The Twisted Obsession
Chapter 70: Ice cream

Chapter 70: Ice cream

As the car glided through the silent streets, Abby’s voice broke the stillness, her words heavy with a sense of resignation and longing.

"I don’t want to go home," she confessed quietly, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. "I need a distraction, a break from... from everything. Just for tonight. Pretend like nothing happened today. At least until tomorrow, when I have to see my father."

Remo’s heart ached at Abby’s words, the weight of her sorrow palpable in the air between them. He understood her need to escape, if only for a fleeting moment, from the crushing weight of reality.

"I heard people get drunk to forget their problems," Abby continued, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "Can I... can I get drunk too?"

Remo’s breath caught in his throat, the raw vulnerability in Abby’s voice piercing his soul. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, offering a silent gesture of understanding and support.

"Abby," he began, his voice soft and reassuring, "getting drunk might help you forget for a little while, but it won’t make the pain go away. It’s okay to want a distraction, but I don’t want to see you hurt yourself in the process."

He paused, searching for the right words to convey his concern and care for her well-being. "Let’s find a different way to take your mind off things tonight. We can go somewhere quiet, talk, spend time together. Whatever you need, I’m here for you."

Abby shook her head, her resolve unwavering despite Remo’s gentle words of caution. The weight of her sorrow felt too heavy to bear, and the allure of temporary oblivion beckoned to her like a siren’s call.

"I want to get drunk," she whispered, her voice tinged with a mixture of desperation and determination. "I just need to numb the pain, even if it’s just for a little while."

Remo sighed, his heart heavy with concern for Abby’s well-being. He understood her need for escape, but he couldn’t bear to see her hurt herself in the process. With a heavy heart, he relented, agreeing to her request, but on one condition.

"Alright," he conceded, his voice tinged with resignation. "But only if you promise to eat first. You haven’t had anything since you ran away this morning, and I don’t want to see you make yourself sick."

Abby hesitated, the weight of Remo’s words sinking in. She knew he was right, that she needed to take care of herself, even in the midst of her pain. With a reluctant nod, she agreed to his condition, a silent acknowledgment of his concern and care for her well-being.

Remo drove in silence, the weight of the unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air. They arrived at a quaint family-owned restaurant, its warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk. Remo thought a shared meal might provide a comforting distraction for Abby.

As they entered, the aroma of home-cooked food enveloped them. Remo guided Abby to a cozy corner booth, the soft chatter of other diners creating a gentle background noise. The ambiance was intended to be soothing, a balm for Abby’s wounded spirit.

However, as Abby glanced around, her eyes fell upon a family of three at a nearby table. The parents lovingly picked food for their child, laughter and joy filling the air. The simple act of familial connection seemed to magnify the void left by Abby’s recent loss.

Her mood shifted, a wave of sorrow washing over her. Remo noticed the change in her demeanor and felt a pang of helplessness. He had hoped the restaurant’s familial atmosphere would bring comfort, not deepen Abby’s pain.

He chose a few dishes, hoping to entice her appetite, but Abby’s gaze remained distant, her thoughts undoubtedly drifting to the family across the room. Remo silently ordered the food, his concern growing with each passing moment.

When their meal arrived, Remo tried to engage Abby in conversation, sharing stories and anecdotes in an attempt to lift her spirits.

Remo’s concern deepened as Abby continued to push her food around the plate, her appetite seemingly lost in the sea of emotions that engulfed her. With a heavy heart, he gently pleaded, "Abby, please, you need to eat something. It’ll make you feel better, I promise."

She shook her head, the weight of sorrow evident in her eyes. Remo couldn’t bear to see her suffer, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. "Alright, if you won’t eat on your own, I’ll feed you," he declared, determination in his eyes.

Abby’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she couldn’t refuse the sincerity in Remo’s gaze. As he picked up a fork, he said with a gentle smile, "Come on, open up. I promise I’m an excellent chef, at least when it comes to spoon-feeding."

With a mix of reluctance and amusement, Abby opened her mouth, allowing Remo to feed her a spoonful. As she savored the taste, Remo couldn’t help but tease, "See, not so bad, right? Now, tell me, what’s your favorite comfort food?"

A small smile tugged at Abby’s lips, grateful for the distraction. "Hmm, maybe ice cream," she admitted, her eyes lighting up at the thought.

Remo’s eyebrows shot up in playful surprise at Abby’s choice of comfort food. "Ice cream, huh? Well, well, well," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Didn’t we have a memorable experience with ice cream last time?"

Abby’s cheeks flushed crimson at the reminder, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement dancing in her eyes. She couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of their playful escapade involving ice cream.

"Ah, yes," she replied, trying to suppress a giggle. "I guess we did, didn’t we? But let’s save the ice cream for another time, shall we?"

Remo chuckled, the warmth of their shared laughter filling the air between them. "Agreed," he said, feeding her another spoonful of food. "We’ll keep it strictly culinary tonight. No messy mishaps with ice cream."

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