Chapter 24
“Come to my place,” Christopher said.
Cynthia paused briefly before lowering her gaze and replying humbly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t want to cause another fight between you and Mel.”
“She has no right to interfere. It’s my house. I decide who stays,” he said coldly.
Her face was still streaked with tears. Hesitating only a moment, she reluctantly allowed Christopher to take her back to his apartment complex.
As they stepped into the elevator, Cynthia trailed closely behind him. She discreetly rubbed away the foundation on her neck, revealing the faint kiss mark.
When the apartment door opened, she expected to see Melody, but the apartment was empty and eerily quiet. Looking around the living room, Cynthia spoke softly, “Is Mel asleep? We shouldn’t wake her.”
“She’s not home. There’s no need to whisper,” he replied, removing his jacket.
“Where is she?” she asked.
“Hospital. She fractured her tailbone,” he explained.
“Which hospital? Once my foot heals, I’ll visit her,” she said with apparent concern.
“No need. Her presence only brings trouble,” Christopher said, his expression darkening as he recalled the earlier incident. “Besides, it’s better she’s not here. No way of hurting you anymore.”
He walked to the small guest room, only to find it was being used for storage. Turning back, he said, “You’ll sleep in Melody’s room tonight.” Cynthia leaned easily against the wall and said, “I can sleep on the couch. Mel doesn’t like people touching her things.”
“It’s not right to let a guest sleep on the couch,” Christopher disagreed.
Hearing the word “guest,” Cynthia clenched her fists.
“It’s just one night. She won’t say anything,” Christopher added as he helped her into the guest room.
He turned on the light and guided her to the bed. The room carried a faint, clean fragrance—Melody’s scent.
“Get some rest. You’ve been through a lot tonight,” Christopher said reassuringly before leaving and closing the door.
Once the door closed, Cynthia narrowed her eyes before standing abruptly. She had assumed he would take her to the master bedroom, yet he had her stay here. Was he afraid of crossing a line in his own home? Scanning the sparse furnishings, she walked to the wardrobe. Her gait was smooth and steady, showing no sign of a sprained ankle. Opening the wardrobe doors, she found only a few cheap, shabby items of clothing, the fabric resembling rags.
Feeling even more satisfied, she opened the drawers, rummaging through them. Finding nothing of interest, she took a selfie lying on the bed and sent it to someone.
Meanwhile, Melody had just put away her drawing tablet when her phone buzzed. Checking it, she immediately clenched her fists, anger bubbling up. Why couldn’t Christopher just let Cynthia sleep in the master bedroom? Why her room? Was that really necessary?
Her finger hovered over the call button for Christopher’s number, but after three seconds, reason overcame impulse, and she exited the screen. It was just a room. Cynthia wanted to sleep there, so be it. In a little over a month, Melody would be moving out anyway.
Mentally reviewing what remained in her room, she reassured herself that her most valuable item—her computer—had already been sent to Sheldon. There wasn’t much else. But then, a sudden thought struck her. There was one thing left—her high school diary. That diary contained her “dark history”—the musings of a lovesick young lady documenting her every fleeting crush on Christopher.