Once, my paranoid love

The anticipation gnawed at me as I eagerly checked my email.

“Paulina,” I spoke, my voice carrying a mixture of excitement and curiosity. I needed to know how she felt about the necklace, the silent messenger of our intertwined past.

Derek picked up the call after a moment, and I wasted no time in sharing my thoughts.

“She was wearing my necklace,” I disclosed, my words hanging in the air with a certain weight. There was a pause, and then Derek responded.

“Yes,” he confirmed.

“I’m hoping she likes it,” I admitted, my concern for Paulina’s feelings surfacing.

Derek’s voice reassured me.

“Yes, she liked it,” he said, providing a sense of relief. It was a small comfort to know that the gift had been well received.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I inquired about Elena.

“And Elena, did she know?” I asked.

“No, she wasn’t aware of it,” Derek replied, emphasizing the discreet nature of the gesture.

“How’s she doing?” I asked.

“She’s fantastic,” Derek responded, his tone carrying a sense of contentment.

My curiosity about Elena led to a question that lingered in the air.

“What happened to her?” I inquired, seeking to understand the details of her life.

“No, you can’t see her,” Derek’s response was swift, a clear boundary set.

“She is just mine.”

A tinge of frustration crept into my voice as I sighed, “Don’t think too highly of yourself.” Our exchange took a confrontational turn as Derek asserted his claim.

“Don’t you think about it, bastard,” Derek warned, the tension palpable in his words.

“Relax, I’m not. But in the next life, I’m not letting you touch her,” I asserted, a vow made in the shadows of our complex history.

“Daddy,” a voice interrupted, cutting through the tension with an unexpected innocence. Paulina’s drowsy tone called out to Derek.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Derek’s concerned voice filled the air, a testament to his caring nature. I could sense the warmth and reassurance in his tone.

“I can’t sleep,” Paulina’s small voice, tinged with innocence, carried through the phone. It was a call for comfort and solace, a plea that tugged at my heart.

“Honey, please come here,” Derek’s soothing words unfolded, revealing a father’s instinct to ease his daughter’s worries.

“Daddy is going to tell you a story,” he promised, a gesture of love to lull her back to sleep.

But in that moment, a sudden urgency overcame me.

“I will ca…”

“Can I speak with her?” I interjected, my desire to connect with Paulina overwhelming. Derek, understanding the unspoken request, turned his gaze toward Paulina.

“Someone wants to talk to you, sweetie,” Derek explained, seamlessly transitioning to the shift in plans.

Paulina’s response was a gentle “Hello,” her voice carrying the innocence of a child who had unexpectedly stepped into a moment beyond her understanding.

I closed my eyes, a reflex to shut out the visual void between us. The sound of Paulina’s voice reached me like a bittersweet melody, evoking emotions I had long buried.

“How are you doing, baby?” I inquired, my words holding a tenderness that transcended the distance.

“I’m OK,” came her simple yet reassuring response.

Then, unexpectedly perceptive, she added, “Are you that stranger?”

It was a question that cut through the facade, revealing the curiosity of a child trying to make sense of the world.

A lump formed in my throat as I navigated the delicate territory of her innocence.

“Stranger? Who is this?” I queried, humor lacing my voice, attempting to lighten the mysterious aura that surrounded our interaction.

Paulina sought clarity. ”

The one who gives me presents every year?” she asked, her voice carrying a tone of both excitement and curiosity.

I chuckled, the sound reverberating through the phone.

“Ha ha, yeah, sweetheart, I’m the stranger,” I confirmed.

“Truly. I love your necklace, as well as all of your other presents. And how did you figure out that they were all my favorite things?” Paulina’s genuine enthusiasm and gratitude painted a smile on my face.

“I know everything about you, baby,” I replied, a reassurance that hinted at a deeper connection, one that transcended the material gifts exchanged over the years.

Curiosity bubbled within Paulina, and she delved further into the mystery.

“What is your name?” she inquired, a question that echoed in the silence between us.

I took a breath, a momentary pause that held the weight of uncertainty.

“I honestly don’t know what I’m about to tell you, sweetie,” I confessed.

In that vulnerable space, unsure of how to define myself to a child who had grown accustomed to the enigmatic presence behind the annual surprises, I grappled with the absence of a conventional name.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Is there a name for me?

Paulina, undeterred by the ambiguity, pressed on with another question.

“Why don’t you have a name?” Her innocent curiosity revealed an openness to understanding beyond conventional boundaries.

“I have a lot of names,” I responded cryptically.

“What will I call you then?” Paulina asked, seeking a tangible connection, a way to anchor the intangible presence in her life.

“Call me whatever you want,” I responded, a genuine smile accompanying my words. The freedom in that statement carried the weight of the unconventional connection we shared.

“What will I call him, Daddy?” she asked Derek, bringing the decision into the realm of her familial bonds.

As Derek overheard their conversation, a pang of uncertainty flashed through his mind. Tapping his temples, he pondered the implications of Paulina potentially requesting him to hand her over to the enigmatic presence in her life. The promise loomed over him, and doubt crept in.

Responding to Paulina’s direct question, “Dad, what will I call him?”

Derek sighed, his decision influenced by a blend of paternal protectiveness and acknowledgment of a promise made long ago.

“Call him Palvos,” he suggested, a name that carried a sense of familiarity yet maintained the distance required by the circumstances.

“Daddy told me to call you Palvos,” Paulina conveyed, accepting the suggested name with a nod that signified the trust she placed in her father’s choices.

“Do you like it, Palvos?” she inquired, her innocent eyes reflecting a desire for affirmation.

“I love it, honey,” I responded, my smile conveying affection.

Paulina’s innocent enthusiasm filled the airwaves as she chirped, “When will you come to meet me?” Her eagerness was contagious, and I couldn’t help but respond with a lighthearted chuckle.

“When you tell me to come, I’ll come to you,” I promised, embracing the playful banter that characterized our interactions.

To my amusement, Paulina wasted no time in exercising her newfound authority.

“Come now,” she declared with a delightful giggle, and I found myself unable to resist the genuine joy in her voice.

“All right, I’ll come,” I conceded, matching her laughter with my own.

As the conversation unfolded, Paulina shared her world with me for an entire hour. Her innocent chatter filled the void of separation, creating a bridge that spanned the gap between our distinct realities.

However, as the night progressed, the weariness of the day took its toll on the young girl, and she eventually succumbed to sleep, her gentle breaths audible through the phone.

Derek, who had been overseeing this heartwarming exchange, picked up the phone.

“Does she fall asleep?” I inquired, my voice hushed to avoid disturbing her peaceful slumber.

“Yes,” Derek confirmed, the tenderness in his tone echoing the protective love he held for Paulina.

As I continued to navigate the intricacies of this unconventional connection, a realization struck me.

“Her voice is really similar to Elena’s,” I observed, acknowledging the subtle echoes of a shared genetic melody.

Derek, however, maintained a boundary, a line drawn to preserve the delicate balance of their familial life.

“Paul, I’m not going to show you her picture. So don’t mention it anymore. It’s also late. She can get up at any time,” he cautioned, emphasizing the need to shield Paulina from unnecessary complexities.

“Alright.”

**

Derek’s POV.

I hung up the phone, my mind still lingering on the conversation with Paul. Running my fingers through Paulina’s hair, I found solace in the quiet of the night. There was an undeniable comfort in the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath.

Elena’s voice, soft and drowsy, called out to me. “Babe,” she whispered, her hand reaching out.

“I’m here, Elena,” I replied, my words a gentle reassurance in the night’s stillness.

A question, perhaps prompted by the remnants of a dream, escaped her lips. “Who is that?” she asked, her tone carrying the weight of curiosity.

“There’s nothing important, honey,” I replied, the name, “Obin” slipping from my tongue. The night held its secrets, and some were better left undisturbed.

Rising from the couch, I carefully moved Paulina to the bed. Elena, sensing the subtle shifts in the dark, drew her close, creating a haven of warmth and security.

“Come sleep,” she invited, and I joined them, the contours of our family settling into the quietude.

I wrapped my arms around both Elena and Paulina. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over us.