DARKSIDE

19 | Aftermath

A ringing doorbell at seven in the morning was what pulled Nova out of her train of thoughts as she made pancakes on a gloomy Saturday. It seemed like it could rain any time now since it hadn't yet, even though the sky had been showing the signs of a storm coming since yesterday.

It had been too late last night, for Derek and her to go back to their penthouse in London; the warning wheather helped them with the decision as well. Neither of them saw it to be a problem either since they still were the owners of their respective houses here.

Derek had gone to his house abruptly after a while had gone by them just standing there, staring at the star-less, dark, night sky. And Nova hadn't stopped him because she felt like he should have a bit of alone time - to be away from the very place that had been haunting him all these years.

After turning the gas stove off, she slid a robe on, over the top and shorts she had been wearing, and got out of the kitchen in her fluffy and cute flip-flops. What could she say, she adored them a bit too much.

Without peeping through the peephole, she opened the front door and before she could even see the person - who was Derek, she saw those crystal blues of his - barged right in, handing her something in the process. He didn't say anything, just walked in and stopped in the living room, looking kind of angry.

Closing the door behind her, she looked down at her hands. Newspaper. He gave her a newspaper?

Before she could ask what all of this was, her eyes caught on to a headline.

'LEAVING THE PARTY EARLY, WATSON'S ANNOUNCEMENTS'

Of course it was all over the news that at the CEOs retiring party his son left early, she thought as she made her way back to her kitchen, leaving Derek standing in the living room to follow her to the small dining table situated in her kitchen. It was a smart move since she lived alone and the dining table had four chairs which came in handy when her parents visited her, or when she forced Alesso and Gilliam to have breakfast with her. It was always nice to have a breakfast companion, or in most of her cases, two.

Putting the paper at the dining table after having looked at the subheading that followed the headline, she went back to her pancakes and turned the stove on.

It wasn't displayed in a manner that could be interpreted in a wrong way - if she could say so herself, that is. At least not in a way that would be troublesome for the reputation of the company or its owners because apparently, 'Junior Watson Was Not To Be Blamed Since His Missus Looked Every Bit Beautiful And Definitely Irresistible'.

The 'Junior Watson's Missus', however, could not decide if that was something she should not be worried about. Sure it was a good thing that their reputation was still intact, but she wasn't very sure about this kind of thing. And that only made it worse because Derek didn't look very pleased to see that as a headline in the papers, either. All Nova was focusing on was the fact that at least it wasn't in the worst way possible.

The news resided in the very top of the paper, just below where the name of the paper was, with a picture of them on the side in which they were holding hands as they looked into each other's eyes. Nova would be honest, the picture did look very lovely. No wonder people were gushing about it. She portrayed a very believable to-be-wife, in her opinion.

She knew, of course, that the business world was important to the tabloids, but she had been underestimating just how much. She always thought that it wouldn't be as important as the political world or the entertainment industry. Actors and actresses, Political people - The Prime Minister, or any of the ministers, really, were there to help cover most of the interesting information. But as it would seem upon seeing the area in which their news was printed in - in black coloured font on a baby pink background along with their picture, below which was the page number where the whole news was to be found, Nova must reconsider her thoughts. And that was what Nova tried to tell Derek as he stood there at the dining table's side, the newspaper in one hand - which he must have picked from the table - eyes roaming at the headline, still on the front page and not flipping the papers to see the full news.