Echoes Of The Heart

Chapter Twenty-seven

Stephlon's mood was pained and annoyed all day. Though she didn't say a word, her colleagues could sense something - or someone - had upset her. They tiptoed around her like they were walking on eggshells, careful not to provoke her further. Her steely gazes and curt responses were a clear warning sign that she was not to be notified with.

If Stephlon had a choice, she would have left the resort and gone home to be alone. Maltida would not be there, which would give Stephlon the solitude she craved. The anger and pain she felt was overwhelming, just like the emotions see had tried to escape four years ago. Nothing could soothe the agony she felt in that moment.

"Come here," Chef Damino said, beckoning Stephlon into the kitchen. He folded his arms across his chest as he looked at her. Stephlon stood awkwardly, shuffling from one foot to the other, her eyes darting around the room to avoid looking at him. She could feel her eyes beginning to well up as the silence grew heavier.

Stephlon bit her lip, her gaze fixed on the floor as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Her hands gripped the notepad tightly, her knuckles turning white. She blinked rapidly, her eyes growing blurry with tears. Her heart felt like it was breaking into tiny, irreparable pieces. She heard every crack and crumble as it shattered, the pain echoing through her body.

Stephlon's head dropped as she longed to close her eyes and rest, but she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, a burden she could not set down. The pain was searing through her body, a steady stream of tears running down her cheeks. She released the notepad from her grasp, letting it fall to her chest as her arms hugged her body close. She looked utterly alone, disconnected from the world around her.

Slowly, Chef Damino made his way towards Stephlon. He wrapped his arms around her as she buried her face in his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. Her body shook as the tears wracked her body, her heart feeling like it was being torn out of her chest. Her eyes burned from the tears, and her throat felt tight from trying to hold back the sobs. Chef Damino remained silent, simply holding her and letting her cry until she was spent. The only sound in the room was the sound of her sniffs and sniffles.

An hour passed, and Stephlon and Damino remained seated on the counter stool. He had said nothing to her, simply allowing her to sit and process her feelings. As for Stephlon, she sat silently, her thoughts swirling with a mix of emotions. She was tired, both physically and emotionally. She knew that if she left, Maltida would never forgive her, but staying was becoming increasingly difficult. The thought of walking away from everything was a tempting option, but it would come at a great cost.

Stephlon's gaze fell to her hands resting on the countertop, their nails polished with a soft, nude gel color. She glanced at the rings on her index and thumb fingers, the gold glittering in the bright kitchen light. She smiled softly to herself, her heart thoughts drifting away to far-off place. The silence around her was comforting, allowing her mind to wander and explore.

As Stephlon sat, she gathered her thoughts, her mind clearing as she readied herself to leave and go back to work. She smoother out her clothes and dabbed at her face with the handkerchief Damino had given to her. She knew she would have to go to the bathroom to fix her mascara-streaked eyes and blotchy face, but for now, she just wanted to compose herself. Without saying anything, she stood up and turned towards the door.

"You are not ready to talk child" Damino said, his voice gentle but firm. He could see the pain in her eyes, the hurt she was carrying. He didn't want to force her to share what was weighing on her heart, but he wanted her to know that he was there for her, ready to listen whenever she was ready to talk. His words were full of understanding and compassion, and Stephlon felt a rush of gratitude. She knew she could trust him, and that he would be there for her when she was ready to open up.

"Damino," Stephlon said, a faint smile play on her lips as she picked up her notepad from the counter. She stood in front of the pepper-and-salt-haired man, his bright black eyes studying her, pleading for her to be okay. His refined jawline gave him a strong a masculine air, but his eyes were gentle and kind. She lived this man, this friend who had always been there for her. Her sad eyes met his, and she knew he understood what she was going through. She took a step forward, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his cheeks.

Stephlon turned to leave the kitchen, her head bowed and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Gone was the confidence she normally exuded, replaced by a sorrowful demeanor. Her usually sweet and smiley face had turned blank, the youthful glow dimmed by the weight of her troubles. She had always been such a beacon of joy, and to see her like this was disheartening. The contrast between her usual cheerfulness and her current state was startling and heartbreaking.

With heavy steps, she walked into the bathroom, her eyes swollen and red from all the tears she had shed. Her body felt both heavy with sadness and light with exhaustion, a strange mix of sensations. She gazed into the mirror, and her reflection stared back at her. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes hollow, and her lips pressed into a thin line. In that moment, she looked like a shadow of her former self, a shadow of the happy, bubbly person she had once been.

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