Even while dancing and enjoying the last hour with my friends, my eyes kept perusing around the room, searching for him. It’s like he vanished into thin air.
I swear I saw him.
It couldn’t have been my imagination.
I am still spooked to my bones as I stop before the closed door. I raise my trembling fingers to the knob and close them around it. My breath escapes in a rush as I twist it and hear the telling click, indicating it’s unlocked.
The creaking noise of the wood as I push it open is music to my ears.
The dead silence and the darkness are nothing short of serenity.
The skirt of my lehnga scrapes on the floor as I step into the room. I shut the door, leaving it slightly ajar so the light from the hall can spill inside. I don’t want to switch on the lights and draw attention to myself before I’ve had my fill.
Three long agonizing years since I’ve been in here.
I thought becoming a part of his world would bring me closer to him. Little did I know he lives in a universe of his own, the walls of it erected so high and mighty, it’s barred to mere mortals like us.
This room… it’s as close to him as I’ll ever be.
If he truly didn’t come to the party, then I am losing my sanity. I didn’t even realize when my obsession became a sickness.
I should turn around before it takes its hold and becomes terminal.
Except moving my feet is akin to sawing off my own legs.
One last hit.
The thought propels me deeper into the room. Closing my eyes, I wait for the intoxicating scent of spice and dark chocolate to tease my senses.
Oh boy! It does.
It’s so strong and heady that my brain becomes dizzy. So potent, I can taste it on my lips and my tongue. So intoxicating that if the room wasn’t dark, my vision would be fuzzy.
Shouldn’t it be the opposite?
With every nook and cranny imprinted into my mind, I don’t need guidance as I walk to the tall shelf. The trophies are still sitting proudly. The alarm clock and the wristwatch resting side by side. The dent in the pillow still deep as I graze it with my palm.
My heels clap on the floor as I inch toward the closet.
Hitching my skirt up to my ankles, I carefully take a step and lose momentum when a dangerously deep voice disrupts the pin-drop silence.
“You’re in the wrong room.”
Chapter Eleven
Iris
The voice comes from right behind me, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
I whip around so fast that the hem of my skirt twists in my heel and I tumble backward with a gasp, waiting for the earth to crash onto me.
Strong arms wrap around me twice as fast that my back never touches the ground. Yet it still feels like I’m free falling off a cliff. The contact against my bare waist electrocutes the entire length of my body from the strands of my hair to the tip of my toes.
My eyes clash with light gray ones.
So light.
So unique.