The Man She Betrayed

51. The Art of Cooking

Aaron

After she walked out of my apartment, I let out the groan of exasperation I have been holding out for so long.

Seeing her in front of me and knowing what she went through breaks my heart into tiny little pieces. I just wanted to go to her and hug her, let her cry on my shoulder as much as she wants.

But I can't do that.

Crystal and Dad both were right. In these past years, she had heard over and over again that she was a broken person who needs to get healed. She doesn't need that anymore. She doesn't need sympathy or pity from me. At this moment, she doesn't want me to treat her like a fragile toy otherwise it will led her to believe that I was just taking pity on her.

What she needs is to feel emotions other than pain and guilt. She needs to feel other normal emotions like annoyance, anger, rage, irritation, giddiness and want. Anything other than the hurt and shame she had felt for these six years.

I could see in her eyes. For the first time since her return, I saw anger and the urge to slap someone. For someone who has been in guilt for a long time, this was a progress.

With this thought in mind, I lay down to sleep. No matter how much the distance between us hurts me, I needed to be strong for her. One wrong push and it can lead her to the point of no return.

... 

It was my first day in my own company. Everybody was really happy to see me there, especially Dad. I didn't have to do fret really hard in order to understand the work because I had enough experience. For mentoring me into who I am today, I'll be always thankful to Peter and Amber but what she did was wrong. I'll still be friends with her but I cannot work in that place anymore, after knowing how she fired Clara.

After the whole day of greeting employees and clients, when I returned to the apartment, my eyes fixated on Clara's closed door. A smile made it's way to my face as I figured what I was going to do next.

After taking a bath, I changed into some fresh clothes and made my way to her apartment. After few knocks, she walked out of apartment wearing a tank-top and white pants. She looked nice and fresh. Preventing myself from checking her out, I started saying why I was here.

"I want the recipe of Spaghetti with Meatballs." I told her and she squinted her eyes.

"What?"

"I said I want the recipe of Spaghetti with Meatballs." I repeated again and she rolled her eyes.

"I heard the first time." she responded. Staring at me from head to toe, she asked me to give her my mobile. Once I did so, she searched the recipe on a search engine and gave it back to me.

Fuck.

Pouting at my failed attempt of talking to her, I returned to my kitchen and started making the dish. Almost five minutes have passed when I gave myself a mental boast and once again trudged towards her apartment.

After knocking twice, she opened the door and glared at me.

"What's this thing?" I asked, pointing towards the green stalk like object.

"It's celery. You don't need to add this if you don't have one." she answered and shut the door again.

Instead of going back to my apartment, I waited for some time to pass and knocked once again.

"I don't have meat.... or spaghetti." I pouted again and she let out a deep breath. For a moment, she kept staring at me while I made my best puppy dog face. 

It worked at last when she finally said, "Fine, be back in half an hour. I'll prepare the dinner for you."

"Can I watch you?" I asked, trying my luck.

"What?" she cocked her head to a side and asked.

"I mean I'll probably crave it again. Isn't it better if you can teach me how to cook it?" I asked innocently.

Her face first contorted in worry and then in restlessness. After contemplating for a good five minutes, she said "fine" and let me in.

Her apartment smelled like her, feminine and lavender-y. It was just as big as mine, with an open kitchen, living room, a bedroom and probably a bathroom too. The way she was shifting on her feet showed that my presence made her fidgety. Pulling the hem of her top down, she made her way to the kitchen and I followed her inside.

She pulled her hair on top of her head and tied them in a cute, messy bun. Few loose tendrils were caressing the soft curve of her neck, blooming the desire to tuck them behind her ears in my heart. If we were normal husband and wife, I would have picked her in my arms and took her to the bedroom so that we could cherish each other in a very intimate way.

Her voice broke my imagination and I looked towards her as she told me the name of each ingredient. Leaning against the counter, I observed her silently with a smile on my face. The tank top hugged her torso, showcasing her curves and small waist. The jeans hugged her behind, accentuating the shape of her butt and thighs.

Before I could stare at her any longer, she cleared her thought and I realized she had caught me red-handed. I flashed her a toothy grin and she immediately turned her focus back to the sauce for spaghetti that she was cooking.

"Now it's time to add the herbs and spices. It's a very important step." she said and began adding the spices into the pan.

Nodding, I walked towards her and stopped right behind her, gripping the counter on her both sides and caging her in. Her hands turned shaky as she felt my presence. "What else are we supposed to add?" I made sure my voice was deep and seductive.

"Umm..." she stammered, her hands fidgeting for the obvious reason.

My own heart was beating at a faster speed but it didn't matter. Her reaction to my proximity was the only important thing right now.

"Th.. This much s.. salt, just a p.. pinch and.."

"Clara." I whispered, stepping closer until I felt her back against my front. 

"Hmmm." her voice came out squeaky.

I leaned down until my mouth was right behind her ear. "It's sugar."

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