Once, my paranoid love

“We’re looking for him,” I added, a reassurance offered in the midst of the chaos.

Yet, as Elena sought answers, the ghosts of my own actions haunted me. What would I say when I shot Paul because I couldn’t stand how he was holding you in his arms?

I was scared because I thought he had convinced you to accept him. Elena, I’m sorry, I whispered, the words a fragile admission of regret.

I exchanged a silent look of gratitude with Obin, acknowledging the unspoken understanding that revealing the truth could shatter the fragile semblance of stability that clung to our shared reality. If Elena were to discover the depths of my actions, the foundation we had built might crumble irreparably.

With Elena beside me, still reeling from the torment of grief, I guided her into the car. Her sobs echoed within the confines of the vehicle, a haunting melody of sorrow. Eventually, the tears ceased, leaving behind a silence pregnant with unspoken pain.

Exiting the car, I approached the police officers, seeking some semblance of clarity in the chaos that enveloped us.

“Sir, other than this rifle, we found nothing odd in his car,” one officer reported.

“Only this,” added another, holding out the rifle.

“Yeah,” the first officer continued, “but it’s empty.”

“What?” I exclaimed, surprised by the revelation.

“Give me the rifle,” I instructed, my hands inspecting the weapon. Indeed, it was devoid of any ammunition.

You didn’t want to kill me, did you? The unsettling realization gripped me as I grappled with the implications of Paul’s actions. Was this a misguided attempt at change, or a desperate cry for help?

Damn it! Peering into the car, I noticed Elena sitting there like a pale corpse-a silent witness to the unfolding tragedy. Paul, why did you do it? Or were you trying to change yourself?

The questions lingered, suspended in the air like unresolved echoes of a life unraveling.

The next morning dawned with an air of muted sorrow.

“Did you guys pack everything?” I inquired, my voice carrying a tinge of weariness.

“Yes sir, we packed everything of Ma’am’s and the baby’s,” two maids responded in unison, their voices a harmonious cadence in the somber atmosphere.

“Okay,” I acknowledged, ascending the stairs to find Elena standing on the balcony, her gaze fixed downward. The morning light cast a gentle glow on her figure, yet her silhouette seemed draped in the shadows of the emotional tempest that had engulfed us.

“Elena,” I called up to her, my voice a gentle plea for connection.

“We have to move now, Love,” I murmured, a subtle reminder of the need to confront the challenges awaiting us. Elena, however, remained silent, her response confined to a nod.

**

In the Blue Wave Resort hotel in Switzerland, a mundane conversation unfolded between two female staff members within the confines of a guest room.

“Hey, did you clean that room?” one of the staff members questioned the other, a note of urgency in her voice.

The other admitted, “No, I forgot about that.”

“Oh my God,” she replied, a sense of worry evident, “if the manager finds out, he’ll fire both of us.” The specter of potential consequences loomed, casting a shadow over their oversight.

The other staff member sighed, offering a remark that hinted at the peculiarities of their manager. “He’s strange and cranky. Have you seen his choices? Isn’t it so girly?”

“Shut up, he only follows his wife’s taste,” the first staff member hushed her companion, a silent reminder to tread carefully.

“Now let’s go, we have to clean the room,” they decided, their sense of duty taking precedence over their fleeting banter.

Once inside the room, the first staff member voiced a concern, “Where is the gerbera?”

“I’m sorry,” the other began to explain, but her companion interrupted with frustration, “Damn you, girl. I’m going to get some flowers.”

“Can’t we use roses?” inquired the second staff member, attempting to offer an alternative solution.

“No, gerbera is his favorite flower. Stop chatting and go to work!” the first staff member asserted, emphasizing the urgency of their task.

**

As we waited for the plane to arrive, my eyes remained fixed on Elena. The bustling atmosphere of the airport seemed to fade into the background, leaving only her figure in sharp relief against the canvas of uncertainty.

She stood there, a familiar silhouette, carrying the weight of unspoken pain and resilience. I couldn’t escape the realization that I, too, shared in the responsibility for the shadows that lingered in the periphery of her eyes.

Yes, I was also to blame. The demands of life, the complexities of our shared journey-they had at times overshadowed the attention she deserved. In the quietude of that moment, I found myself hoping that this trip would offer her the solace and peace she sought.

**

Elena’s POV.

We found ourselves aboard the plane, the hum of engines creating a gentle lull in the cabin. Paulina rested her head on Derek’s chest, a scene of serene familial connection. Her lashes, thick and reminiscent of her father’s, framed her innocent slumber.

I couldn’t help but shift my gaze away from the tender moment. It was a bittersweet reminder of the intricate dance of life-the echoes of the past intertwining with the fragile threads of the present.

As I turned my attention toward the window, a vast expanse of sky unfolded before me. The clouds, wisps of white against the azure canvas, seemed to hold secrets and untold stories within their fleeting forms.

What would it be like if I were to fall from this height? Will the sea engulf me? Can anyone survive?

Like a river, life moves at a fast pace. Only memories remain when people have gone.

I had no awareness of the moment when sleep claimed me, but as consciousness returned, we were on the brink of touching down. The subtle vibrations of the plane hinted at the impending reunion with solid ground.

“Baby, we’ve arrived,” Derek’s gentle voice stirred me from my slumber. Opening my eyes, I cast a glance outside the window, greeted by the sight of our destination unfolding below. The landscape, unfamiliar yet pregnant with the promise of new beginnings, stretched beneath us.

The plane descended gracefully, the wheels meeting the runway with a subtle jolt.

As we disembarked, I noticed a man standing amidst the airport bustle, his gaze fixed on our approach.

“Welcome,” he greeted, a warmth in his voice that extended a hand of hospitality.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.