Chapter 3: A Growing Affection
1120 Words
The days on the hill passed slowly, but with each sunset, Marissa and Arga drew closer. It began with casual conversations and small talk as they walked the winding paths around the villa or shared a quiet cup of coffee on the terrace overlooking the valley. The villa, once filled with laughter and warmth when her children were around, had grown eerily quiet since they left. But Arga’s presence brought a gentle liveliness Marissa hadn’t felt in years.
One morning, Marissa invited Arga to join her for breakfast. It was a simple meal—fresh bread, homemade jam, and eggs—but the gesture was sincere. They sat outside, the cool breeze carrying the scent of wildflowers, and as they ate, they spoke of small things. Arga learned that Marissa’s villa had been a family project, a dream she and her late husband had built together. Before their children were born, They bought the land years ago and slowly transformed it into a beautiful retreat with a cozy restaurant that drew visitors from all over.
“My husband, Rian, always believed in creating something that would last,” Marissa said, her voice soft as she stared at her cup. “He said the hill had a special kind of magic, a way of making people feel at peace. I think that’s why he loved it so much.”
Arga listened, nodding occasionally. He could see the love and pride in her eyes as she spoke of her husband. It was clear that Rian had been a big part of Marissa’s life, and even though he had been gone for ten years, his presence lingered in everything around the villa—from the well-maintained garden to the photos hanging on the walls. Arga could sense the depth of her loss, and for a moment, he felt a pang of guilt. Here he was, a stranger with secrets, intruding on her sanctuary.
“I’m sorry,” Marissa said, breaking the silence. “I must sound like an old woman talking about the past like this.”
“Not at all,” Arga replied, his tone gentle. “It’s nice to hear about him. It sounds like he was a good man.”
“He was,” Marissa said, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “He was the best man I ever knew. Losing him... it was like losing a part of myself. I still find it hard to believe sometimes.”
Arga didn’t know how to respond. What words could he offer to someone who had lost so much? He thought about his life and how he had lost everything he had built, but it wasn’t the same. Marissa had lost a person, someone she had loved and shared her life with. It made his problems seem small in comparison, but it also made him realize how lonely she must have been all these years.
They continued their breakfasts together, and slowly, the conversations deepened. Marissa began to share more stories about her life, her children, and the challenges she faced running the villa and restaurant independently. She spoke of her son, who was now managing his business in the city, and her daughter, studying abroad. There was pride in her voice and a hint of sadness when she spoke of them. Arga could tell that she missed them terribly.
“Running the restaurant has been... difficult,” Marissa admitted one evening as they sat on the terrace, watching the sun dip below the horizon. “I’ve had help, of course, but it’s not the same. Rian used to handle everything easily, and I always felt like I was following his lead. Now, I have to make all the decisions, and sometimes I wonder if I’m doing it right.”
Arga could relate to that feeling of uncertainty, the constant doubt that plagued every decision. “You’re doing fine,” he said, hoping his words would offer comfort. “The villa, the restaurant—everything here feels warm and welcoming. You’ve kept his dream alive.”
“Thank you,” Marissa said, her eyes meeting his. “That means a lot.”
Their conversations often drifted to lighter topics—books, music, the beauty of the hill—but there was always an underlying sense of connection. They were both people who had lost something, trying to find solace in the quiet moments they shared. But while Marissa was open about her past, Arga was more guarded. He spoke of his childhood and love for nature, but he skillfully steered the conversation away when the topic turned to his life in the city. He wasn’t ready to tell Marissa everything, not yet.
There were times when Marissa would catch him staring off into the distance, a faraway look in his eyes, and she wondered what he was thinking. She sensed there was more to his story than he was letting on, but she didn’t press. After all, she knew what it was like to carry a burden, to hide your pain behind a smile. If Arga wanted to share, he would do so when he was ready.
One afternoon, as they were walking along the path up the hill, Marissa stumbled and nearly fell. Arga instinctively reached out to catch her, his hand gripping her arm. For a moment, they stood there, close, their eyes meeting. Marissa felt her heart skip a beat, surprised by the sudden rush of warmth that spread through her chest. She pulled away, quickly brushing it off with a laugh. But as they continued walking, she couldn’t help but steal glances at him, wondering if he had felt it too.
Arga, for his part, was just as confused by his feelings. He had come to the hill to escape, to find peace, but he hadn’t expected to find someone like Marissa. She was kind, intelligent, and strong in a way that reminded him of everything he had lost. He was drawn to her, not just because of her warmth, but because she made him feel less alone. But he knew better than to let himself get too close. His past was a dark cloud hanging over him, and he didn’t want it to cast a shadow over her life.
Still, denying the growing affection between them became more arduous as the days passed. They were two souls seeking solace, finding comfort in each other’s company. But Arga knew that if this continued, he would have to tell her the truth—about his past, debts, and why he had come to the hill in the first place. It was a risk, but he was starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Marissa was worth it.
- Writer
