Too Much To Bear My Love

Oscar suddenly stood up. Apprehensively, Amelia asked, “Mr. Clinton, are you leaving?”

Oscar walked over. He leaned over Amelia, almost pinning her onto the bed. The tips of their noses brushed against each other.

Enthralled, Amelia had no way of reining in her wildly beating heart. Her eyes darted from side to side, desperately avoiding Oscar’s intent gaze.

“What do you feel like eating? I’ll go and get it,” he said.

That was the last thing Amelia had expected to hear from Oscar at that moment.

“Now that you’re having a baby, you should eat a little more than usual. Tell me what you’re craving; I’ll buy it for you.” Oscar’s cool tone belied his apparent discomfort.

Amelia couldn’t believe her ears. This was Oscar’s first time showing concern for her baby.

“Mr. Clinton, are you actually concerned about me?” Amelia asked in disbelief.

“Enough of that. Tell me, quickly, what you want to eat,” Oscar insisted.

Amelia found the situation hilarious. Oscar seemed a lot more human now in comparison to the guarded, defensive man he usually was.

“Since you’ve offered, I can’t possibly say no. All right then. On account of Mr. Clinton’s generosity, I’d like to order a pasta arrabbiata, stewed beef, and mango sorbet to top it all off… I’m spoilt for choice! How can I decide?” Amelia asked in exaggerated despair.

Seeing that Oscar had let her off the hook for the matter with the photographs, the sudden feeling of liberation dared Amelia to joke with Oscar, something she seldom did.

Oscar only glared at her. “Amelia, don’t go overboard.”

“Don’t be so petty, Mr. Clinton. Can’t you even bear to buy these for me?” Amelia wheedled, pouting.

Oscar realized that he rather liked seeing this feminine side of Amelia.

“Wait and see; I’ll buy it all for you. Anything else?” he queried.

“I want you. Can I have that?” Amelia asked playfully.

Oscar’s face once again assumed a sober look. “You’re only allowed to say such things to me in the future. I forbid you from flirting with any other man like that.”

Flirting?

Amelia thought she had merely been casually teasing Oscar. She was rather distressed that it had been seen as flirtatious. It seemed that everyone perceived things rather differently indeed.

“Since you object, Mr. Clinton, I won’t say things like that anymore,” Amelia said, sulking.

teeth

and opened her eyes wide, beseeching Oscar in

it for

Clinton,” Amelia’s cry stopped

he asked, “What

me to the hospital. Can I borrow yours to

then handed his phone to Amelia.

to believe that that was his chosen

You can take a look if you’re bored. I’ll be off, then.” He turned quickly on his heels and left the

phone in shock. She muttered to herself, “Oscar, if you truly didn’t care for me, then why did you use my birthdate as your password? Don’t you know what kind of hope that raises in me? What if I can’t bear to let you go when it’s time

On the one hand, she didn’t want to get a divorce. On the other, Amelia was afraid that they eventually would, and

want to depend on you for the rest of my life. I

surprise that it contained many photos of her, most of them taken when she was sleeping. In a few, a single blanket covered her bare body; in others, she had fallen asleep fully clothed. The photos of Amelia numbered more than a thousand in sheer variety. It was completely unlike the

as she walked ahead. Amelia could barely even recall when these moments had taken place, let alone presented any opportunities in which Oscar had taken such flattering photographs

believed that Oscar liked her solely for her body. If he had absolutely no other feelings for her, however, then what

she had that a man who had no affection whatsoever for her would not possess so many photos of her. It was like a carefully

a few snapshots

all the photos you have are of me. Doesn’t that mean that you don’t hate me too much? Why

jolted Amelia out of her brief

screen. Upon

up. Cassie’s excited chatter floated across the line. “Oz, I went for a check-up with your secretary today. The doctor said that the baby’s very healthy.” A note of betrayal crept into her voice. “You promised that you’d

that it almost drew blood. With what strength she could muster, Amelia said evenly, “Sorry, Ms. Yard, it’s Amelia. Oz, as

silent for a moment. Then she retorted,

to buy food for me,”

blatant cheating affair at your company, which was even documented in a few photographs, how can you be so shameless as to stay with Oz?”

Shakily, she asked, “How did you know about

who told me. Oz said you are, by far, the most filthy and disgusting woman he’s met. It’s not for me to judge a gold-digger, but going

place to comment on the kind of woman I am. Even if I’m

I’ll be Oz’s wife soon. No matter what, you’re the one who’ll

ground valiantly. “So what? At least I’m still Oscar’s wife now. You’re the mistress he’s ashamed of. When word

said, “Don’t be too pleased with yourself either, Amelia. Do you know what Oscar told me this morning? He said that you were filthy and made him sick, and he hasn’t divorced you only because you’re pregnant. He didn’t think you’d be bold enough to have an affair in your condition.

Yard, if you have nothing else to

reply,

facing away from the door with the blanket over her. He didn’t know if

hurriedly set down his bags and pulled a chair over. He sat down and reached

She then