Page 21 of Falling for My Ex Next Door

“Okay, but I don’t have any tea.” She finally replied, though I could still sense hesitation in her body language.

“That’s not a problem. I have some at home. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” I quickly stood up and rushed out of the house. I came back to her place with a pack of elderberry tea and went straight to the kitchen. I made a mug of tea before heading back to the dining area.

I guess she had been patiently longing to leave the dining table for somewhere else, for by the time I came back to where we had been seated, she was no longer there.

“Clara?” I called out to her, but no response came. With the steaming mug of tea on the tray in my hands, I strolled around the house.

It was a rather big place, too big for only one person to inhabit. I wondered if Clara had ever felt lonely since her arrival.

I called her again, but the house was as quiet as a cemetery. Had she left the house before I returned? Did she run away? These questions raided my mind as I unknowingly passed by an ajar door. A slight show of pink was the one that called me back to the room.

My entry into the room revealed a marvelous collection of nude paintings. The room’s walls were covered with paintings, each with a uniquely vibrant burst of color. The paintings were hung at eye level, depicting nude characters. I perceived the room to be some kind of different world where the human body was indeed more revered than ever.

And she was there, standing with eyes fixated on a peculiar painting, like a breathing tableau. I took the opportunity to appreciate her gorgeous figure.

Her long brown hair cascaded gloriously down her back, and there was a way she gazed upon the sensitive painting. It was a breathtaking act. I became filled with sensual energy when she blinked her long lashes at intervals. I wanted to reach out and touch her, to feel the softness of her skin under my fingertips like I was privileged to in the past. But I knew I couldn’t, so I snapped out of it.

“Clara?” I jolted her.

She clutched her chest, staring at me.

“I’m sorry I startled you, I couldn’t find you at the table.”

“Yes,” was all she said.

“Here,” I stretched out the tray, eliminating any possibility of another awkward moment between us.

“Thank you.” She collected the mug and carefully sipped the tea.

“It’s elderberry tea. It is especially good for keeping a cold out.”

“It tastes excellent.” She nodded.

“This must be your aunt’s escape room,” I noted, looking around.

“Something of that sort.” She shrugged.

I turned to study the painting she had been staring at. From what I could see, it was the painting of the Fall of Man.

I could see the cunning serpent, a character that seemed like some vile presence out of a Renaissance scene, wrapped vivaciously around the big tree, Adam and Eve, both in their innocence, wore dreadful countenances, and a sense of foreboding hung in the air and-

Why was she staring at such a painting anyway?

“You like it?” I asked.

“Hmm.” She nodded.

“I never knew you were a fan of art,” I said, almost nonchalantly.

She looked briefly at me, expressionless, and looked away.

“You couldn’t have thought you’d ever fully know who I was during our short time together.” She curtly said.

I never expected that.

“Well, I at least hoped so,” I defended myself.

“Yeah.” She breathed.

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