THE BUFFLING QUESTIONS

"We can have coffee as we wait for your departure time," Damian offers upon reaching the airport.


I breathe in and out a huge amount of air. I haven't had peace since I woke up, and if it weren't for that sex we had last night, I am certain that I wouldn't have slept even for a minute throughout the whole night. It was a nice remedy. It was so different, from my viewpoint. It was a slow-burn, sweet romance with a lot of decent chats in between. He could hang back at some notch to just ask if I am okay. Or to reassure me that everything will be fine and that he is with me all the way through. To remind me of how strong I am and how much faith he has in me. The kisses were slower than ever, sweeter, and deeper.

I must confess that I had no inkling that our romantic moment would be that sweet given the situation. I had not anticipated that angle when I begged for it. I just wanted a distraction to pass the time. But he made it all magical, like he understood perfectly what I needed even without myself knowing what I wanted. It was like he bore his all into me last night—his love, trust, honesty, and most of all, understanding. Everything that bonders love and care about was relinquished to that moment last night. It took a long, and even if he continued making love to me the whole night, I wouldn't have demurred or gotten exhausted.

I felt the actual portrayal of being on cloud nine for yet another time. It was epic, terrific, and mind-clogging. It was undoubtedly the most momentous night of all the nights we have had together. Then again, he has the magic of making every intimacy better and sweeter than the previous. I know that after last night, there will still be a much better moment.


"No, love. I am not in the mood for coffee." I respond to his question, my voice laced with weariness and a hint of frustration. The weight of impending separation from my father bears heavily on my mind, clouding my desire for any sort of distraction.

"You don't even want some fresh air?" he asks, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow and the gentle tone of his voice.


"No," I reply, shaking my head, my gaze fixed on the departure board flashing the time. "I don't feel like stepping out. I just want to get on that plane and go see my father." My words are clipped, the urgency in my tone betraying my impatience with the minutes ticking away.

It is ticking at six o'clock. We still have some freaking fifteen minutes until my departure time, each second stretching out agonizingly as I long to be airborne, hurtling towards the one person who can provide solace in this tumultuous time.

"Can I ask you something?" he inquires, his voice hesitant, as if sensing the gravity of my mood and treading carefully around it.

Ahem!

"Sure." I respond, giving him my whole notoriety, entailing even my eyes.

I still don't believe I am leaving him behind. If only I could, I would carry him with me everywhere I go. Bitches better stay away from him, even now that I will not be around him.

"Pardon me for fussing, but you are going back home, love. What if your rattled issue with your betrothed is raised again? What if what you ran away from is still waiting for you back there?"

As I observe the distress and fears etched across his features, I realize that he is not the only one grappling with these thoughts. Since the moment I stepped into his car from the house until now, as we sit in tense silence, I have been plagued by the same doubts and fears.

Indisputably, that is one of the reasons why I was dead mute the whole ride because I thought about this whole probability last night. Each passing mile only served to amplify the turmoil within me, leaving me feeling utterly lost and uncertain about what the future holds.

I reach out and gently place my hand on his, offering a silent reassurance that we are in this together, no matter how daunting the journey ahead may seem. We may not have all the answers, but I think this is the point where we bet everything on our love and the trust we have in each other. I mean, I cannot soothe him with the lie that the issue is completely dead and buried. Neither can I promise boldly that I can run away again and leave my father on his sick bed. This is where fate comes in, but no matter what it brings, nobody can ever have my heart except him.

The Riccafortes are as adamant as my father, I know, and they go far back. Birds of the same feather flock together, they say. That is why they were able to easily enter into an agreement. But I broke it. I don't know what they consented to when I revolted against it, but it baffles me that I haven't heard something about the split of the company or the cessation of their coalition. I thought that would be the first thing in the news when I refused to seal their deal.

But nothing of the sort happened, or at least nothing of the sort that I have heard of. Could they have agreed to continue the alliance even after we breached the contract? Or are they still waiting for my return so that they can impel me into their absurdities? Is that moronic, imbecile son of Riccaforte still waiting for me?

It is backbreaking to tell which is which, and I don't want to conclude anything, but if at all they are dreaming of coercing me into that marriage, they better think and think again. I can't imagine a fucking life without Damian. On a lighter note, maybe it is high time I face that moron, Riccaforte junior, and settle the scores with him face-to-face and peacefully for everyone's sake.