Chapter 172: ~Hellbound~
"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 . What would I say when I shot Paul because I couldn’t stand how he was holding you in his arms?
Like a river, life moves at a fast pace. Only mories remain when people have gone.
I couldn’t help but shift my gaze away from the tender mont. It was a bittersweet reminder of the intricate dance of life—the echoes of the past intertwining with the fragile threads of the present.
"What?" I exclaid, surprised by the revelation.
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.
"Can’t we use roses?" inquired the second staff mber, attempting to offer an alternative solution.
"No, gerbera is his favorite flower. Stop chatting and go to work!" the first staff mber asserted, emphasizing the urgency of their task.
**
Exiting the car, I approached the police officers, seeking so semblance of clarity in the chaos that enveloped us.
"Only this," added another, holding out the rifle.
As we waited for the plane to arrive, my eyes remained fixed on Elena. The bustling atmosphere of the airport seed to fade into the background, leaving only her figure in sharp relief against the canvas of uncertainty.
"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.
"Elena," I called up to her, my voice a gentle plea for connection.
"Baby, we’ve arrived," Derek’s gentle voice stirred
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.
"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 lood, casting a shadow over their oversight.
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.
"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 seed draped in the shadows of the emotional tempest that had engulfed us.
The other admitted, "No, I forgot about that."
**
The questions lingered, suspended in the air like unresolved echoes of a life unraveling.
What would it be like if I were to fall from this height? Will the sea engulf ? Can anyone survive?
"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.
"Give
the rifle," I instructed, my hands inspecting the weapon. Indeed, it was devoid of any ammunition.
"Sir, other than this rifle, we found nothing odd in his car," one officer reported.
The next morning dawned with an air of muted sorrow.
As I turned my attention toward the window, a vast expanse of sky unfolded before . The clouds, wisps of white against the azure canvas, seed to hold secrets and untold stories within their fleeting forms.
"Did you guys pack everything?" I inquired, my voice carrying a tinge of weariness.
With Elena beside , still reeling from the tornt of grief, I guided her into the car. Her sobs echoed within the confines of the vehicle, a haunting lody of sorrow. Eventually, the tears ceased, leaving behind a silence pregnant with unspoken pain.
Elena’s POV.
Yes, I was also to bla. The demands of life, the complexities of our shared journey—they had at tis overshadowed the attention she deserved. In the quietude of that mont, I found myself hoping that this trip would offer her the solace and peace she sought.
I had no awareness of the mont when sleep claid , 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.
The plane descended gracefully, the wheels eting the runway with a subtle jolt.
You didn’t want to kill , did you? The unsettling realization gripped
as I grappled with the implications of Paul’s actions. Was this a misguided attempt at change, or a desperate cry for help?
"Now let’s go, we have to clean the room," they decided, their sense of duty taking precedence over their fleeting banter.
The other staff mber 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?"
As we disembarked, I noticed a man standing amidst the airport bustle, his gaze fixed on our approach.
"I’m sorry," the other began to explain, but her companion interrupted with frustration, "Damn you, girl. I’m going to get so flowers."
"Welco," he greeted, a warmth in his voice that extended a hand of hospitality.
**
In the Blue Wave Resort hotel in Switzerland, a mundane conversation unfolded between two female staff mbers within the confines of a guest room.
"Hey, did you clean that room?" one of the staff mbers questioned the other, a note of urgency in her voice.
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?
"Yeah," the first officer continued, "but it’s empty."
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, frad her innocent slumber.
Once inside the room, the first staff mber voiced a concern, "Where is the gerbera?"
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.
"Shut up, he only follows his wife’s taste," the first staff mber hushed her companion, a silent reminder to tread carefully.
To be continued.
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