Chapter Two

MY BROTHER GABRIEL DOESN'T LIKE POPCORN for a movie night at home. He enjoys dipping tortilla chips in ranch sauce. I joined Theresa with her large bowl of cheddar cheese popcorn. But, supplemental French fries served with garlic sauce complete the night.

What predominantly amuses me on a Saturday movie night with my family is pranking Gabriel and messing with his snacks. So, I've swapped the chips in his Doritos bag with our homemade popcorn and his ranch sauce with my garlic sauce. These fatuous pranks are more fun to me than the aggressively clichéd and cheap films our stepmom Theresa likes to watch.

I shove my body on the sofa wearing my panda onesie pajamas and am ready to sleep out of extreme boredom. Heavy curtains are shut, darkening the living room like an actual cinema, my phone is silent, and my quilt covers my warm thighs. October's vibes are finally on; short days and long nights, hot beverages, cold breezes, bushy autumn trees, cloudy days, and quiet nights. All in all, it encourages an outing, yet appeals for all-day under covers. I have never been better. This is the first moment I feel at peace and not troubled by worrisome thoughts since last week.

The threatening texts have shockingly stopped. There is no scandal published by any publication, and Abel is absent from my thoughts. A total tranquillity. I want to feel like that for the rest of my life.

"Can we watch N*****x, please?" Gab begs Theresa

"I have rented that movie from the '80s. It's kind of erotic by the way." She winks with a devilish smile, which is creepier than in her movies.

"Ugh. Not again, mom. These movies are a pain in the arse." Gab whimpers like a baby.

"Not again, Sabrina. I paid for this bag." Gabriel grumps, dipping his hand into the chips bag.

I can't stop cracking. "So?"

"Silly. Where did you pack my chips this time?"

"20 bucks if you guess it right this time." I pull the money from my pocket and swing it in the air to show it off.

"The cupboard?"

"You lose." I don't want to give him another chance because I need my 20 bucks. "Wait, I will get your chips." I get up to head out of the half-dark room. It is only lightning by the Television light and the sunset light.

As I walk out of the living room to head upstairs, I bring to a halt an alarming sight. I've caught a glimpse, and I am shaking like a leaf. Is this him at the front door? Through the side glass panels of the house's modern black door, he is standing in his classic blue suit, jet black four-in-hand tie, white shirt, and brown monk strap shoes. His jet-black phone and his dive watch are covering his cheeks while his limousine is blocking the narrow road.

It's Abel and his old chauffeur in the background waiting. I check my phone, and there is a missed call from Abel a second ago. It counts as the ignored call number fifty for this week. The picture is not the main reason for avoiding his calls and texts for the past week but is my unready response. I am not as mad as expected. But I am more disappointed than I should be. It has to happen when you are dating a 23-year-old millionaire who has the blood of a multimillionaire family, which abhors anything correlated with the Conners. Even if it's growing indirectly, aversion is subdividing and mushrooming like Cancer. If he has not spotted antipathy in him with his vision, his actions prove its existence.

I hurried rapidly to the entrance where Abel is standing and left the house. "Open that door," I demand in a low-pitched voice to the chauffeur pulling Abel's arm to the limousine.

Abel quietly gets in the car, as my heart is pounding loudly in my face. What if Theresa has seen him? What if she texts dad, and he knows that one of the Harpers has dared to step on his house's doormat? What if he finds out one of them has come closer than this. Even closer than he can ever imagine. Close to the extent that this person has reached the inside of his daughter. The thought of getting exposed makes me break out in cold sweat.

"Drive the car," I demand, and the limousine is back on the road.

Abel checks my onesie pajamas and chuckles. I can't let go of my serious face, even though I understand that I look childish and funny.

"How could you come here, Abel? This will put me in huge trouble if someone sees you. Do you want me to lose my family forever?" I can't help but fly into a rage. I can't help but shiver down my spine.

His beautiful smile is gone now, and his serious face has joined mine. In a high-pitched and sharp tone, he cries back, "You aren't answering the phone, nor my text messages for a whole week. You left Harper's all of a sudden. What is happening?"

"Why are you here?" God, please help me. I can't confront him.

"I am here to see my wife because she is ignoring my phone calls and messages. Am I clear, Sabrina?" He emphasizes sharply, but the tenderness and the softness he always has in his eyes haven't departed when they meet mine.

Through the rear-view mirror, I get a glimpse of the chauffeur's puffy and hairy face turning white to what he has just heard. The chauffeur is hesitant to say something, but he stays still with a dropped jaw. I can't prevent my tear ducts from filling the surface of my eyes with tears. "You shouldn't have mentioned that here."

He gazes regretfully at the driver's presence and frowns. With a voice showing extreme regret, he apologizes, "I am sorry."

I cover my face with my palms that are wet with my tears. Abel becomes distressed because he dislikes seeing me cry. It sounds heavenly until I think he hadn't thought about me when he smeared his viscous semen on the sheets of another woman and laid his hands on her naked body.

He can't understand that I am weeping over how he is threatening and ruining our marriage. The difficulty I am experiencing to start a confrontation with him is what hurts me majorly.

Quietly, he slings his heavy arm around and pulls me on his chest. Here is where I want to be always. Here is the only place I don't want to share with anyone else or even introduce it. Our marriage is for us. It's not for anyone else. It's like a secluded isle that no one knows about except God, the coastline, and the few people who inhabit it. And Abel and I, only us, inhabit this marriage.

But, Abel seems like he wants to involve more individuals in the marriage affair. No one is supposed to know about our secret marriage except for Harpers' chauffeur, of course. Thanks to Abel.

"I love you, Sabrina." Abel taps gently on my back, where his hand is on her in that particular picture. I pull my body away from his chest.

I stare at him coldly, contemplating his face and weak look. Does it feel the same when he tells her this too? When he touches her too? "I have to go back. Can you pull the car over, please?" I asked the driver in a hurry.

Abel pauses a little while checking my stern face. "What is wrong? Talk to me."

"I think we should have a break."

"A Break?" He raises his eyebrows and scornfully repeats me. "We are married."

"Married people can also have a break. Married people need space too. And don't worry, you won't find any difference, since I am never involved in your world as the son of the king of petroleum. You won't miss me anywhere since we haven't ever lived together. You won't even remember you are married since you never wear your wedding ring." I pointed my eyes to his bare left hand, keeping my stern face. "You will be fine."

"Nonsense. I will give you the break but know that you exist, even in the places we have never been to because you dominate the essence of my heart, which passes by every place and every human being. My heart always reminds me of you, Sabrina." He presses his lips on my cheek for a kiss, and the car stops. "And, no, I won't be fine."

Silence eats the place up for a second then he scorns, checking his suit. "Damn girl, you are making me talk like Shakespeare."

And he spoils the romantic mood. However, this is not succeeding in pulling my feelings back to sleep because they are turned on, like everything else in me. I lean further to kiss his neck – my favorite area to kiss. He always smells like he has just taken a shower. Meanwhile, I gratefully know he won't let me go without a french kiss. They taste hot, as usual, but my mind makes them less sweet. Shall I cut him off? Shall I bring the picture's subject and ruin the moment that may never repeat.

I pull myself off, not because it is ever bad, but because it is too good. And also the chauffeur is watching. Besides the fact that he may expose our secret to Abel's family, I am also more like an introvert. So, I don't like to have intimate moments in the eyes of strangers. But this moment is still special because we have not been very touchy lately.

"Okay." I sweep my hands on his handsome face before I go. I will miss it and his warm blue eyes. I give him a smirk then I put my feet on the pavement. His car is a few blocks away, and I miss him already.

This is how we are always; a few blocks away. Maybe miles away, not just blocks. Maybe it is larger than that. He has a separate world, and I have my own. It is like we are born on a different planet. Just some papers link us to each other. I've always thought that Harper's Restaurant is like the long corridor that connects Alice's real world with her Wonderland. I think of it as a symbol, which is a meeting point between dissimilar cosmos. Since I picture and relate Abel's world with Wonderland that is behind a locked door, while I am too big for it and have no keys to be let in.

However, to be completely honest, Harper's Restaurant is merely a special place, relating to our past and present memories. The only thing that holds the relationship together is our love, which is like a bridge. I've always wanted to sign the marriage papers, build that bridge and wear his wedding ring —which I have been hiding for five months — I don't regret wanting this all, but I fear what we can do with our hands because I know that if the bridge is burned by one of us, the marriage papers will ache, too.