Chapter 3 OPHELIA

==OPHELIA==

"Whatever. She's not worth my time anyway," he sneered, his eyes clashing with mine, before darting to Owen's unflinching stare in my direction.

Owen's hand slid into mine, firm, anchoring. "Let's get out of here," he whispered, his voice soft yet laced with a firmness that broached no argument, no hesitations.

We wove through the dining area, slipping past hushed whispers and lingering glances. Outside, the cool night air pressed in, thick with the quiet that only seemed to amplify the tension hanging between us. I glanced over, noticing Owen's jaw set, his gaze distant. I finally broke the silence.

"How...how did you find me here?"

He turned to me then, his voice modulated by a touch of surprise. "I didn't. I came for a meeting with the CEO of the restaurant."

As he opened the car door for me, his hand lingered for a moment, warm and steady against mine. But once he got into the driver's seat, the silence between us could freeze water. It was as if that warmth a moment before had left the chasm between us, and a well of said and unsaid things lay between us.

Owen's fingers clamped onto the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the road, his profile tight. "How could you hurt me like this, Ophelia?" He finally bit out, calm, restrained each word. "How could you even think of going on a date when we're... together?"

My stomach knotted with guilt, pooling thick and heavy. I searched for words, but each attempt slipped away, dissolving into the silence. "I... I'm sorry. I should have told you." My voice barely above a whisper, I continued, "My father... he's determined for me to marry into wealth. It's all he cares about."

A flash of hurt crossed his face before he looked away. "So, you just... go along with his plan? Without thinking how it might hurt me?"

The weight of his question settled heavily upon my shoulders. "I never wanted to hurt you," I whispered, staring hard at him, the shame creeping in. "I didn't hope for you to find out this way."

"You should have been honest with me. I would have comprehended... or at least attempted to."

The words hung between us, thick and unyielding. Right then, my phone buzzed, illuminated my father's name on the screen. Dread pooled in my chest as, not wanting to at all, I answered and steeled myself for the worst.

"Ophelia!" His voice suddenly blew up through the line, sharp with frustration. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You threw away another chance. Another one!"

I turned to Owen, his face darkening as he listened. "Dad, he was more than three hours late," I began, trying to explain, the fire of frustration welling up behind my eyes. "And when he finally showed up, he deliberately insulted me. Humiliated us. You don't seriously expect me to just sit there and take that, do you?"

"Humiliated?" he sneered. "Is that what you're calling it now? You humiliated us, Ophelia! You walked out with another man in his presence. Do you know how hard I worked to arrange this meeting?"

"Dad...he wanted to hit me and-" I tried again, and my voice rose tight with the struggle against helpless anger, but he cut me off sharply.

"No excuses, Ophelia. This was your chance. And you blew it. Again."

The line went dead, and I was staring blankly at the screen as the weight of his disappointment weighed down, pressing like an invisible hand. One lone tear slipped down my cheek before I could stop it, and I swiped it away as fast as it appeared, but the dam was now broken. All of the shame, the frustration, and the exhaustion powered forward, threatening to consume me.

Without saying anything, Owen stopped the car suddenly, making the silence around us seem even louder. He extended his arms, stable, pulling me towards him. I leaned on him, tears flowing as I held onto him tightly, allowing the emotions inside to finally come out.

"Honey," he whispered, his lips brushing against my ear. "It's okay. You don't have to cry. I'm here."

Briefly, the outside world disappeared, leaving only the sound of my rough breathing and his comforting embrace. Gradually, as though coming out of a spell, my crying lessened. He moved back a little, his thumb wiping the last of my tears, his eyes gentle and kind. Then, my stomach rumbled softly with hunger.

"Come on," he said softly, tugging at a smile from the corner of his mouth. "Come and let me get you something to eat."

We drove in silence, but this time, it wasn't the cold silence of hurt or anger. It was comforting, like some tacit understanding that needed no words. Eventually, he pulled over in front of an upscale restaurant, its gleaming window panes warm into the deserted street, sending golden ripples across the sidewalk.

Inside, it was cosy: the soft glow of candles cast warmth over the tables. I looked down at the menu, and my eyes widened at the prices; before I could say a word, Owen's hand covered mine.

"Don't," he whispered, the reassuring smile smoothing tension from his face. "Tonight, let's just...forget everything else. Just you and me."

We ordered, and with each dish arriving as a delicate masterpiece, all in colour and aroma, I let the food and Owen's presence soothe me, each bite easing off the weight on my shoulders, the comfort deep inside. For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to just breathe.

As the meal drew to a close, Owen set his glass down, his eyes catching and holding mine across the table. There was something there-an intensity, something unspoken.

"There's something I really want to say, Ophelia." His voice was soft, even, but underlying it was an emotional heft that quickened my pulse.

"What is that?" I asked, trying to sound composed, though my heart raced.

He hesitated, his eyes darting down, before returning to mine. "I know you're torn between what your father wants and... what we have. I just need you to know that I'm here because I want you."

The momentary flash of vulnerability in those eyes took my breath away, quite literally, as air seemed to leave my lungs for a second.

"Owen," I whispered, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted to put you in this position. It's just... my father's control over my life has been suffocating. But believe me, I don't want to lose you too."

He nodded, his thumb stroking over my knuckles.

"Babe, another thing I want to tell you is that I am travelling soon," he murmured.

"Travelling?"