The Billionaire's Fragile Bride

39. HAPPINESS IS NOT CRUELTY

Chapter dedication goes to Wang_Dasu and ankiee123 and Oluwafeyiteniola for always giving a well-detailed review on every chapter.

The night was young and cold. The water tides rippled in the pool, aggressively whacking Orla's exposed feet.

She shuddered, the chillness of the night causing goosebumps to sprinkle all over her skin.

Both of them were perched on the coping of the swimming pool in their mansion, eyes fixated on the moon that was densely setting in the sky that night.

The stars were beautifully lined up, making it a sensational sight for them to view. Orla dangled her feet in the cold water, head naturally resting on Callan's hard chest.

"I'm freezing, Callan." She murmured, audible enough for him to hear.

He drew her closer, draping the towel in his hand around her shoulders. The material veiled her skin coolly. After a long day, she had proposed that they spend time in the pool that night but never swimming. She wasn't certain she could, not after what had happened to her.

Callan protested against the idea, but she pleaded with him. She had never been to a poolside since that afternoon, thinking she'd be scared of water, but surprisingly, she wasn't. But it only refreshed the memory she was trying to bury.

"Can we go back now?" They had spent the thirty minutes she proposed that they should.

The stillness in the air was discomfiting and Callan didn't appreciate that. He loved it when she was vocal, when she talked to him. But not this overly quiet Orla. 

He speculated about what could be running through her mind as she smiled at the moon. Maybe some kindergarten poems about moons? Maybe skies? Or even stars.

"The pool was almost this size." She smiled, swaddling herself with the towel. "Mom and Dad had gone for Dinner. They promised to get us strawberry ice cream and croissants if we stayed in our best behaviours and didn't stress our sisters. We promised, Isla and I promised her to be of good behaviour." She let out sniffles. The sound of it attracted Callan's attention.

He gazed at her, intensely. Although it was getting dark, there was a halogen light bulb that brightened up the poolside and with the aid of that, Callan could glimpse the unshed tears that welled up in Orla's eyes.

Sighing, he reached for her hand and gave it a light squeeze. "You don't have to talk about it now. I will wait until you are ready." He smiled reassuringly.

Orla nodded her head. She loved that he was understanding and gentle with her, but she was ready to say a little about it to heave the weight off her chest, the weight she had carried around for years.

"You are so nice to me. I hope this lasts." She ran her fingers on Callan's palm that was on the coping.

"Orla…"

The words stuck in his mouth. He understood her fear.

"She warned us not to go close to the poolside and we agreed, but changed our mind a few hours later. If only we didn't, if only Sophia hadn't left to get us juice. Maybe we wouldn't have changed our mind and maybe Isla would still be alive now and…" Weighty pleats of tears dropped down her face, large and uncontrollable. "I have not known peace since she died. Sometimes, I feel like I shouldn't be here—I should have died with her, I should have followed after she left, I—"