Not Your Typical Love Story

Hart attempted to focus on the road, ignoring the swelling feeling in his pants. She was arousing him just by being herself and he couldn’t hold back. Shifting the gear in place, he raged all the way to his secret nest, a place even his father didn’t know of.The house was a secret location that only he and Milla knew. Following her death three years ago, he had fallen into deep misery. Tonight had been her death anniversary, and he had visited her grave that afternoon. One year ago on the same night, he had decided that was time that he let her go. But the house would always remain, to preserve the sweetest memories they had spent together. To his surprise, he had chanced upon a person so similar to her.Myra alighted cautiously, taking a step at a time as she followed Hart into the vacant house,

Myra was astounded by the eccentric old lady who was standing before them with a basket of fruits.“Bibik Ina,” Hart pronounced, approaching the elderly woman slowly. Myra observed the guilt written over his face.Right, the name the old lady had called was Milla, not Myra… she vaguely remembered that Hart had even called her Milla unconsciously.“You have aged,” Hart said in a foreign language. He sounded more solemn than ever, his eyes looking downcast. Myra assumed this old lady was someone he knew, watching them slowly while maintaining her distance. The old woman was still staring at her as they spoke.After a few exchanges of sentences, Ina gradually appeared more agitated. Myra noticed how Hart attempted to console her, offering her

Her heart fluttered as their eyes met and locked in on each other. It had reminded her so much of all those dramas she had watched on TV, yet it was so distinct when it happened to her in actuality.“Are you okay, Myra? Your face is very red.”She hurriedly brushed the sand from her face. “I’m fine, really. I’m just a little hot.”“Ah. The tropical weather here may be a bit hot for you.” He assisted her to sit up, taking extreme care of her. “I reckon the weather in your country is tolerable? Since there are, after all, four seasons.”She stood slowly, shaking the sand off her sundress. “And I assume you haven’t seen actual snow?”He looked at her s

[Back at Hart’s hideout]“Morning,” Myra yawned, rubbing her face against what turned out to be Hart’s chest. Daylight was streaming through the pale curtains. She was exactly where she wanted to be.If only, she didn’t have to wake up from the dream. Every moment with Hart had been so delightful and not hurtful. “Slept well last night?” Hart ran his hair through her hair, which was now probably a mess from their adventure last night. Her forehead throbbed with pain, reminding her of how much she had drunk last night.They had both called each other’s name last night. He had even taken her in

Myra led Hart, still hand in hand, into the suite where their friends awaited. It was not a big suite, with a master room, two shared bathrooms and a kitchen which the rich girls barely used and a smaller room where Lesley slept. Hart put down his duffel bag carefully, observing the room as thoroughly as he could. This would work for a temporary hideout, but he would have to go forward with his plan.“You’ll be sharing with Lesley,” she said, hoping he would not be disappointed that they would not be sharing a bad. Sierra smiled with a hand over her mouth, anticipating what her sister shared with the divine man that she had just brought back to the hotel. Between them, they had the habit of calling the hotel ‘home’, as they did on several occasions. The home was where Myra was with Sierra, although now, it was where she hid with Hart. Hart had presented her with such a special