When That Door Opens - Chapter 76
Staring blankly out the window, Julieta envisioned Verne’s face.
His thick, dark hair matching the color of his pubic hair, the sharp nose that had rubbed against her cl*t*ris, the red lips glistening with her fluids – all she could remember was his lascivious face.
Come to think of it, they had never shared a proper meal. Even when they sat across from each other, they would end up entangled if their eyes met. Their relationship had always been strange.
As soon as she thought about how much she missed him, the itch between her legs flared up. Could this yearning, or perhaps love, be attributed to the fact that he was her first partner?
However, Julieta was a writer of e****c novels. Though she had never been in a proper romantic relationship, she instinctively understood the movements of a woman’s heart.
She realized this was undoubtedly love.
Whether it began with s*x or not, regardless of how she had used him, her feelings raced towards him. What she wanted to do when they met wasn’t important. What mattered was the emotion of wanting to see him. The absence and pain she felt when someone who had once been part of her world disappeared could only be explained by the emotion called love.
How could she meet him again?
Julieta recalled their previous encounters. Whether at the office or the pub, he had always been the one to open the door and find her. So this time, Julieta needed to be the one to open the door.
She stepped out onto the main street and waved her hand. A carriage waiting in a line clattered towards her.
“To Bailey Street, No. 37, please.”
She spat out the words quickly and climbed into the carriage. Her heart raced as if she had just run a marathon.
Once she acknowledged her feelings, they rushed towards the finish line like a determined athlete.
‘Verne, please listen to me. You have to listen to me.’
In the swaying carriage, Julieta pondered what to say to Verne.
Despite being a writer, she struggled to find the right words for a confession.
The more she thought, the more tangled her words became, so she decided to keep it simple.
I love you?
That felt too intense.
I like you.
That seemed too weak.
I miss you, always.
Yes, that was just right.
Having settled on her words, Julieta leaned her head against the carriage wall. She hadn’t slept well for days, consumed by thoughts of Verne. Just knowing she was on her way to see him brought peace to her heart. Sleep gently crept over her.
“We’re almost there, miss.”
It felt like she had only closed her eyes for a moment, but she must have fallen into a deep sleep because they were already in front of Verne’s mansion.
Seeing the mansion up close, it exuded an overwhelming presence. The enormous pillars supporting the roof, the marble floors, and the sculptures carved into the arched windows.
For a moment, she thought of her humble home and realized just how different she and Verne were. Perhaps Verne would scoff at her confession and reject her. He had nothing to lose.
‘He probably will, knowing him.’
Julieta braced herself for rejection and headed toward the mansion. The door was half-open, making it easy to enter.
“Ah…”
Her lips parted, and a pained sigh escaped. The house was empty. The vast painting of a meadow that had greeted her as she entered was gone, as was the rug she had planned to ask about.
Verne had left!
Julieta instinctively ran to his room. Taking the stairs two at a time, she quickly reached the third-floor room. Without pausing to catch her breath, she flung the door open. Like the empty lobby, all traces of him were gone.
The sofa they had fooled around on, the table where she had finished her second book, and the chair where he had tasted her were still there, but his clothes, the fountain pen he used, and his cologne were all missing.
He had left, abandoning everything related to her.
Julieta stumbled and sank to the floor. She was the pitiful heroine who realized her feelings too late and regretted everything. A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
“Where did you go, Verne?”
Only one person’s belongings were missing, but the room felt as vast as a sprawling plain. She glanced around the expansive space and muttered.
She hadn’t even gotten to confess and was already rejected.
The anger from that was unbearable.
When I Opened Up
She packed a simple suitcase and boarded the train. After some hesitation, Julieta also placed the draft of her next manuscript into her bag.
“Are you really leaving?”
The bloodshot eyes of the publishing house employee looked pitiful. Dark circles were deeply etched under his eyes. The person who had been overjoyed to sign a contract with Julieta for her next work had, within days, turned into a shadow of his former self.
“I promise to finish it and send it to you.”
Julieta held out her pinky finger. Reluctantly, the publishing house employee hooked his finger with hers.
