book due to the various clients and conflicting schedules I needed to adhere to. I was confident of having the book published within three months, but due to this, it took me about five months to complete. My editor was incredibly accommodating of the circumstances and my timetable. I had been friends with my editor since I started writing novels three years ago, and I did not want to let her down, despite suffering writer's block constantly because I barely had any time to rest. More importantly, I intended to publish the book, since it is a re-telling of my life from an entirely different perspective.

I sat on my bed and closed my eyes tightly, attempting to unwind. Then I remembered what had happened three days previously. I barely remember being comforted over time because I was used to dealing with things on my own, being the independent lady my parents raised me to be. Knowing how to stand on my own two feet and live in my own flesh is beautiful and rewarding, but it has also made me distrustful of everyone. It made me believe that trust is difficult, if not impossible, to acquire.

But something weird happened three days ago. I allowed someone to see witness my vulnerability, and I even allowed myself to be soothed. And I realized I had been craving for that type of compassion. I felt this strange urge to be vulnerable again, as long as I am with him.

Cloud.

That name kept coming back to me, and I wished to see and hear his voice again. I recalled the way he looked at me as I cried my heart out in his arms. I can tell he's worried ill by the look on his face. And now I suppose I can still smell his masculine scent. I found myself enveloped in his arms, in his deep embrace, for the first time, as he sought to soothe and comfort me. Being the powerful woman I was, it was an odd sensation for me to feel safe and protected by those broad arms. And I can still hear his calm and soothing voice as he assured me that I can count on him whenever I am ready to speak and disclose the cause for my breakdown.

BEEP!

My musings were cut short when my phone beeped. I reached for my phone on my bedside table and opened an unknown number's message.

"Hello, Athena. What's going on? I was already missing your specialties. Do you mind if I hire you as my personal chef?"

— Cloud

I react with a smile after reading his message and seeing his name on the screen.

"Wow, I'm pleased to hear that someone appreciates my dishes. But, I'm afraid I don't feel you can pay my professional charge as your personal chef."

I texted him and waited for his response. He texted back after what seemed like a lifetime.

"Yes, that is feasible. I am willing to sell all of my assets in order to hire you. I can live like a beggar, since I know a scrumptious feast awaits me on the underground bridge."

I laugh when I read that. I paused for a while, glanced at my watch and calendar, and breathed a big sigh. I eventually found the confidence to type my response after a little internal discussion.

"You'd better be confident about it. Now I'm going to cook some Rosemary Chicken. If you are not at my door within an hour, you need to find a new cook."

I pressed the send button. I was anxious about his response. My mind began to whirl with negative thoughts. Is he going to think I'm an easy girl? Clingy or yearning for attention, for example? Will he be —

BEEP!

My phone beeped once more. I exhaled anxiously and collected the confidence to open the message. I read the message with shaky hands, and it took all my anxieties away. I flashed a warm smile on my face.

"Athena, I'm willing to trade anything for your dishes. But, more than that, I'm willing to go through hell just to see you again. I'm already on my way."

I smiled brightly as I placed my phone on my bedside table. Then, swaying and singing, I made my way to the kitchen to begin preparing the chicken that I would roast for dinner. Our dinner.

***

Unknown POV

I was watching as the woman walked up to the table and placed the roasted chicken on it. I witnessed how lonely she was the remainder of the day because her rude boyfriend never texted her. They were scheduled to have dinner with her in the apartment, but he continuously abandoned her.

She tried to make the table as romantic as possible. The scene was great, with soothing music playing in the background, a bottle of champagne, and candles on the table. It would have been wonderful if that boyfriend had arrived.

She also appears more lovely than ever in her white gown, which goes just above her knee. Natural beauty prevails over make-up.

The woman sat down at the table and looked at the wall clock for the last time before sobbing as she realized he was no longer coming to celebrate their anniversary together.

She had been crying for a long time when a loud knock startled her back to reality. She hurried to the front door, practically racing, hoping to see him. She flung the door open and was almost ready to give him a hearty embrace. Her eyes and lips were wide open, yet there was no sound emanating from them. She then collapsed to the ground.

I gave a gratified look to the woman in white, who was now drenched in her own fiery red blood. I closed my eyes and satisfyingly licked the knife that had traces of her blood on it. I can taste how deserving she was.

I stared at the woman once more, then finally peered at the lovely object I am holding. A triumphant smile flashed on my face and heaved a sigh of relief. For all my experiences, I was already certain that she was definitely worth it. She had an innocent, good heart, and I can sense it merely by holding it on my bloodstained hands - her heart.

None of this would even matter, as I had already done what I had to do. I had already proven my case, and it undoubtedly was a good one. Just by watching her from afar, clearly, she was the kind of girl worth killing for, and it convinced me that I made the correct decision no matter what the circumstances are.