His Little Flower (Felix and Flora)

My pulse quickened as I approached Felix’s home office, a sense of urgency pushing me forward. I was running up, and when I finally reached the room, 1 was panting. I calmed myself down. One. Two. Three. One. Two. Three.

This was something crucial that he needed to know. As the door creaked open, I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

Pushing the door open slightly, my eyes widened at the sight before me. Felix sat behind his desk, a pile of papers scattered around him. However, my attention was drawn to Sienna, the girl who had visited him before. They were engrossed in hushed conversation, Felix’s laughter echoing in the room.

Jealousy surged through me, a familiar emotion that caught me off guard. I hadn’t expected to see her here. I lingered in the doorway, watching as Sienna leaned in, her laughter mingling with Felix’s. It was a scene that felt oddly intimate, and I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach. It felt like I was an intruder in their space. I quickly shut the door and took a step back.

I waited, hoping for her departure so I could finally share what I had overheard. As Sienna left, I took a deep breath as I watched her walk away. She was really pretty. Her long, brown hair were pin straight on her back. Her stride was confident, and her body looked so good in her simple dress. I looked down at my own self. My uniform was stained with sauce. And my lips felt chapped, and my hair dry and frizzy.

Shaking my head, I stepped in. Felix looked up. He raised his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you and…..”

“Sienna.” He supplied. I knew her name already. But he didn’t know that I knew it. “It’s alright. She

I hesitated, feeling the weight of my unease. I overheard something. It’s about Liam and Linda.”

Felix sat up. He took a big gulp of water from the bottle on his table. “What happened?”

was just leaving.”

I recounted the conversation I had accidentally overheard between Liam and Linda. The mysterious flower garden, the emphasis on progress and keeping things to plan, and the urgency in Linda’s voice–it all painted a suspicious picture. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss, and I needed Felix to understand the gravity of the situation. I just couldn’t explain it to him. It gave me such a bad feeling. And not for me. For him.

I didn’t tell him about how I was with him last night. And how they had been discussing me, too.

As I spoke, Felix’s expression darkened, his brows furrowing in concentration. When I finished, there was a tense silence that hung between us. I expected him to share my concern, to acknowledge the possibility that there might be more to Llam and Linda’s actions.

Instead, Felix’s features hardened, and he sighed, “You’re overthinking this. Liam and Linda have been loyal to my family for years. There’s no reason to doubt them.”

My heart sank at his dismissal, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “But Felix, the way they were talking-

He cut me off, his tone firm. “Linda has been there for me when I needed support the most. Years ago, when you left, and I was at my worst. Her and Liam worked tirelessly for my family. I won’t entertain baseless suspicions.”

“I just thought you should know. It felt strange, and I couldn’t ignore it.”

He leaned back in his chair, his lips were turned up in a scowl. “Flora, I trust them. We have a long history together, and they wouldn’t betray me. To be honest, I know them more than I know you, right now.”

wing divide between us. His words stung. I felt my heart drop to my stomach.

The words stung, and I felt a growing d

But he hadn’t said anything wrong.

He was right. We didn’t know each other anymore,

“I just wanted to let you know,” I said softly. “I’ll leave now.”

He opened his mouth to

something. And I waited. Maybe he would apologize. But he didn’t say anything. He simply turned away from me.

Reluctantly, I nodded, not at him, just in general, understanding how things were, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. I just wanted to make sure you knew,” I repeated, “I’ll bring your lunch in a while.”

With that, I turned to leave. The air felt heavy and my head ached. As I closed the door behind me, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that lingered.

I went downstairs to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water that I drank up quickly. As I poured myself another glass, I saw Linda walk in. She looked at me and smiled in acknowledgement. I gave her a tight smile back.

The atmosphere was tense, my suspicions regarding Linda lingering like a cloud, making casual conversations feel like navigating a minefield.

“How are you handling your work, Flora?” Linda Inquired, her tone was polite as usual.

“It’s going fine. Just the usual routine.”

Linda nodded, her gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. The unease in her eyes was unmistakable, but she hid it well beneath a mask of polite interest.

As she began to leave the kitchen, an unexpected chill swept through the room. However, just as the distance between us grew, Linda paused. She turned around abruptly, her gaze piercing through me. Flora, how was your night?”

1 felt a knot tighten in my stomach. For a moment, I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. The truth spilled from my lips before I could stop it. Well, she already knew where I was last night.

“I was with Liam,” I admitted.

Linda’s expression remained unreadable, but her response sent a shiver down my spine. “Ah, with Liam. Well, I wish you all the best, Flora. You’re a very sweet girl.”

The cryptic wish and the underlying tone of condescension made my skin crawl.

As Linda left the kitchen, the door swung shut behind her, leaving me in a silent space filled with lingering discomfort.

I returned to my tasks, the mundane work of chopping vegetables and preparing ingredients doing little to dispel the disquiet that s

settled d within me.

The evening sun cast long shadows as I pulled into the driveway, a sense of weariness clinging to my every step. I had left work early. My dad wouldn’t be home right now, so I could enjoy some peace and quiet.

The living room unfolded before me, and the scene within it was one I could hardly process. My father, wrapped in a compromising embrace with a woman whose face I could barely discern. It made me want to throw up. The shock held me in my place for a fleeting moment before absolute disgust and repulsion propelled me to turn and flee.

This wasn’t the first time I had seen him with a woman. But God, in the living room. And the couch? I slept on that couch.

Hours passed, marked by a mixture of anger and apprehension, before I mustered the courage to return. I drove around in my car, got some KFC to eat and finished a small bucket of chicken, then I threw it up in the bushes. The events of the entire day had made me sick.

When I returned, my father, slouched in a chair, emanated the pungent scent of alcohol. His vacant gaze met mine as I stood in the doorway, and the hollowness within his eyes unnerved me. The woman seemed like she was long gone. Her bra lay on the flour, and the sight of it made me feel so weird and uneasy.

Two bottles of beer were on the floor. Empty, and my father’s foot accidentally touched one. It rolled under the couch.

I began to make my way inside quietly. I went to the bathroom and tore off my clothes, I stood under the shower for a long time, letting the cold water flow down my body. It was so chilly and I was shivering but it also felt so good. After a long while, I stepped out, I wrapped a robe around myself and went to the kitchen to get a drink.

I knew my Dad was still outside, but I didn’t have anything to say to him. I didn’t have anything left in me today.

The doorbell rang. I expected my Dad to open up, but it kept ringing. Sighing, I marched over to the door. I opened, and there was no one on the other side. God, those damn annoying children.

Dad watching me. “You want to get off your ass for one second, Dad?” I almost shouted.

“Don’t fucking speak to me like that, you stupid bitch.” He spat,

“Don’t fuck people on my bed.” I gave him a look of disgust. I was tired and angry and so done with his shit.

He stood up and charged at me, but he was so drunk that he stumbled and fell. I laughed. I didn’t offer to help as he struggled to get up off the floor.

We both stared at each other. “You ruined my life, he spat out, the bitterness cutting through the air like a poisoned blade. “I wish you had died with your mother.”

venomous words that cut through the room.

I stood stoically, absorbing the ver

I locked eyes with him, a defiant gaze challenging the man who had descended into a pit of self– loathing, this pit of hatred. “Fuck you, dickhead.” My voice was strangely calm and low. Like there was no feeling in it.

His face contorted with rage, and he lunged forward, his fist finding its mark on the side of my face. The force of the blow sent me staggering backward, the pain radiating from the bruise multiplying

each second, I clutched the injured area in pain. Reflexively, I pushed him away with my legs, the instinctual need for self–preservation guiding me as the room spun in a dizzying whirlwind of emotions and physical pain.

I turned and fled, seeking refuge in the bathroom again. God, I couldn’t even be alone in this house for a second. I didn’t have any damn space. The door slammed shut behind me, and I turned on the tap. The water flew into the sink, the sound drowning the loud voices in my head.

In the dimly lit room, I surveyed the reflection in the mirror–a face marred by a bruise. And it was so ugly, too. I knew it would get worse in the morning. The minutes turned to hours as the muffled sounds of my father’s drunken stupor served as a distant backdrop to the turmoil that consumed me. I heard him fall down and drop things. I heard a bottle shatter.

The night wore on, marked by the hushed sounds of a house in disarray. I kept sitting on the toilet. I didn’t go

out till morning.

I don’t know if I fell asleep or not, but when I felt conscious, I looked at the mirror again in the early hours of moming. My reflection seemed both foreign and familiar. My injured face wasn’t a new sight. But it was never any less hurtful..

Chapter Comments