My Boss Is Secretly A Softie - Chapter 43

Chapter 43: Triggered
“Here’s your drink,” Elara spoke softly while handing over a glass of juice to John with a neutral look which distorted to a deep frown when the audacious male caressed her hands before taking the glass.

“What’s wrong?” John asked innocently, looking at her in a way that tickled her anger.

Elara shook her head before letting out a sigh, moving to sit opposite the male without replying.

“John, what do you want?” she asked, her voice holding a certain exhaustion to them which reflected her current turbulent mood.

John took a sip from his drink before lifting his eyes to Elara’s, “You.”

“Ha!” A sharp laugh slipped through her lips, her eyes widened comically, and she donned a smile that expressed her mood more than a frown ever could.

“What is it?” John questioned obliviously as if aiming to fan the flames brewing within Elara.

She closed her eyes while taking a deep breath to calm down before facing the infuriating male with a dark look, “John, don’t push it.”

He merely turned his eyes to the red liquid inside his cup, bubbling softly—appearing especially refreshing. Unable to resist, he took a big gulp, halving the juice, before sighing in satisfaction. It really was as refreshing as it appeared.

“I love you and I have decided to chase you,” John replied calmly before looking towards Elara with clear dark eyes, “Did you think I came here just to say hi?”

“… Who was your informant?” Elara asked menacingly.

“What would you do if I told you?” He asked inquisitively.

“Let you sleep here, or else I’ll call the police and have you arrested,” Elara replied lightly, her sharp gaze never leaving him.

“Then I’ll pay a visit to your boyfriend for a special discussion,” John responded with a cynical smile.

“… Are you threatening me?” Elara asked slowly with a tone that seemed to dare him to respond rudely, but he did anyway.

“Yes.”

A sharp silence besieged the room, and a tension as suffocating as carbon dioxide came along with it.

Elara squinted her eyes gloomily, staring at the nonchalant male as their eyes () in a silent battle.

“Hssss….” A sharp breath ripped through thick silence, followed by a soft sigh.

Elara’s turbulent eyes settled down, and she stared at the unshaken male with a helpless look. To be fair, she did threaten himself; useless anger and threats wouldn’t solve this—she had to be more civilized.

“Can we talk about this after we calm down?” She pleaded lightly, her softened expression a striking difference from her previous rage.

John felt a laughter bubble within him, but he suppressed it. He had once thought he knew Elara, but boy was he wrong.

The ‘Lara’ impersona she took with him never once showed this rage. She was always calm, mature, and sweet. He had felt there was more to her, but never really got into that feeling. Oh, what a fool he was to not have.

It left him with the gnawing curiosity that persisted ever since his first love showed her true face—

“Who are you, truly?” It was but a simple question, and he never expected such a raw, animalistic response.

Elara’s calm shattered instantly like a toppling glass vase that finally toppled over, and a sharper, more explosive emotion blew up in his face.

She stood up, stumbling backward, body trembling incessantly, pupils quivering and constantly shifting, unable to maintain a particular view. Her breathing became visibly labored, and she clutched her chest, bending downwards with her panicked gasps echoing through the room— scattered hair painting a chaotic image.

He moved even before his brain could, pushing all hesitation and doubt aside to help the panicked lady, but had barely approached when she shoved at him with the power of a horse’s kick, sending him to the floor.

“Get out!” she roared, this time revealing a raw and unrestrained expression of rage, “Get out! Get out!”

He was too stunned to move— almost as if his buttocks were firmly planted on the floor. And when the dragonistic lady saw this, her head exploded.

She grabbed at the half-filled cup harshly, causing a sweet-smelling red liquid to spill to the floor. And with a huge slam, she shattered the edge of the cup on the coffee table, leaving only a stump, which she pointed at John— a terrifying madness filling her eyes.

Her head tilted in an almost dramatic show of insanity as she asked, a burst of crying laughter escaping her, “Why won’t you leave? Do you want me to stab you?”

John was mesmerized. Never in his whole life did he think he would see this version of Elara. She was raw, unfiltered, chaotic, yet still as magnetic as ever. She was like a peacock who had finally fanned out its hidden colors, stained with a layer of grit and imperfection that it had so dearly tried to hide. She was…. beautiful.

“You finally revealed what you were trying so desperately to hide…” he muttered dazedly.

These words seemed to strike a chord in Elara’s mind, bringing her back to reality. Her eyes widened in horror as she took a step back, muttering incoherently in blatant shock.

Seeing this, John sneakily stood up but was immediately stopped when a fierce gaze from Elara fixated on him, and before he could say a word, she picked him up by his collar, rather effortlessly, and singlehandedly flung him out of her room causing his body to skid through the grassy field—A rather painful experience, before the door was slammed in his face— hard.

“….”

Maybe he really had to leave now.

“Elara, I’ll be back tomorrow. Let me in, or else I’ll introduce myself as your boss’s friend.”

SMASH!

Another shattering of glass was heard, leaving John beduffled. At least she destroyed the stump to avoid hurting herself—hopefully.

He was slightly worried, but on remembering his goal, scoffed before standing up to leave.

He should probably make a quick stop at the hospital, but something still had him baffled. Why was Elara so triggered by his words?