Rebecca pressed a hand to her chest, expecting the old pain, or at least a wave of nausea. But even that was absent.
The people on the other end of the phone were like utter strangers speaking in a foreign language. After leaving that suffocating environment and Vance, she felt like a butterfly finally breaking free of its cocoon -light, unburdened, and truly free.
“Rebecca, come join us! We’re starting to eat,” Desmond called from outside.
“Coming!” she responded cheerfully.
“Rebecca?” Desmond’s voice echoed again.
Although the door stood open, he knocked politely. “Rebecca, are you alright in there? We’re holding off for you!”
“All good. I’m coming right out!” Rebecca emerged with her phone, intending to terminate the video, but Vance’s sullen face suddenly filled the screen.
Unbothered, Rebecca ended the call just as he began to shout out. Regardless of how persistently he tried to reconnect, she steadfastly ignored him.
A meal’s enjoyment hinged on the vibe.
These modest, budget–friendly choices seldom appeared on a formal dining table. Yet, when they were shared among kindred spirits with passion, the atmosphere alone transformed the gathering into something exhilarating.
To Rebecca, this impromptu late–night meal ranked among the most gratifying “feasts” she had savored in the past five years. It was more flavorful than any extravagant dinner she had shared with Vance at upscale venues.
The boisterous session concluded around midnight. No matter how engaging the company was, it was time to disperse.
When Rebecca returned to her room, Lauren was ready for bed, smelling the lingering aroma clinging to Rebecca’s clothes.
VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: He Didn’t Kidnap Me. Not Exactly