Chapter 8: Eleanor

Loathing and anger coursed through her veins like venom, fueling her swift departure down the footpath. Peter's calls only made her quicken her pace, as if trying to outrun the pain and betrayal. But he caught up, grasping her arm to turn her around, his eyes pleading for a chance to explain.

"Elly, please hear me out," he begged, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to her turbulent emotions. If it were anyone else, she'd have expected anger, defensiveness, or aggression. But Peter's gentle nature, the same trait that had drawn her to him, now made her want to scream.

"El, I made a mistake," he confessed, his voice laced with remorse. But Eleanor's anger wouldn't be quenched so easily.

"A mistake?" she repeated, her voice dripping with venom. "No, that wasn't a mistake. A mistake is using sugar instead of salt, or butt-dialing someone. Heck! Falling down the stairs could also be a mistake. But sleeping with my sister, Peter, is not a mistake. It's a deliberate, disgusting act you hoped I wouldn't find out about. You intentionally did it, knowing it would hurt me."

Peter's face contorted in anguish, Eleanor's words cut deep, refusing to let him off the hook. "I must've been out of my mind, El. I swear I didn't mean to hurt you," he pleaded, but Eleanor's laughter was cold, mirthless.

"What part of sleeping with my sister wouldn't hurt me? You know what? Don't answer that. I'm done, Peter. I want nothing more to do with you. You can run back to Sam; I don't care."

Peter's eyes welled up with tears, his voice cracking. "I don't love Sam, I love you, El. It's always been you." He reminisced about their first meeting back in college, how she had captured his heart with her beauty, intelligence, and wit.

Eleanor's tears returned, her voice cracking. "Then why? If you loved me as much as you claim, why did you cheat on me? Why with her?" She pointed toward the mansion, her anger and hurt boiling over, demanding answers he couldn't provide.

Peter had been asking himself the same question repeatedly, unable to comprehend his own actions. He felt no physical attraction to Samantha; Eleanor was far more beautiful and had captivated him from the start. So why had he done it? Why had he hurt the one person he loved, the one person who had made him feel seen and understood?

As he gazed into Eleanor's green eyes, her tears shattered his heart. He never thought he'd make her cry, never imagined he'd hurt her this way. The pain and betrayal etched on her face was a reflection of his own guilt and shame. "Why?" she asked again, her voice cracking, barely above a whisper.

Peter's eyes lowered to the ground, unable to meet her gaze. "I don't know," he whispered dejectedly, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Eleanor stepped closer, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'll tell you why. You're a selfish, discontent, conceited jerk who thinks I'm not enough for him." Peter paled, taken aback by her words, feeling the weight of his mistakes crushing him.

"You're enough, Eleanor. You're all I need," he protested, trying to grasp her hand, but she pulled away, as if his touch burned her.

"No, I'm not enough, and that's fine. You and Sam can do whatever you want because, frankly, I'm done caring." Eleanor's voice was laced with a mix of sadness and anger, her words cutting deep into Peter's soul.

With one final look of disdain, Eleanor stormed off to her car, leaving Peter frozen in despair. Before entering, she yelled back at him, "Oh, and Peter, I hope you have a miserable life!" Her words hung in the air, a haunting prophecy that seemed to seal his fate.

As Eleanor drove away, she felt a sense of liberation wash over her. Maybe she had been too harsh, but Peter had definitely deserved her wrath. The nerve of the man, thinking a simple apology could fix everything.

Her phone buzzed incessantly with texts from her relatives, some concerned about her well-being, others eager for the juicy details. She ignored them, focusing on the road ahead.

Eventually, she pulled over at a park near her place and walked to a bench, seeking solace in the night air. The stars shone brightly above, and she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth, pulling her legs up onto the bench.

As she replayed the events of the evening, she realized her face was wet with tears. She hadn't even known she was crying. Silent sobs wracked her shoulders, each new wave of tears intensifying her pain.

Despite everything, she still loved Peter. How could she not? She had loved him for five years, and now it all seemed like a waste. Her heart broke as memories of their time together flooded her mind. She had envisioned a future with him - marriage, kids, happiness. What a fantasy.

In this moment, the reality of her situation hit her like a ton of bricks. She wept for the loss of their relationship, for the shattered dreams, and for the pain Peter had caused her. The stars above seemed to twinkle in mockery, a reminder of the happiness she would never have with him.

Luke Ashton on his way back from a drive, noticed the woman on the park bench, her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs. He debated approaching her, wondering if she wanted to be alone, but his concern for her well-being won out. As he drew closer, the woman - Eleanor - looked up, hastily wiping away tears with the back of her hand.

"Mr. Ashton," she said, surprised, her voice trembling.

Luke's concern was evident on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle, but Eleanor avoided eye contact, not responding.

He sat down beside her, attempting to change the subject. "You look nice," he said, trying to sound casual, but Eleanor's response was hesitant. "Uh, thanks?"

"So, I take it your date didn't quite go as planned?" Luke asked, attempting to be subtle in his inquiry, but his curiosity got the better of him.

Eleanor raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement on her face. "What made you think I was on a date?" she asked, her tone playful.

Luke's face colored slightly as he realized his assumption. "Well, you look pretty tonight...I don't know, like someone on a date," he stammered, trying to recover.

Eleanor's laughter was gentle, but teasing. "And what exactly does someone on a date look like?" she pressed, enjoying the banter.

Luke held up his hands in mock surrender. "I guess I just made an assumption. My mistake."

Eleanor's smile softened, and she looked away, her gaze drifting into the night. "No, it wasn't a date," she said quietly. "Just a...disappointment."

Silence followed. Eleanor's eyes narrowed, her brows furrowing in mock offense. "What did you mean I look pretty tonight? Do you mean on other days I'm ugly?" she asked, a frown marring her features, her voice laced with playful teasing.

Luke stammered, his face growing hot. "Of course not...not at all," he protested, trying to backtrack.

Eleanor's gasp was exaggerated, her voice dripping with drama. "You mean I was never pretty till now?" she continued, teasing him further, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Luke shot up, panicked, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Miss Eleanor, you've misread my words, you've always been pretty! I only meant that you looked like someone on a date. If we were out on a date, this is how I'd imagine you to look like," he blubbered, his face coloring instantly as he realized what he'd said.

Eleanor's blush was fleeting, quickly replaced by a mischievous grin. "Mr. Ashton," she gasped dramatically, "have you been fantasizing about me?" she joked, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Luke's response was immediate, his face a picture of shock. "No, not at all! I do not think of you that way," he exclaimed, his voice firm, but his eyes betraying a hint of panic.

Eleanor's voice dropped, her tone playful, but teasing. "So, you mean I'm not desirable?" she said, her eyes downcast, her lips pouting.

Luke groaned, realizing the hole he was digging for himself. "I don't mean that either, I-" he began, but was cut off by the sound of Eleanor's laughter.

She couldn't help but burst into giggles, the helpless look on Luke's face was hilarious. He stared at her, confused, realization gradually setting in. "You were teasing me," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Eleanor nodded, still laughing. "Guilty as charged," she admitted, her eyes shining with mirth.

Luke's smile grew, his gaze locked on hers. "Well, I'm glad I was able to make you smile," he said, his voice warm, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Their eyes met, and the air was charged with an electric connection, as if the universe had paused to acknowledge the spark between them. Eleanor's laughter faded into a soft smile, her eyes locked on Luke's, the moment suspended in time.

The night breeze whispered through the trees, causing Eleanor to shiver, breaking the spell. She cleared her throat, standing up, her movements graceful. "It's quite late," she stated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Luke stood too, his hand slipping into his pocket, his eyes never leaving hers. "And cold too," Eleanor added, a smile playing on her lips.

"Thanks for tonight, for making me smile," she said, her voice sincere, her gratitude genuine. Luke's smile mirrored hers, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice low and gentle.

As they walked towards her car, Luke accompanying her, Eleanor turned to him, her voice barely above a whisper. "Goodnight, Mr. Ashton," 

Luke's response was immediate, his smile warm. "Same to you, Miss Eleanor," he replied, his eyes sparkling with affection.

Eleanor's correction was soft, her voice barely audible. "Eleanor," she whispered, her eyes downcast, her cheeks flushing. "You can call me Eleanor."

The moment hung suspended, the air thick with unspoken emotions, as Luke's gaze lingered on hers, his heart skipping a beat.

A look of shock crossed Luke's features, his eyes widening in surprise, before a warm smile spread across his face. "And you can call me Luke," he said, his voice low and gentle, "Mr. Ashton makes me feel old," he joked, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Eleanor's giggle was music to his ears, a sweet, melodious sound that made his heart skip a beat. She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mirth, before turning to leave.

Without another word, she drove off into the night, leaving Luke standing alone, his eyes fixed on the fading taillights of her car. Tonight, something was different, a subtle shift in the air, a spark of connection that neither of them could ignore.

As Luke turned to walk back to his own car, he couldn't shake off the feeling that their chance encounter had been more than just a coincidence. The way Eleanor's eyes had sparkled, the way her smile had lit up the night, it all lingered in his mind, refusing to be forgotten.

Tonight, something was different, and both of them felt it, a spark of connection that would linger long after the night was over.