chapter 33
Matleon
“When are you going to leave for Pa’s house?” I ask Wen at the dinner table.
She slides the spoon out of her mouth, watching me. “Don’t know. But not now.”
“Why? You were only here for your concert, which was three days ago.”
She nods. “But I still want to stay here.” I raise my brows. She sighs. “Okay… I’m staying because I’m afraid to leave you alone in this state.”
“I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not fine. Not even close.
When I check on you before going to sleep, I find you in your study.
When I check on you around 2 a.m., I still find you in your study.
When I wake up at 6 a.m., I find you downstairs.
I don’t know when you are sleeping. Then you leave for the office at 7 a.m. and come back at 9 p.m., you’re working more than machines.
And I wouldn’t have a problem with it if I didn’t know about Karōshi.
And besides that, you’ve lost your arrogant, cocky side completely.
Now you look like a lost puppy, and I’m soft-hearted when it comes to animals. ”
“Whatever. Stay here for as long as you want.” I get up and leave the dining room.
I resume working once I settle into my chair in my study.
Work keeps my head busy, and that’s the only solution to not think about the useless thing people call a heart.
How good it would have been if I had never known about it.
How good it would have been if I hadn’t attended that party seven years ago and had never met that twelve-year-old girl.
But then, how would I have experienced the precious gift of her shy smiles for four years? And then, after another four years, kissing her sweet lips, sleeping with so much peace and fulfillment while holding her to my chest?
What I got was worth everything. It was worth it even when everything was taken away and I’m left feeling this hollowness, as if life itself has been ripped out of me.
It was worth it.
My study door opens, and Zo enters. He comes inside and sits on the chair in front of me.
“Vince was saying you’re making everyone work from seven to nine.” Vince is my chief secretary.
“I didn’t ask them to do overtime. It’s their fault they don’t have reports from the past five years of every one of my businesses.”
“Give them time,” he says, “and give yourself time as well. You need rest.”
“I’m not able to.”
He gets up from the chair and walks around the table. I watch him with a frown. “What?”
He takes out a syringe. “You need rest.”
I get up and lunge at him to snatch the injection from his hand. He moves his hand up rapidly. I hold back mid-attack when I remember he’s still recovering, and he takes the leverage, plunging the injection into my bicep.
I push his hand away along with the injection, but the contents are already inside my body.
“What was that?” I grit out.
“Sedative,” he says calmly. “It’s very mild, but it’ll help you relax.”
“I didn’t need it.”
“You did. And now, if you don’t want me to carry you to your room, walk yourself. You only have time to change and lie down.”
“I’ll beat your ass tomorrow,” I spit, heading for the door. I can already feel it taking effect in my body, heavy, slow, creeping through my veins.
I reach my room, and by the time I remove my clothes, dizziness washes over me. I fall onto the bed in nothing but my underwear and close my eyes.
I need to call her.
I call her only once a day—at three a.m. every night, just before she goes to bed. I don’t know if I’m allowed to call her at other times or not. What if she gets irritated and stops answering that one call as well?
My thoughts start falling apart. Memories of her come in fragments, like pictures on a broken television, flickering, disjointed, painfully vivid.
The twelve-year-old girl. She’s smiling. “I’m Iselyn Mikhailov. Don’t forget my name.”
The thirteen-year-old girl, wearing a red dress at the New Year’s party. “Eat ptichye moloko. It’s my favorite. You’ll love it.”
The fourteen-year-old girl, sitting beside me at a wedding. “I don’t like diamonds. I don’t understand what people like so much about them. It’s just glass with fancy physics.”
The fifteen-year-old girl, in a video message, pouting slightly. “I drank a lot of cinnamon tea, and look, I have pimples now. You should’ve told me how much one is allowed to drink.”
And then there were no more shy smiles. She had become a woman from that sunshine girl. I had my own sun, but I made it lose its shine. I made it cold, like the moon. And now… I don’t even have that moon.
A tear rolls down from the corner of my eye.
Iselyn
My phone rings in the back pocket of my work pants. I remove my gloves and pull it out. Wen is calling.
I pick it up. “Hello?”
“Hey,” she sounds off.
“What happened?”
“Leo… I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to push you into making any decision. But now the water has gone above the head.”
I frown and sit on the bench in the garden where I was working. “What is it about?”
“He’s neither sleeping nor eating properly. I don’t know when he even sleeps. Till 2–3 a.m., he works in his study, then gets up before 6 and leaves for the office at 7.”
My frown deepens. My lungs tighten, and I take conscious deep breaths. “It’s very harmful for his health.”
“I know. And I talked with him, but he just brushes me off and goes to his study. I swear, Lyn, I’m very afraid. He looks so exhausted.”
“I… I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay,” she sighs.
I cut the call and immediately dial Matleon’s number. He doesn’t pick. I call again—no answer. My gut clenches on the third call. My hands turn sweaty and cold. He doesn’t pick the fourth call either.
I call back Wen with shaky hands. Bad thoughts fill my mind, pressing my heart lower in panic. “He’s not picking up my calls.”
“Wait, let me check,” she says urgently.
I tap my feet on the ground repeatedly.
“He’s not in his study,” she sounds worried. My fear fuels her worry.
“He’s here… in his room… collapsed on the bed.”
“Leo. Leo.” Her voice breaks, distinct and sharp. “Wake up, Leo!”
She brings the phone close to her face, her voice clear and trembling with panic. “He’s unconscious.”
The phone almost slips from my shaking hands. My voice is lost in the void.
“Let me call Zo—” She cuts the call.
I lower the phone and stare at it, my head feeling light. My whole body is trembling. Something has happened to him.
Tears roll down onto the phone.
It rings again. I wipe the screen on my pants and pick up Wen’s call.
“Zo gave him a sedative,” she mutters.
I don’t reply. My voice is still frozen.
She speaks after a long pause. “His… his face was… wet with tears. Is it… impossible to forgive him?”
“No,” I breathe. It’s impossible not to forgive him.
“I don’t want to force you into doing anything, Lyn,” she starts crying. “But I can’t see him like this.”
My tears start falling again. My phone vibrates with another incoming call. I pull it away from my cheek and see Zo’s name.
I wipe my face and press the phone back to my ear. “I’ll call you later. Zo’s calling.”
She hums, still crying.
I pick up Zo’s call.
“Hello, Lyn.”
“Hello.”
“How are you?” he asks in his calm voice.
“I don’t know,” I say, looking up at the sky. I don’t know how I am. I talk to him for only a few minutes once a day, yet he stays in my brain the entire time. My aim was to give myself time, space, and peace after I talked to my dad that night. There is time. There is space. But there is no peace.
“He needs you. I would have never called you to say this, but this is urgent. Come back. Whatever you ask me to give you, I will give you. Even if it’s torturing Leo, I’ll do that for you. If you want him to suffer, I will arrange that for you. But not like this, this is breaking him apart.”
I open my mouth to speak, but my phone is snatched from my hand.
Papa sees the name on the screen and presses the phone to his ear.
He listens to whatever Zo is saying, then speaks.
“No. She won’t come back until he earns her forgiveness.
I would not have let this marriage happen if I had known he would send my daughter back home in such a heartbroken state.
What kind of man is he if he couldn’t earn it within one month?
I am seriously regretting my decision to let him marry her. ”
He listens to Zo for a moment, then scoffs. “I don’t care about any of this. If he wants my daughter back, he has to prove to me that he is worthy of her. Even if she forgives him now, I won’t send her back until I forgive the man who has given her nothing but tears.”
He cuts the call and hands me back my phone, his jaw tight, his expression hard. “One more time I see you crying because of this son of Alessio, I’ll kill him.”