Under My Skin

13 | where is he

Chapter Thirteen:

Ria chewed away at her bottom lip as she debated whether she'd done the right thing.

She wanted answers – no, screw that, she needed answers, and the police had failed to provide those answers. She was stealthily losing hope as it had encroached three years since Rayhan's death. Using Rocco's guilt to her advantage was the right thing to do. Or so, she convinced herself it was.

She'd barely been able to hide how ecstatic she had been when he had agreed. He'd try, he'd said. No promises, he'd said. Cold cases were not his forte. But he'd try, and that was all Ria needed to hear.

She had considered calling Reid on her way home to tell him that there was a slight glimmer of hope. But she decided against it as she recalled the times he'd told her to just let it go. The police hadn't found the culprit within the first year, so he'd say it was futile to keep trying. That the criminal responsible for the hit-and-run would meet their demise in the afterlife. Reid wasn't a particularly forgiving or religious person, so those statements had caught Ria off-guard.

He'd been content to move on without answers, but that wasn't good enough for Ria. Perhaps, it was why she had become borderline obsessed with making it in the law field.

She was lying on her lounge sofa, peeking up at the photograph of her father sitting large on the wall. And deliberately trying to avert her eyes from the dining table in front of it that she and Blaine had chosen to get frisky on only a couple days prior.

She felt vibrations from beneath her and saw the photo of Reid flashing across her phone screen. She almost felt as though she'd manifested the call herself. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey Ri, you good?" Reid bellowed; the pixels on the screen took a second too long to focus, leaving his face distorted. "We were just finishing packing some final bits and bobs. Did you want anything? I already got you the Balinese coffee and some ceramic souvenirs."

"All good. You didn't have to get me anything at all, Reid." She replied with a soft grin painted across her face.

She could hear the familiar dainty cackling in the background and immediately recognised the ash blonde hair falling into the frame, more silver in colour than blonde. "You could've said that before, Ria. Reid's only gone and added another twenty-five kilograms to the luggage so we could bring you and the others souvenirs back. I tried to tell him that we're not made of money," The blonde girl drawled on.

"It's okay, Lydia. It's only a few extra things," Reid reiterated. "Plus, I only added the extra weight because of the extra clothes you decided to buy. Most of which you didn't need." He added, his eyes fixed on his fiancé as he said the last words.

Reid had developed the patience of a saint - at least in the six and a half months he'd been with Lydia, he had. Ria reminisced a time when he was with Indiya. He'd been the more hot-headed one in the relationship, and Indiya had spent a lot of time calming him down, especially in the latter half of their relationship. It was funny how the tables had turned - Reid was now the better half of the relationship.

Lydia waved her pale hand in annoyance at Reid, "Ria, I saw you'd seen my message on Whatsapp. What did you think of the bridesmaid's dresses I've chosen?"

Ria had indeed seen the dresses.

The blush, almost champagne-coloured maxi-length dresses that would almost certainly be too lengthy on Ria's five-foot-three (and a half) frame. They weren't hideous per se; it was more the fact that the dresses were a walking contradiction. What with the velvet material that Ria was sure had been chosen because the fabric clung to cellulite in the most unflattering way combined with the clean-straight cut of the dress, rendering it an unshapely mess.