Emilia pov
As we walked into his mansion, I couldn't help but gasp in awe. The place screamed wealth and opulence, with crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and lavish furnishings. I felt like I had stepped into a different world, one that was far removed from my own humble existence.
Servants greeted him as we entered, bowing and curtsying with deference. But he ignored them, his eyes fixed on some point ahead as he continued walking. I felt a sense of embarrassment wash over me, unsure of how to react in this unfamiliar surroundings.
As we climbed the staircase, I couldn't help but feel like a charity case, being carried by this wealthy stranger like a damsel in distress. I tried to protest, to tell him to put me down, but he ignored me, his grip on me tightening as we reached the top of the stairs.
He walked down a long hallway, lined with expensive artwork and ornate vases, before stopping at a door at the end. He pushed it open and carried me inside, depositing me gently on a plush bed.
I looked around, taking in the lavish decor of the room. It was like a five-star hotel suite, with a sitting area, a fireplace, and a massive en-suite bathroom. I felt like I was in a dream.
He walked over to a dresser and pulled out a first aid kit, his movements efficient and precise.
"Let me take a look," he said, his voice firm.
As he bent down to tend to my wound, I hissed in pain when he applied the antiseptic spirit. But he didn't flinch or apologize, his expression remaining neutral as he continued to clean and dress the wound.
I felt a surge of embarrassment at my reaction, wondering what he must think of me. Was I being weak or fragile? I tried to brush off the feeling, telling myself it was just a natural response to pain.
But as he continued to work on my knee, his hands moving with a precision and gentleness that belied his stoic expression, I couldn't shake off the feeling of vulnerability. I was at his mercy, relying on him for care and assistance.
When he finally finished and stood up, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. But as I looked up at him, I saw no hint of sympathy or understanding in his eyes. He simply turned and walked away, leaving me feeling embarrassed and unsure of what to make of him.
He came back a minute later and asked, "Can you walk?"
I stood up, testing my weight on my knee. "Yeah, I can walk a little."
He nodded and walked with me to the entrance of the mansion. Outside, he called his driver and instructed him to take me home.
The driver helped me into the car, and as we drove away, I turned back to look at him. He was standing in the doorway, his expression still neutral. I smiled and waved, feeling a sense of gratitude towards him.
But he didn't wave back. He simply turned and walked back into his mansion, leaving me feeling embarrassed and stupid. I realized that he didn't know me, and I didn't know him. He was just a stranger who had helped me in my time of need.
As we drove away from the mansion, I couldn't help but glance back, hoping to catch a glimpse of him again. But he was already gone, vanished into the depths of his opulent home. I felt a pang of disappointment, wondering why I had expected him to wave goodbye or show some sign of affection.
The driver, a polite and silent man, asked for my address and expertly navigated the streets to take me back to campus. I gave him directions, still lost in thought about the mysterious stranger who had helped me.
When we arrived at my dorm, the driver helped me out of the car and bid me a quiet farewell. I watched as the car drove away, feeling a mix of emotions: gratitude, sadness, and a hint of curiosity. Who was this man, really? And why did I feel so drawn to him?
I walked back to my room, my knee still throbbing slightly, but my mind racing with thoughts of him.
I entered my room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it for a moment. My roommate, Helen, looked up from her phone and scowled. "Where have you been?" she asked gruffly.
I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. Helen and I had never gotten along, and I knew she wouldn't care about my well-being. "Just out," I said vaguely.
Helen raised an eyebrow. "You're limping. What happened to you?"
I shrugged, not wanting to get into it with her. "Just a minor accident. I'm fine."
Helen snorted. "Sure you are. You're always getting into trouble, aren't you?"
I felt a surge of annoyance, but I bit back a retort. I didn't want to engage with Helen's negativity. Instead, I went to my bed and lay down, i put on my headphone to listen to some classic violin music trying to put the encounter with the mysterious stranger out of my mind. Wait i forgot to ask him his name.
I couldn't shake the feeling that our meeting had been significant, that there was something more to it than just a chance encounter. And I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever see him again. I removed my headphone and looked across the room and saw helen was asleep.so i closed my eye to try and sleep cause i had lectures tomorrow.
As I drifted off to sleep, I felt a pang of loneliness. I wished I had someone to talk to, someone who would understand. But Helen was definitely not that person.