Chapter 25

Careless Whisper

Author's Point of View

"How is my wife?" his voice held anguish as he stood on his feet before the doctor who had come out from her room on the second floor of Angels Hospital. He encountered the doctor when he came to the reception area to clear his head while the doctor was taking care of her.

"She is fine and will get better if she stops her diet that was extremely hard. Also, Mr. Crawford, I have a suspicion that she has provoked her vomiting because I saw damage to her throat that is usually caused by reflux. Based on what her family said, she has been a patient with bulimia, and I fear that she might have fallen back into that pit. If you don't have a family psychologist, I can suggest one."

The doctor did not attempt to keep the patient's information confidential, as Sarahi requested, because in all his experience he believes that family can help overcome everything.

"Thank you, doctor, for your honesty and for taking care of her secretly." Amor closed his eyes, took a deep breath to swallow what he just heard from the doctor. After expressing his regards, he gently smiled at the reception nurse and made his way upstairs. He was seeing red now. 

He stormed inside her room, startling her and her parents. "Amor," she whispered as he stared at her angrily. His beautiful aquamarine eyes were lost in the dark, and a shiver crossed her heart, fearing him for the first time. 

"Where did I fail, Maya? What have I done that is so unforgivable for you to go into this suicide plan, to hurt yourself?" He yelled at her, not caring for her parents and closing the distance between them, causing her to fear not physical harm from him, but from the painful words he could speak. Understanding that the doctor must have spilled the truth. 

"Amor," her voice trembled as she tried to communicate with her eyes, but the man was like stone and he wasn't backing down from his stance.

"Agustin, step back! You are frightening her. She isn't well after the food poisoning she had." Her father stepped in between, trying to stop him, but a glimpse of a tear on her eyelashes hurt and infuriated him. "Don't you dare, Sarahi! Don't you dare cry!" He pushed past her father and grabbed her arms, not realizing that her left arm was already hurt from the fall. "How could you do this to me, to us, huh?" He questioned, heartbroken, staring at her as she cried and tried to touch his face, but he pushed her hands away and forced her to sit on the bed. Her parents immediately came to her, but she didn't want them, she wanted him. They looked at each other, both hurt, he was beyond broken. Shaking his head in disappointment at her, he left her alone. Alone because she wanted his arms and words, not her family.

“Amor,” she whispered painfully, sobbing at her father's arm as her mom gently petted her head.

Her parents understood what she had done, but were shocked at Amor's attitude. He didn't come to pet her and try to be nice, but on the contrary came furious. They feared what would have happened if they were not there. Was he capable of hurting her?

Night came and he wasn't anywhere; she had called him several times but he didn't pick up once.

 The moon was hiding behind the clouds that threatened a chaotic thunder.She was settled in her spot next to the window, making spiral patterns on the glass following the cloud's movement. Her right hand was under the bandage that provided safety after her falling and his hard grabbing. Sarahi had never seen him like that, not him, but no one else had tried to yell at her, fearing Robert who was just a breath away. The last one who tried something against her is still recovering from the unknown assault he had after playing smart with her.

You must remember a conversation she had with Calypso at the very beginning. There, someone took her car and supposed that she was inside, driving wasted on the streets of LA. That shocking news brought her back to her family, because her father almost had a heart attack. She left the runway world for good, as her focus was on her family. If it wasn't for Amor, she would never step again on the runway, but hadn't thought that her return after months would lead to this disastrous event.

He interrupted her train of thought, with his shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves rolled up, his jacket thrown over his shoulder and maintained with his left index finger. His hair was messy, like he had been trying to style it but somehow failed. The light that emanated from the main chandelier gave his sky eyes an unknown mysticism. She was left speechless and thoughtless before him as he put his jacket over the chair and went to the restroom without saying a word to her.

This was a silent treatment she herself applied for a week. A tear rolled down, fearing that the crack between them was so bad that it could never be fixed again.

She heard the shower on and thought that he would take his time, but he emerged from the restroom holding his wardrobe and came to her. He sat on her couch and removed her socks. She was bewildered watching him but didn't dare to say anything. He gently took her hand and made her stand in front of him. He removed her trousers and her panties, then freed her bandage. He took off her sweater in the most delicate way possible, leaving her bare before his eyes. He could see her goosebumps arising all over her silky skin, her nipples becoming perky due to the cold and from her desire for him. He removed his wardrobe, leaving him naked before her wondering eyes.

He took her hand and walked toward the bathroom.

The steam created a foggy space that enveloped their bodies inside. His hand, filled with moisturizer, started to run gently over her back, then her arms, then came to her belly. She suppressed a moan, but soon she was unable to control it as his hands captured her breasts. She felt him behind her, and all she wanted was to be pushed against the wall and let him take her to wondrous places. He left her breasts and knelt down before her. 

Rubbing her legs with more moisturizer, he heard her moan like an enchanting melody of a siren. He couldn't control his smile that had painted his face, especially he couldn't control his lower parts that desired enjoyment like he did in his teenage years, when just one playboy picture could make him come undone.

His fingers reached her hidden cave that held the elixir of his tormented heart. She trembled under his touch as he explored her cave, bringing down her walls. But when she was ready to reveal her secret elixir, he withdrew his hand. She opened her eyes and a mixture of anger, disappointment, and self-punishment was evident.

Amor put some moisturizer on her hand and turned his back. He rubbed his front as she rubbed his back. When her hand went down to his buttocks, he immediately removed it and turned to her, placing her hand above his chest.

Between the mist, their eyes found each other but neither of them said a word.

The moon removed the clouds, revealing the sky above with her forever friends, the twinkling stars which sent smiles to the living world below.

She was now well-drained and dry, also having put on new clothes, waiting for him to appear anytime soon after he let her over the bed safely.

Once again, he left her pleasure in half and now, overwhelmed by guilt, he can't do anything about it. Only pleading for his mercy, which was nowhere to be seen in his eyes.

He appeared at the door holding a portable table with delicious food, the smell arousing her stomach and causing more Pepsina to be produced, her saliva watering her mouth as he approached the edge of the bed. She wanted to crawl like a baby lion, but he stopped her and placed the table in front of her.

There were her favorite quesadillas with cheese, spinach, and green pepper, along with a bowl of pozole combined with fresh garlic bread. (The pozole was without meat.)

She was eager to taste the food because she had deprived herself of any kind of delicious food for more than a week. But as soon as she moved her hurt hand, a shooting pain stopped her and tears fell down right onto his thumb.

He didn't say a word but went to her side and started feeding her like his mother used to do whenever he was ill.

She lost her composure and like a happy kid, devoured the food coming from his hand. She didn't protest once as  handed at half of the pozole bowl and ate half of the quesadillas.

In the end, he gave her almond milk as she doesn't like the taste of cow's milk, making a white mustache appear on her. A smile covered his face as he noticed how cute she was in her childish act, thinking about how their future offspring would resemble little candies one day. She smiled at him as his finger wiped the milk away.

"You don't mind if I finish the rest," he spoke to her, breaking the silent treatment.

"Not at all, but you should order another dish."

"Why so?" he stared at her, and she couldn't formulate a word as his eyes hypnotized her. She was in a trance, her mouth open, and in a moment, she felt his lips devouring hers, his tongue slipping inside, tasting the flavors of almond milk mixed with quesadillas and pozole.

She batted her eyelashes fast when he left her, breathing oxygen and retreating to the other side, now eating with delight, his heart full of her.

"If I can kiss you fully, then I can eat from your spoon and fork too," he locked her lips with his once again and returned to the food.

She watched him eat quickly, as if he was famished.

Then she saw the clock on the wall, almost about to strike midnight any minute now.

"Since morning, you didn't eat anything because of me," her words came out broken and filled with guilt as tears threatened to cover her eyes again.

He heard her voice when he returned with the dessert that he had placed in front of her.

"Churros con chocolate," she beamed.

He nodded as she made space for him to sit next to her.

She grabbed one of them and shoved it into her mouth, the crunchy feeling of the churros filled with chocolate covering her senses and magically transporting her to her childhood.

Amor looked at her, compelled by her childlike innocence. She was not selfish at all, as she put the second churro to his lips.

He accepted her churro and listened to her narrative of her childhood attentively.

"Do you know, Amor, when I was in second grade, I took part in a competition at school to see who could eat the most churros. I ate 50 of them. Afterward, I got a stomachache, but that event didn't break my relationship with them. As soon as I felt better, I started eating them again.

In my parents' home, during the time I lived with them, there was always a plate of freshly made churros in the kitchen.

"These small things are diet killers and I have forbidden myself to enjoy them abundantly for years," she said with a recent sense of regret, her happy face breaking as she hesitated to take another delightful churro.

But he took her hand and made her take another piece, gently pushing it into her mouth.

"Sarai, you should not deprive yourself of the tiny enjoyments of life. What you did this time is beyond my understanding. I have never, and listen well, I would never say anything about your weight. I know it may sound cliché or perhaps heard before, but I swear on my mother's soul that I don't care about your weight. I am waiting for that blissful moment when you will bear our babies and you will gain weight, looking extremely cute." He brushed aside a strand of hair that had covered her eye and lowered his lips to her eyebrow.

His words were a salve to her soul. Amor was different from all the men she had encountered in the vile environment of the fashion world, where they only had three words for models: "You look fat."

She wanted to say something, but his words were enough to fill that moment.

"You know, before I came home, I went to your family to apologize for my behavior at the hospital. I felt betrayed and hurt by your actions, but still, I shouldn't have come at you like that. All I wanted to do was hug and cuddle you, like I am doing now. But the anger of the moment got the best of me and ended up hurting you. I ask for forgiveness from your parents because for you, I have something else in mind," he spoke, keeping her safely in his chest as his legs were parted and she was in between them, devouring the last churro.

"I bet my father was pissed off with you," she giggled and he pinched her nose tip.

"Yeah, they were both understanding when I explained why I was feeling that way. Also, I might have blamed them for your upbringing."

"What?" She exclaimed and turned to face him with anger in her eyes.

He quickly positioned her before removing the empty plate from her lap and placing it in the cupboard.

"They have given you too much freedom at a young age and left you in the hands of the cruel world alone. I know they wanted to fulfill all your desires, but at what cost? They feared losing you, yet they left you alone in the fashion world. Will you leave your daughter alone in the fashion world now?" He asked her and turned her to his side for an answer. 

"No, I would insist she pursue another dream or she will only be under my protective eyes," she replied.

"See what I mean," he remarked.

"It isn't easy just like that, Amor. My parents followed me everywhere and pleaded with me many times to stop this fashion thing, or to just work for them, but I refused. You don't know, Amor, only those who are models in love with the runway know it well. The moment you are called to walk on that magical stage, the heart beats faster and hands go cold; the lights that illuminate turn you blind in a flash, but as soon as you blink once, you see the sea of people waiting for you."

Doesn't matter if they love or hate you. All that matters is that you have their attention, but this isn't the end yet. I know I might sound like I have a diva complex, but it feels like you own the world in those 5 minutes." He studied her expression and was astonished to say the least. He never knew that this was how models saw the runway. From his point of view, meaning the tailor and the designer's view, the runway was a mere display when nowadays everyone could be there. "And don't take my word as true only. Go and ask around other models and they will say the same. For that divine moment is worth starving a few days." "No, it isn't worth it and you will not do it again. This time it was your arm, next time it could be your head, and then what, your death. I lost one woman in my life. I am not going to let that happen again, ever." He hugged her, fearing losing her.

"Amor, I left that world before I married you. I participated this time only for good PR because we are having our collection together."

"Why did you choose to starve yourself that way?"

"It's your fault; you sent me a small dress and I needed to fit in because the fashion show was a week later."

"The dress wasn't yours. I don't know how it happened, but you and Maribel had switched dresses. And when I find out who is behind this, trust me, heads will roll, and as for you, mi estrella, you will have a punishment too. If something isn't in your size, come and complain," he said. But from her eyes, he understood that she had already done that in the past and the outcome was bad.

"I am not your boss, I am your husband and you are my wife, the only one who can shout, scream, yell, and ask me to give a full report at the end of the day. Understood, precious!"

“Yes,” she batted her eyelashes that carried a droplet of tears because his words touched her soul.

“You know how I got it that you love churros?” She shakes her head unknowing how.

“I asked your mom, ‘What sweetness did you give her when she was little that she became so sweet now?’" Of course your mom didn't get my point and said churros. She also gave me the recipe, then I ordered Maria to prepare them for you.

“You naughty.”

She pinched his cheek and rubbed their noses.

In a moment, she found herself under him and his gaze over her changed from playful to something feral, ready to have her as his first meal.

“Tonight, you will feel things that will never repeat themselves. Only tonight will be this punishment. You will never request or do anything to provoke me to do this punishment to you.” 

His raspy voice hit her eardrum, triggering her desires to come alive. She nodded.

The moonlight crossed the window and fell over the flower wide open for his hungry eyes. The anticipation of blooming under these circumstances had made the flower bloom to have a gist of glitter. His fingers dared to touch the petals and immediately they closed up. This moon flower would not be cherished tonight, no. The master had in mind a punishment and that came with a loud thud over the fleshy petals. A whimper of cries came from the owner of the flower moon but she couldn't do anything to protect herself. Lying there waiting for the second, the third, the fourth, and the fifth thud. Countless tears covered the side of the pillow but no words came as she lay there motionless with her heavy breath. Something moist, like balsam, touched her blighted petals, bringing them to life once again were his tears and his lips kissing her petals ever so slowly, ever so delicately as if they would break at any moment now. Her body fell into an abyss of pure pleasure after the tortures she had passed through minutes ago. The gates of forbidden ecstasy were opened for her and she bloomed once again.

Then he slowly closed the flower and put his head over her, intertwining his hand under her roots.

"What will happen when he knows that I was the one that made the change of dresses?"

"He will never know, because now he will be focused on his little wife."

"Ma'am, I don't want to be part of this game anymore. Mrs. Crawford almost lost her life..."

"Only I am Mrs. Crawford here. Say that again and I will make you dig your own grave, you stupid thing!"

"Ma'am, I am sorry," the girl whimpered under the pain that the heel was causing to her hand.