She was not alone, in fact she had never been alone. The moment she found support from the wall was the moment that Philip entered the corridor. Her eyes started at his sleek black shoes, vicious and hurt. She didnāt want to look directly in his face, though his actions were petty compared to Marcusā she could not channel her angry energy elsewhere.
Vivian didnāt want to quarrel with him, yet she didnāt want to be comforted by him. She didnāt want to give in, she didnāt want to be taken care of, but she wanted to desperately to be loved. Her blue orbs remained pointed toward the ground, knowing that if she looked into his eyes, the ones she had been enchanted by, she would cry. Her hands were rubbing together in a nervous manner as she felt Philip inch toward her. Soon, as his lovely voice has suggested, he was trying to comfort her.
A small pucker of her lips disappeared as she looked up at him, she mustnāt get mad at him. Her anger would only make things worse. He was upset with her, she knew that, but now he was reaching out her. And she needed to take his hand this time, as much as she wanted to deny the feelings.
Calm. Instead of getting boiled up, his touch was actually cooling her down. It was unlike anyone else, he had the remarkable ability of civilizing dear Vivianās temper. She didnāt not smile, nor did she frown when she made eye contact. Vivian felt very little at all, it was like a hollowing in her stomach and it only grew with time. A loneliness engulfed her; yes, she had physical affection but she was never sure. Vivian was never sure who she belonged to, Marcus or Philip.
They say that if who fall in love twice, choose the second. But had she really fallen in love with Marcus. Or had she just fallen in love with the idea of him? Fallen in love with his power, his desire, and the authority that he gave her? Vivian no longer knew how to answer these questions. Maybe it didnāt even matter.
A pale hand, shaking with anxiety, slid up to Philipās. She then closed the gap between them in an embrace, wrapping herself within him. Words flowed out of her like a gust of wind, and she couldnāt stop them. āPlease, donāt leave me.ā she whispered, gently pressing her face into the crook of his neck. In that instance she wasnāt sure what she really meant, but in time she would realize.