Whispers of Doubt

"I hesitated for a moment, my mind reeling from the unexpected turn of events. 'I'll stay with Asher,' I finally uttered, the words escaping before I could fully grasp their significance. But as soon as they left my lips, doubt gnawed at my resolve. To my surprise, Asher's parents beamed with approval at my decision. Yet, before I could fully process their reaction, a blush crept across my cheeks as I found myself blurting out an unexpected request. "Can... can Asher and I get engaged?" I stammered, the words tinted with embarrassment. To my astonishment, his parents revealed Asher's plans to propose that very evening, a revelation that sent my heart racing. As I stepped out of the room, my eyes sought out Asher, who sat by the window, his expression a mix of vulnerability and anticipation. Without a second thought, I enveloped him in a tight embrace, my laughter masking the turmoil within. But beneath the façade of mirth, I couldn't ignore the weight of uncertainty that hung between us. 'What if my answer was a yes?' I whispered, the question lingering in the air, heavy with unspoken desire. As Asher's parents bid their farewells, their gestures of goodwill only served to heighten the intensity of the moment. With a newfound determination, I faced Asher, my voice trembling as I revealed my decision to live with him. The joy that illuminated his features at my declaration was tempered by a shadow of doubt, a fear that I couldn't bear to acknowledge. 'My answer is forever a yes, Asher,' I whispered, my words a silent promise of unwavering devotion. Yet, even as we embarked on this new chapter together, the specter of doubt lingered, casting a shadow over our uncertain future. But for now, in the warmth of Asher's embrace, I found solace, a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead." ""Shall we retrieve my paintings?" I suggested, to which Asher, blushing, replied, "Of course, my lady." "Let's walk there," I decided, noting our still-damp clothes with a laugh. As we made our way, the maid diligently followed, cleaning up the drips left in our wake. Upon reaching the closet, I enlisted Asher's help in choosing an outfit. I opted for a red short dress adorned with puffed sleeves and a heart-shaped front design. Meanwhile, Asher settled on black cargo jeans paired with a loose white t-shirt. With separate changing rooms at our disposal, we proceeded to prepare for our outing. As I slipped into the dress, I marveled at how perfectly it fit, a testament to the meticulous attention to detail they had paid to my wardrobe. Noticing the lace-up back, I called Asher into the room, his cheeks flushing at the sight. "Could you help me with this corset?" I asked, my own cheeks warming with embarrassment. Without a word, he nodded, deftly tying the laces as I held my hair out of the way. As he cinched the corset tighter at my request, I caught his gaze in the mirror, both of us unable to suppress our blushes. Once dressed, the question of footwear arose. "Just wear black heels," Asher suggested before hastily retreating to avoid further embarrassment. Following his advice, I slipped into a pair of black nine-inch heels, though even with the added height, I remained significantly shorter than Asher. Despite our shared awkwardness, we exchanged smiles before heading to the ground floor. Exiting the building incognito, Asher donned a black cap and mask to avoid drawing attention, a precaution necessary given his fame. Walking in silence, we made our way to Anne's club. Ascending to the top floor, our arrival didn't go unnoticed, particularly by a group of girls who immediately flocked to Asher, eager to dance with him. Though I couldn't bear to see their hands on him, I couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy. "STOP TOUCHING MY MAN!" I found myself exclaiming, slapping away their hands before retreating with Asher to the upper level. Amidst the commotion, a familiar figure emerged, grabbing me by the waist and whispering in my ear, a chilling reminder of the previous night's events. With Asher by my side, I braced myself for whatever Detstvo had in store, uncertain of the implications his presence held for our evening." "HANDS OFF!" I yelled, my voice sharp with indignation. Asher's sudden jealousy flared as he growled at Detstvo, the unwanted intruder. Ignoring the tension, I swiftly redirected our focus. "Asher, help me pack," I commanded, grasping my newly finished painting. With Asher's assistance, we stacked the paintings, preparing to depart. Detstvo's curiosity persisted, questioning my departure. "Are you leaving?" he inquired, concern lacing his tone. "Yes, I am," I confirmed, gathering my brushes in preparation. Sensing his reluctance to let me go, Detstvo voiced his anguish, his words dripping with desperation. Anxious to avoid further confrontation, I distanced myself from Detstvo, redirecting his attention to the party Asher had invited him to. With a reluctant farewell, I turned away, eager to escape the suffocating tension. As Asher and I descended the stairs, the weight of scrutiny bore down on us from the onlookers. Uncomfortable beneath their gaze, I hurried forward, eager to escape their prying eyes. Upon our return, Asher arranged for our privacy, leading us to the eighth floor and our secret room. As he busied himself with organizing the space, I unrolled a sketch, a silent confession of feelings I could never reveal. With bated breath, I awaited Asher's reaction, the truth hidden beneath layers of secrecy and unspoken desire. 

"We should start with this one," Asher suggested, pointing to the rolled-up sketch in my hand. I hesitated. "No, not this one," I replied softly. "Why? It's easier," he insisted, reaching for it. "If you don't love me, then leave it," I challenged, clutching the sketch tighter. "I swear on my life, you should show me what it is," Asher urged gently. Reluctantly, I released my grip, allowing him to unfurl the sketch. As his eyes fell upon it, recognition flashed across his face. "This was from four years ago," he remarked, a hint of nostalgia in his voice. "Yeah... I drew you on the metro," I admitted, feeling a rush of embarrassment. "Thank you," he murmured, his smile warming my heart. Suddenly, Asher had a confession of his own. He retreated a few steps, retrieving a long rolled sheet from behind a shelf. Handing it to me, he urged, "Open it up." I complied, revealing a sketch from our high school days. Memories flooded back as I recalled the moment Asher had captured on camera, immortalized in his sketch. "It's beautiful," I breathed, touched by the sentiment. The sketches held a significance that warranted protection, and we shared a laugh as we set them aside. But a sense of unease settled over me as I felt an unseen presence watching us. "What's wrong?" Asher inquired, sensing my unease. "I feel... I feel like I'm being watched," I confessed, a shiver running down my spine. As if on cue, my phone rang, breaking the tense atmosphere. It was Anne, eager to catch up and unaware of the tension brewing in our sanctuary.