The Billionaire's Fragile Bride

29. TRIGGERED

Some days later.

It still felt like a dream when the Vet told Orla that Betty had suffered from Feline Cardiomyopathy, the sudden collapse was due to exhaustion. The illness had gotten to its last stage and it was incurable.

Orla protested, she had treated Betty a few months ago and nothing about the illness was said to her. It suddenly happened and was too late to stop. 

Betty couldn't make it, she died without a proper goodbye to her best friend.

Orla's whole world crumbled when the news of Betty's death was delivered to her. She didn't believe it was true. It'd been two days, and she still didn't want to believe that Betty was gone for real. She was gone, leaving her alone in the cold world, there was no best friend anymore, and there was no Betty anymore.

There was nothing to make her happy anymore, there was no one she could vent to anymore, no one she could cuddle up with, rant to, kiss, and play with. Even though Betty couldn't talk back when she ranted, she was relieved whenever she talked to her about issues bothering her and she didn't know how she was going to live without that.

She was a mess as she curled up in the centre of the bedroom, staring at all the pictures she'd taken with Betty over the years. They had been inseparable, she'd been her only hope in life, the reason she stayed alive and strived not to put an end to the uneasy life she was living.

"Betty!" She yelled in agony, hot tears cascading down her cheeks. She wanted her best friend back. She wanted Betty back. She wouldn't survive without her, she would lose it without her. She didn't know where to start without Betty.

Callan walked into the living room, examining how hushed the place was. Betty would have rushed out to welcome him if she were still alive. Even when he was gone for a week, Betty still recognized him whenever he came back home and she would wiggle her tail at his feet, ushering him into the house.

He was accustomed to that gesture, and he looked forward to it every day, but today was different. There was no Betty to welcome him back home, the house bleakly empty and everything was… Dry. He sighed, knowing Orla was probably mad at him for being away for three days without letting her know and she must have hindered Betty from coming to welcome him into the house.

A call came that night that he had to be in Dublin for an important conference the next morning. Unbeknownst to Orla, he travelled down with Rosa. He still didn't feel the need to tell her about his movements.

He was welcomed into the bedroom with the strident sound of Orla's wails. She was sprawled out on the tiles, legs folded against each other. Her phone was on her chest as she bemoaned her dead cat.

He walked closer to his closet, totally avoiding Orla but the sound of her sobs got louder, arching his ears. He turned back to her and sighed. "What's with the tears?" He asked, taking off his suit jacket.

Orla remained on that spot, clutching her phone to her chest and wailing. Callan's voice was low and only the sound of her wails was heard in the room.

With guilt wearing him down, he walked towards her and towered in front of her. He couldn't look at her after what happened that night, he wondered if she was still crying because of that night. It'd been three days and she should have gotten over it by now, especially when she hadn't seen him since that night.

"Orla?" He called, her name sounding firm in his mouth. She stopped wailing and looked up at him. He had seen her sad, but not that dejected. Her eyes were so red, tears poured down in uncontrollable folds. He wanted to hold her, wrap her in his arms and comfort her but he held himself back. She was probably still mad at him for leaving her that night. "Why are you crying so much?"