My ex-husband's nightmare - Chapter 55: Chapter 55

Lydia
He moved to the bed and picked up my hands.
I moved my hands away this time.
“Fine.” I wasn't going to leave.
He tried to smile but failed. Then he stood, moved to the side, poured water from a jug into an empty glass, and brought it to me.
“Have some.”
I looked at him with curious eyes, reluctant to take the water.
“I didn't poison it.”
“I don't trust you.” His lips pressed together as if he were trying to hold back the disappointment he felt that I doubted him.
“Fine.” He lifted the glass to his lips and took slow sips. "See, I'm fine.” he handed me the glass, and I didn't reject it this time.
I took slow sips at first and then large gulps.
Mason just stares at me. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hands, feeling a bit energized from the water.
I attempted to place the glass on the table, but he stopped me and took it from me so I didn't have to stretch.
“Do you remember this place?” he asked.
I tried not to allow my eyes to wander. Of course, I remember, why won't I?
This is a place that holds many memories of us.
“It has so many memories of us.” He continued. I rested my head on the pillow and closed my eyes.
I don't want to remember those times which I once thought were the good times.
But I do.
However, I couldn't separate the memories from the naive girl. I still have nightmares of that day, the day his stepfather died.
I closed my eyes, and I could picture everything. The shock in Zoe's eyes when she pulled the trigger.
The splatter of blood on me.
And Mason's face. How they held so much disappointment. How it killed me that he refused to believe me.
Then, my mind diverted to the time I spent in prison. I can still hear Mason's voice in the background, but I couldn't comprehend the words he spilled.
My mind was on a journey of its own.
The picture of him seated across from me in the visitor's room. His cold gaze, his harsh words.
He wants me to remember the good times we had in this penthouse, but I can no longer separate these memories.
The good times went with the bad.
This fueled my resolve.
He had used and dumped me. Dating another woman behind my back.
He cheated on me.
He shouldn't be reminding me of these memories.
“The armchair was your favorite part of this room then,” he said. I opened my eyes at that moment.
“Did you bring me here to rekindle memories?” My voice is flat when I speak. He looked stunned for a bit.
Typical of Mason, how didn't I notice this selfish side all along?
All he cared about was himself. He must love listening to his voice, seeing how he kept on speaking, knowing fully well that I didn't want to listen.
“No, I was just…” I adjusted on the bed, staring right at him with one brow raised and my hands crossed over my chest.
“You were just what?” He tried to speak but couldn't form a coherent word.
“Why didn't you take me to the hospital? What's your true plan in bringing me here?” I pinned him down with my gaze, shifting the conversation away from the parts of me I was running from.
It was refreshing seeing this. The proud and confident Mason, simmering under my gaze.
He pressed his lips together. He was now seated on the stool close to me. He sat straight. I figured he was trying to intimidate me with his size.
I didn't break contact with him, “I had your pills here in the penthouse. I fed it to you, just like you always take it.”
He had my pills. I looked around; maybe he found them in my bag.
“Your bag isn't here.” He said, and I stopped looking around.
“I'll have my P.A. bring it to you.” He went ahead and told me how he had taken me out in a hurry, which was the reason he had forgotten the purse.
I wonder where Marcus had been at that time.
But wait. My thoughts came to a stop.
Does this mean he had my pills here?
Why would he have them? True, we kept a bottle of the pills here in the penthouse, but that was over five years ago.
The last one would have expired. This means one thing, he kept renewing them. But why?
That's the least of my concerns currently, so I pushed my questions back.
The cool air from the air conditioning hit my skin, mingling with the breeze from the window at the side. The curtains moved slightly in the wind.
I inhaled sharply, trying to gather my thoughts. The air is cold and damp.
My phone isn't here, so I can't send a text to Mom. She must be worried sick right now.
I thought about borrowing his phone, but then decided against it since I'd want to speak to the twins as well.
The room was silent. But it didn't last as Mason's voice cut right through it, “I've been meaning to ask.” I raised my head, wondering if this was how the night would go.
I turned to him; his eyes were lowered, and my dress had gone down. He swallowed.
He didn't meet my eyes, and when his eyes rested on my stomach, I had the urge to wrap my hand around my stomach to protect it from his piercing gaze.
No. He won't be asking what I thought. There's no way he'd do that, right?
“I have been curious,” I shook my head, knowing fully well that he could see me.
“The baby, your pregnancy, how… where…” he held my gaze briefly, “What about the baby?”