17
The next morning, I am staring idly at the clouds outside the window when the butler suddenly knocks on my door and says there is a visitor at the old mansion.
"Who is it?" I ask softly.
"Mrs. Ali—" The butler hesitates, "You'll know when you go downstairs."
The temperature is still a bit low in the moring, so I wrap a shawl around myself and follow the butler out.
There is a red figure in the hall.
I recognize the figure and suddenly understand it. The butler can't handle this woman, so he has left her to me.
I walk up to Luna, "Mateo is not here."
Luna takes off her sunglasses.
She looks almost like a different person compared to the last time I saw her.
I don't mean she had plastic surgery or any facial changes; her cheeks are sunken, her eyes are bloodshot, and she has an astonishing look of weakness and exhaustion, like a flower that was in full bloom on the branch but got battered and lashed by a torrential rain overnight.
"I'm here for you," Luna replies.
There is actually nothing for Luna and me to talk about. One is a woman once abandoned and later reclaimed by Mateo; the other is just the opposite, initially flourishing but now completely withered.
The only connection between us is a man.
The crystal chandelier in the hall is wiped clean by the servants, and similar crystal-clear tears start to well up in Luna's eyes.
I watch her calmly for a while, finally defeated by her tears.
"Come with me," I sigh softly.
In my bedroom.
"Do you want something to drink?" I ask as I move a chair for Luna.
"Some water, please." She pauses, "I just had a miscarriage, I can't drink coffee."
"Oh, okay." I open a bottle of mineral water and hand it to her, "I'm very sorry."
She looks up at me, a bit surprised, then gives a sarcastic smile, "What are you sorry for? You're no longer threatened by me now."
I'm taken aback.
There is hatred and despair in Luna's eyes, but all her emotions ultimately turn into endless disappointment. She lowers her eyes, "He won't take my calls and has blocked me. He doesn't want me anymore."
The scene is strangely bizarre.
The mistress, dumped by the man, comes to the man's wife to complain and seek comfort.
But human emotions are complex and fluid.
When I first saw Luna, I felt lost, envious; why wasn't I her, why doesn't my husband love me.
Now, I feel a lot of sympathy for her.
In the eyes of the outside world, Mateo is an extraordinarily intelligent, energetic business elite who has made the Daniels Group flourish; and such outstanding people are always inevitably self-centered.
Everyone has to revolve around him. When he's in a good mood, he might give you a candy; when he's in a bad mood, he might give you a slap.
He never lowers his head to ask for your opinion, nor does he ever say sorry.
All good and bad emotions are Mateo's gifts and punishments, and you don't have the right to say no.
So I comfort Luna, "Maybe it's time to start a new life."
I look at Luna's haggard but still undeniably beautiful face, "You're still young, and you have some money. There are many possibilities in the future."
Luna covers her eyes with her hand.
"I was born in a poor village. I came to London knowing nothing, with nothing but a pretty face."
"I signed with an unreliable modeling agency, and they made me accompany rich men for drinks."
"But I was lucky to meet Mateo. He spent a lot of money to get me out of the contract, he gave me a home in London."
"He said I was the one he loved most, he only wanted me, he only wanted to be with me."
I open my mouth, hesitate for a few seconds, then close it.
I want to say that money is indeed very important, and most of the time it is proof that a man loves a woman.
But this is not the case in the Daniels family.
Even if the men of the Daniels family did nothing and lay in bed counting interest from dawn to dusk every day, they wouldn't finish counting it in a lifetime.
So in some ways, Mateo spending money to get Luna out of the contract is no different from Lincoln spending money to get my mother into a nursing home.
Moreover, when Mateo and I went to Las Vegas for a wedding, he brought another woman into our room on the spot.
"Love" might just be a sexual word for the Daniels brothers. They're the same.
Luna covers her face with her hands, her sobs escaping through her fingers. "I just don't understand, he loved me so much, why would he be angry when I got pregnant?"
"It's not that he doesn't want you to have his child," I lean in and gently pat her shoulder, "he just doesn't like the timing."
So far, the biggest setback in Mateo's life has been his younger brother, which has given him a deep-seated hostility towards any illegitimate children.
How deep is this hostility?
I remember hearing a story from when I still lived in Lincoln's house.
When Lincoln's mother got pregnant, she was brought back to the old mansion by his father.
At that time, Mateo was only seven years old and he acted extremely polite, warmly welcoming the new mistress of the house.
They lived peacefully for several months until one morning, just before Lincoln's mother was due to give birth, Mateo pushed her down the stairs. Lincoln was born two months premature.
Lincoln once told me this story as a joke, saying his tenacity was like that of a cockroach.
Damn it. I think of him again inexplicably.
Luna suddenly stands up and walks toward me. "Mateo forced me to have a medical abortion, it failed. "
"I hemorrhaged and had two curettages. "
"The doctor said I'll never be able to get pregnant again. "
"Now I have nothing. You must be pleased, right?"
As she speaks, her expression suddenly turns ferocious.
I swallow and instinctively take a half step back. "What are you going to do?"
"You'll see." She stops and reaches into her coat pocket.
I see a gun. Luna points it at me.
"I know you must be very sad right now, but Luna, please stay calm." I raise my hands to the sides of my head.
She glares at me, almost burning holes in my face.
"Calm down, Luna." I repeat.
She steps closer, the cold barrel now pressed firmly against my forehead.
I tremble slightly and slowly back away.
Luna advances, still holding the gun.
My back hits the cold wall, my shawl falls to the ground.
The morning wind is chilly, the bedroom window isn't closed tightly, the wind shakes the trees outside and makes the curtains inside flutter.
"I suddenly have a good idea," Luna glances at the window and grabs me.
Now there's a cold bullet in front of me, and the morning sky behind me.
Luna tightens her grip on the gun, making me lean backward, hanging in the air.
"It's not very high here. If you jump, you won't die; you'll just end up crippled like me." Luna's face twists into a strange smile. "So, do you wanna try?"
I swallow, trying to reason with her, "It wasn't me who forced you to abort, it was Mateo. You should be looking for him."
"But he made me abort because of you. It's all your fault." Luna's finger starts to move the trigger.
Noise suddenly erupts from downstairs. I grip the window sill and glance down. The servants have gathered below.
"Are you going to jump or not?" Luna asks.
I swallow again and look down again. This is the backyard, leading to the forested land below.
"You're out of time," Luna narrows her eyes and begins to count down coldly.
"Three—two—"
I fall back.
I think I'm really going to die this time.
As the wind rushes into my collar and sleeves, engulfing my body, everything around me distorts.
Countless birds surround me, and "Requiem" sounds in my ears.
I see myself at eight years old, dressed in a black dress, holding white roses at my father's funeral.
I ask my mother where my father has gone.
She says he's now sleeping in that long box and will watch over us from the sky.
I turn to look at the sky. Birds are circling, and I ask my mother if I could fly, would I see dad.
She shakes her head gently, saying humans don't have wings, we don't fly, we only fall.
Now I am falling.
Someone seems to be calling my name, shouting desperately. Servants are screaming.
Luna is still at the window, her red coat strikingly visible.
I close my eyes, thinking this is what it feels like to be weightless.
"Ali!"
In the chaotic universe, a clear voice cuts through.
Strong arms catch me, and then we fall, rolling together down the slope into the forest.
"Don't be afraid, Ali." I hear Lincoln's voice.
Birds scatter from the forest, startled. There are not just trees but also shrubs.
Lincoln holds me protectively. I dimly perceive we are heading towards a thick branch that's directly aimed at his eyes.
I reach out and cover his eyes.