Crisis Of War

{ LXII }

'Her body was found in a field near John's house so the police instantly went there to interrogate him and his family.' 

I look at the back of the couch, wondering why the tv is still on if no one's watching. 

'Goodmorning?' Isabelle's head pops up as she looks over at me, making me smile at the way she's wrapped in a bunch of blankets. 'Morning? What do you- What time is it?' 

'Something around ten in the morning.'

Her eyes widen as she stops whatever it was she's watching. 'Tell me you're lying.' 

'Don't tell me you stayed up all night?' She kicks off all the blankets and jumps to her feet. 'Is it really ten in the morning?' 

I nod and walk through the living room, looking at all the empty pizza boxes around the room. 

'It is, but did you really stay up all night to watch murder investigations?'

She nods and stretches as she throws all the blankets back on the couch. 

'So you won't be coming to the meeting later?' I ask as I follow her through the living room. 'Was that today?' 

'It is, we have to leave tomorrow.' She mutters something as she redoes her hair in a bun and looks at me with a sorry smile. 'It's okay, I'll just take Veah.' 

'If she comes out of her room today.' She jokes with a slight hint of wonder in her voice. 'She came out of her room last night.'

'Because we forced her to.' I roll my eyes and walk over to the table filled with the trash we left last night. 'She's just... Worried.' 

It's an understatement for what she's feeling, but it's the first word that came to my mind. 

'Aren't we all though?' She asks as she quickly grabs some of the empty bottles we left on the floor. 'Yes but it's different. We don't even know where Leon is and she thinks he's dead.' 

'Have you heard anything yet?' Her voice has a slight hint of concern and I can't help but smile at it. 

She has been asking a lot of questions about Marco, but she's too stubborn to admit that she likes him. 

And I honestly wish I could tell her more about their progress, but I don't know if there is any progress yet. 

'Nothing.' She huffs and throws all the bottles in the trash. 'It has been years without any news from them!' 

I can't help but smile at her overdramatic tone. 'It hasn't been years, Isabelle-' 'Three weeks feels like years.' 

I shake my head and throw away the empty pizza boxes. 'It has been thirteen days.' 

Thirteen long days without Rio. 

Without Rafael Adriano Curzio. 

My husband.