[COMPLETED]
♦️ A story about love, born from revenge ♦️
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
She, as a free spirit had an immense passion for life, and due to her desire to live it as wholly as possible, she needed as much freedom as she...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I stared at the door, mesmerized. Every now and then it opened and closed, letting people in and out. Each time it opened, I wished the person looked for me to tell me good news.
Despite the hot weather outside and the warmness inside the building and the blanket draped around my shoulders, I was cold. Bone-chillingly cold.
I was aware of voices around me, so many voices. But they were in the background, a distant buzz. I didn't hear the words.
All I could hear, all I could focus on, was the sound of opening and closing door.
My thoughts turned to the quiet place at the beach when we were watching the sunset. I'd like to talk to him again. I'd like to say something stupid that would make him laugh a bit. It was a nice sound, his laugh.
No doubt he would think of some way to remind me later, but still, his laugh was nice.
How long before he comes back to annoy me?
The door opened and closed again, holding me captive, keeping me numb.
"I actually fancy you from time to time when you're not yelling at me."
His words came back to me.
"You're my wife."
I wrapped my arms around myself and the world fell apart as the reality came running back to me, to my consciousness. The creepy emptiness inside me expanded some more.
Diego was shot.
"Mrs. Henderson." Some nurse gently coaxed me, her voice bringing me back to the hospital waiting room, into the now, into the anguish and torment.
Was it because of the place I was right now in? A place I feared the most? Or that he was being the one inside the surgery room, on that operation table, fighting for his life?
The nurse gave me a cup of something warm, perhaps some tea with drugs in it to lull me into sleep or something.
I took the cup gratefully, the spilling of tea betraying my shaking hands. Either way, I was not planning on drinking that.
"Thank you." I whispered, my voice hoarse from unshed tears and the large lump in my throat.
A police man was sitting across from me, holding in his hands a notebook or something similar to that. He gazed at me. Commiseration and anxiety in his face, waiting for the good news with me, or more like waiting for the time I was able to tell him everything I knew or saw.
Diego was inside for seven hours now. No sign, no word from any of the doctors that were working on him.
I refused to think the worst. I closed my eyes in silent prayer, rocking gently on that uncomfortable seat.
Please, let him annoy me a little more. Even if it shall be for the rest of my life, just don't take him away from his family.
Why would he risk his life for me? He saved my life back there. Why?
