Chapter 86

GIULIA

He didn't react. Gaping at me for a few seconds, he burst into laughter. "God, Lia. Who knew you could tell such dark jokes with an expressionless face? I almost believed you, you know?" His gaze was searching, despite his mirth, like he was seeking something, a smile from me, words that concurred with him, but I remained motionless and silent.

Instead, tears rolled down my cheeks like a dripping faucet. It started with a drop before it escalated to more. And that was when Kenzo realized I wasn't playing about it. Who does that??? Even if I wanted to joke, it wouldn't be that expensive.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, wrapping his right arm around me, consoling me as he said words he knew would make me stop sobbing. It didn't work. Ever since I woke up in the hospital bed and cried when I heard the doctor's pronouncement, I had ceased crying, thinking I was strong. I thought I had forgotten about it, and wouldn't be affected by the reminder, but it wasn't so.

We remained there for what felt like hours until the sky opened up, to let down the rain. Yet none of us rose from the bench. Kenzo was patient with me, knowing I needed a shoulder to cry on. He didn't ask why happened. He just sat there patiently with me, consoling me as I let down everything, crying to my heart's content.

We only left when I started shivering from how drenched my clothes were. He led me by the hand back to the house and up the stairs, and left me by the door, promising to return to check on me.

I had just taken another bath, changed my outfit and laid on the bed when he knocked on the door, to announce his presence and walked in with a steaming hot bowl. "I made something good for you."

"Please tell me that's not porridge?" I pleaded, reminded of the time I spent eating that at the hospital. I swear, the mere mention of the name gave me chills each time.

"Nah, I prepared chicken soup for you." Grinning, he walked over to my bed and passed it over to me. "It will help you relax," he added, still smiling.

"Thanks."

I made quick work of the soup before I passed the empty bowl to him, appreciating his kind gesture when he presented a bottle of water to me.

"It's no problem."

He sat on my bed with me, saying nothing. He fixed his brown eyes on my face, taking everything in, not missing a detail. I had to avert my gaze when his stare became too much.

"What do you wish to know?" I asked after some minutes, perceiving it was what he needed to hear. Knowing Kenzo, he was probably thinking of how to pose the question without poking at my wounds.

Exhaling, he laced his fingers together, staring down hard at them.

"I don't want to poke at your wounds."

"It's alright. You can ask anything you need to know. I'm good now. I promise I won't cry." Even if I wished to do that, I doubt I could shed a tear. My eyes were already puffy, and I seemed to have shed all the tears my eyes had produced for the year.

He looked to be in an internal struggle, his brows knitted as he prepared himself for what he was about to ask. It was taking much from him to calm his nerves before bringing the topic up.

The silence stretched. The only sound heard was the deafening thumping of my heart on my chest, as I waited for his question.

"Who did it?" He tried to keep his tone neutral, devoid of any feeling, even though he looked like he was just moments from storming out of my room, to demand the head of that damned bitch, Edith.

"She's dead." My response was flat.

"Dead?" He glanced up at that, a puzzled frown contorting his features as he demanded, "How the fuck did she do? Don't tell me he shot her?"

He made it sound like being shot was a reprieve, almost the same as forgiving her and letting her walk free after what she did.

"No, Mark made certain she had a painful demise. He incinerated her."

Speaking of it reminded me of the ugly cries from Edith as she was burnt alive, and the pleas that came from her lips when she realized she wasn't leaving that place alive.

A maniacal smile appeared on Kenzo's face at my response. "Now, that's why I like Mark. Though I wouldn't have given her such a merciful death. He knew not to just shoot her on the forehead."

Icy dread broke out on my face at his expression. I wondered what he would have done had he been in Mark's shoes. His words and the psycho look on his face made me realize it wouldn't be as simple as Mark made it. He would have complicated it. Bloody even.

Heaving a sigh, I leaned on the headboard. "It's okay. She's no more."

"No, it's not." He shook his head. "It's not fucking okay!" He got up from the bed, only to sit back when he saw my expression. "I'm sorry." He reached for me, hugging me as he patted my back. "I was carried away. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"No, it is." He broke from the hug and placed his hands on my shoulders, so he could stare into my eyes, his conveying his annoyance, concern, and guilt. "Had I not helped you escape to Seattle, you wouldn't have met the misfortune."

"Don't forget, I asked for it." This time, I was the one wiping the tears from his face. "Everything happens for a reason, Ken. Let's forget the past. Now, we have a future to look forward to."

"Yeah." Nodding, he grinned, shedding the pissed expression on his face, even though the rage in his eyes only abated a little. "You can make more babies with Mark."

"Yeah." Nodding, I forced a smile. There was no need to tell him about the womb part. What he doesn't know won't hurt him.