28. Zara
ZARA
It’s done. He’ll die, and then I can finally be free of him––escape the madness.
Bile shoots up my throat, and I snap my seat belt open, slapping a palm over my mouth as I rush toward the back of the jet. Inside the small bathroom, I lock myself in and bend over the toilet, spewing the poison coating my belly in long, constant spurts.
My chest heaves with each heavy breath, my throat sore from vomiting to the point of exhaustion. A putrid taste lingers on my tongue, and I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, hugging the toilet like it’s the only thing anchoring me.
A knock sounds, the flight attendant asking, “Ma’am, is everything all right?”
No. Nothing is all right. Nothing will ever be all right.
“Go away.”
With every minute, it feels as if my life essence slips away. My emotions riot in my chest, shattering my heart.
I will never overcome his loss.
I will never overcome his love.
Killing him was the only way. I know it, but sadness weighs heavily on me, killing my spirit too.
I stay there, caring only about soothing the hole he carved in my chest, making me bleed out with this love I want gone like him.
Tears spill from my eyes, each drop splashing in the bowl and reminding me of what I did. Heaving again, I expel more venom. I can’t stop throwing up, draining myself of energy. I don’t think I can stand even if I want to, weak to my bones.
Every time his face flashes before my eyes, it hits me anew with such violence that it knocks me down.
I dab at my tears with the back of my hands, but I can’t stop them from falling. Just like I can’t stop my heart from hurting.
What did I do?
I shouldn’t have left him there to die.
I should have kept his damn ass alive and let him face the fact that he lost me.
I am about to ask the pilot to turn the jet around and tear his damn soul from hell if I need to, so he can stay the fuck alive and suffer just like I have for years. I am not done with him. I will never be done with him, dooming us to an endless cycle of hellish pain.
Just then, my phone rings, Noemi’s name flashing on the screen. “He’s dying.” The hurt in her voice triggers my guilt, and I throw up some more.
“Zara?”
I don’t think I am alive either. My soul is busy finding his.
I don’t want to lie to my best friend.
She should hate me for what I did. He is her family, and she just buried her father.
What have I done?
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t… I don’t…”
“What happened?” she asks softly, but anger underlines the question, aware it was me.
I lost my best friend as well.
I was an emotional mess, and he caught me off guard. Startled, I flinched and pulled the trigger.
Ugly sobs wrench from my chest, and I cry so hard I don’t even care if I flood this damn jet and cause a short circuit.
There is no Zara without Vian.
And no Vian without Zara.
Our mad love is like this.
But betrayal runs deep.
Mistakes have piled up.
We can never return to our beginning.
We can never repair what we shattered.
It’s okay, Vian. I set your soul free.
I am used to being a wandering ghost.
“Show me,” I whisper, and she sends me a picture.
Seeing my mountain of a man, with the beauty of a god, the mind of the devil, and the heart of a human, suspended between life and death feels like an oxymoron.
His face is colorless, leaving only a ghostly shadow behind the ventilator, the only thing keeping him alive.
“As his wife, you must make the decision whether or not to unplug him. He wouldn’t want to live like this.”
“I can’t, Noemi. I really can’t,” I choke up, hanging up.
I don’t care how much it costs, my sanity included. I’ll keep him like that––alive.
I remain in the bathroom long after we land. Various members of my staff have checked on me.
“If someone asks me if I’m all right one more time, I will come out just to shoot the next person,” I snap at the flight attendant, the pilot, and my security guards knocking on my door.
It’s my fucking jet, and if I want to stay here, I will—in purgatory, lingering between life and death, past and present.
I can’t go back. Not yet. In my frail state, I will blow my brains out and unplug him at the same time.
I might hate him with every fiber of my being, but I also love him with every fractured heartstring.
To torture his ass for an eternity sounds too appealing. I smile, imagining that when a message from my therapist pops up on my phone.
I ignore it, even though I need to see her and unravel my past some more. Like a madwoman, I realized he was the mystery man, then stormed out and went straight to him with every intention of killing him.
It was that damn house that finally did it.
The home we never got to live in.
The future he planned for us, but burned down.
His fault, yet I should at least have listened. Listened to his side of the story. I didn’t believe myself impulsive, but with him, I discovered plenty of new things about myself. I reacted on impulse, and it cost me everything.
He had so many chances. I would have believed him, just as I ignored all the clues pointing at him.
“Zara,” Conrad knocks.
“Traitor. You fucking traitor. You should pack your stuff because when I get out, I will kill you next.”
“Fine,” he says matter-of-factly and turns the handle, but it doesn’t give. “But open the door.”
“At your own risk,” I bite, yanking the door open.
Dizziness hits me, and I brace against the doorframe, his eyes widening with obvious concern.
I must look like shit, but I couldn’t care less.
My vision blurs, seeing double. I stumble back, and he catches me, gently lowering me down.
We cram into the small bathroom, the stench of puke and sorrow lingering heavy in the air.
I fold myself into the corner, turning into a little girl who needs her daddy. The father that the love of my life killed.
How can this be my life?
Using the last reserves of my strength, I stare him down and say through gritted teeth, “You should leave. I’m not kidding.”
“Fine, fucking kill me. I’m still going to stay here and make sure you’re okay.”
“As if I could ever be okay again…”
He’s staying at his own risk, but I lack the energy to deal with the man I thought had my back, the man I believed was loyal to me.
“You’ve worked for him all along.” I push the words out through my sore throat.
He stretches his arms, revealing his open palms. “No, I’ve worked for you all along. But yes, especially since it aligned with my purpose of watching over you and having your best interests at heart.”
“Sure,” I grumble. “I shot him. He’s dying.”
I burst into ugly sobs, and he crawls to me, attempting to comfort me, but another man coming near me while I grieve my husband sickens me. I bend over the toilet, throwing up my guts until there’s nothing left in my stomach but misery.
“Zara… let me help you. Please.”
I shake my head with such force that I might dislocate it. “No.”
“I’ll force you,” he says low.
“You really want to die? Leave me alone,” I shout, curling into the fetal position.
He shakes his head, helplessness blanketing his facial features. “The asshole would come back from the dead if he saw you like this.”
A small smile parts my lips. “I wanted to kill him.” I just didn’t want him to die.
“Who knows?” he asks, in business mode.
“His cousin.”
“This is not good.”
My heart is breaking piece by piece, and he thinks I care about the implications? I guess that’s why he’s my right hand.
“Do you think I’m weak?” I croak, dejection pulling me under a merciless wave.
“No.”
“Then why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
Oh, I will still kill him. He betrayed me as well, but I will postpone that until I gather some strength.
“In all the time I’ve known him, Vian has had only one weakness. You. He needed someone to watch over you, and he trusted me with it. It was an honor.”
“You’ve known him for that long?” What I don’t ask, but imply, is whether we met before.
As if he can read my mind, he says, “I was the son of one of his trainers. We developed a friendship over the years. When you two were together, I was abroad for my studies.”
Maybe that’s why I trusted him even if I didn’t understand why.
“He was terrified of the risks of you finding out. He tried, Zara. I know you don’t want to believe it, but he did. Vian is selfless only with you. He preferred you forgetting him to him causing you to slip into a place where he couldn’t reach you at all.”
I detect no trace of insincerity in his voice. He tells the truth.
Deep down, I think what caused my breakdown was the fact that I loved him despite what he did, and I couldn’t cope with the duality.
Coldness seeps through my bones, and I wrap my arms around myself to warm my frozen being. “He should have told me.”
“And risk your well-being? He stayed as far away as he could from you, protecting you from afar even if it fucking killed him.”
“Stop taking his side,” I snap. “I want to be alone.”
“I’m not taking his side. I am giving you another perspective.” He inhales a lungful of air and gives me an unapologetic glance. “And I can’t leave you alone.”
“Stay at your own risk. You should be long gone and pray I can’t find you.”
Silence descends as thick as the walls pressing my brain together until it might explode from the pressure.
“I told him I hit on you.”
“Fuck. Good that you killed him, then,” he tries in a joking tone, then realizes what he said, but it’s too late.
I hold on to my belly, nothing left of me to expunge, yet another wave of nausea hits me, and needing an outlet for the pain, I throw up again.
Conrad rushes to my side, patting my back. “I have you, Zara. It’s okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay. Stop saying that shit,” I scream loud enough my voice turns hoarse.
I stand up, but then everything turns black, I stumble and fall. Good. Please be there, Vian.
A pungent smell tickles my nostrils, and my eyes fly open to Conrad saying, “You fainted.”
Looking around, I realize I am in my bedroom at the compound, down to the needle in my arm transporting a transparent liquid from an IV.
I am about to rip it off when he catches my hand. “These are vitamins. You’re dehydrated.”
He slumps back to my side, and I stare at the ceiling.
“He also drew some blood. Just in case,” he says, his voice laced with caution, triggering my nerves.
“In case of what?” I ask, not understanding what he implies.
He eyes my belly.
“No. That can’t be.” I gulp, trying to infuse as much confidence as I can. Imagine me killing not only my husband but my baby’s father.
What am I? Fucking cursed. No, that can’t be. Everything is all right. Nothing is all right, that damn annoying inner voice reminds me.
Perhaps going insane was inevitable, and Vian simply delayed it.
“Any news?”
He shakes his head, a shadow of concern falling over his face. “It will be war. Alliances will be rethought. You married an associate of the Syndicate, which you yourself are, but you still killed a member.”
“Stop saying that.”
He’s alive. He’s still alive. Knowing the damn asshole, he is clawing his way out of hell to torment me some more. He’s good at playing me. He made me fall in love with him despite all my alarm bells ringing louder than thousands of church bells. Not a blind woman in love, but a deaf woman in love.
Yeah, I should unplug him to be sure.
As if you’re capable of that, the inner voice taunts.
My insides have turned against me.
Grief subdues me, burying me under the merciless weight of loss. “I will talk to his cousin.”
“But––”
I cut him off. “I will deal with the consequences.” I wave my hand toward the door. “Let me rest. Go back to work. You have stuff to do.”
“You’re my priority.”
“Sure. Then remember who you work for. I know it’s hard, but at least pretend it’s me.”
He rolls his eyes at me, the grimace putting a smile on my face, but not for long. Vian is never far from my thoughts. I close my eyes, wishing for sweet oblivion, anything to forget the pain threatening to splinter my mind and shatter my soul.
The house opens in front of me on a beautiful summer day. The sun casts a glow over the entire perimeter. Flowers bloom, the green of the trees appearing so rich, a mild gust of wind caressing my face.
I hear children’s squeals, and I round the house to see Vian playing with two boys, chasing them around in the backyard.
I come to a stop and lean against the wall, rejoicing in the image.
He’s the first to notice me. Knowing my husband, he sensed me long before I parked. A smirk sits at the corner of his mouth, revealing how attuned he is to me.
My firstborn notices me next, but it’s my youngest who runs to me and crashes straight into my open arms.
As I hold him, my chest overflows with so much love. I kiss his beautiful little face and place him down. He is his father’s mini-me.
“Mommy,” he says in his soft voice that warms my heart.
“Baby,” my oldest says when I pin him with a serious stare. “What? He is.”
“Don’t talk like that about your brother,” my husband chastises him.
They’re not even two years apart, but they couldn’t be more different.
My oldest comes next for a quick hug, looking like the perfect combination of his father and me. He kisses me on the cheek and goes back to throwing one knife after another, right into the bull’s-eye.
“I want to be as good as you.” My youngest takes off, following his brother’s lead. He adores his older brother. I hope it’s just a phase because my oldest looks at him like he’s a pesky little thing, yet he still shows patience as he instructs him.
My husband wraps his arms around me and places his chin on my shoulder. “Wife.”
“Husband,” I sigh dreamily, feeling a serenity beyond this world. I don’t want to leave this magical place.
I try to hold on to the dream, but it slips away as sunrays poke at my eyelids, forcing me to open them to face the brutal truth. It’s morning.. How long have I slept? Disoriented, I look around, noticing my IV is gone.
Conrad and the doctor walk inside, wearing somber expressions, causing instant unease.
Stretching out my arm, I raise my palm in a sign to stop. I don’t care about anything except saying goodbye to my husband.
Everything else is irrelevant, and afterward I’ll go back to sleep, chasing that dream. Reality always demanded something from me, but I am empty now.
The doctor clears his throat. “You’re pregnant.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I can’t be. It’s a mistake. Leave.”
“Ma’am, please be reasonable.”
“Get out before I show you how unreasonable I can get.”
I am not pregnant. I can’t be. This was never supposed to happen.
It was not supposed to... Not like this.
Rolling out of bed, I collapse on my knees and sob between my palms. “You fucking did it, you asshole.”