Chapter 44 44. Time Does Not Heal Wounds!
Saintilia’s POV
I burst into Adeline’s yard, my heart hammering against my ribs. I stumbled over my words, my voice trembling so violently I could barely speak, the sounds coming out as garbled, terrified noises.
"Saintilia? Child, what is it?" Adeline asked, rushing over to me as I leaned against her for support. "You look as though you have seen a ghost."
"It is Jonas," I finally managed to choke out, my breath coming in short sobs. "He won’t wake up. Please, you have to come."
She saw the raw terror etched onto my face and the way my eyes were wide and unseeing. She didn't ask any further questions. She grabbed her shawl and followed me back without a word, her presence a silent relief in my storm of confusion.
As we entered the house and the dim light fell upon Jonas’s form, Adeline’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
"Oh, dear God," she whispered, her voice cracking as she stepped closer. "Is he...?"
Her eyes widened with dreadful understanding, filling with a sorrow that mirrored my own. "I tried everything," I whispered brokenly to her. "I called and called, but he did not move."
In that moment, seeing the shock on her face, the truth slammed into me with the force of a tidal wave. It was no longer a nightmare I could wake up from; it was the stark, unyielding reality. Jonas was gone. Forever.
The weight of that finality crashed my spirit, leaving us to grapple with a silence more profound than any we had ever known. The house felt empty, a shell that had lost its soul..
End of Memory……...
My visit to the grave was short, the cold dampness seeping into my bones and urging me away. So much had happened since Jonas passed, and life, with its cruel indifference, relentlessly marched forward whether I was ready or not. The world did not stop for my grief. Lost in these heavy thoughts, I drifted near the river on my way back; and I needed the distraction of the moving water to quiet my mind. The air was cooling down, the shadows lengthening as the sun dipped lower, painting the sky grey.
Suddenly, a voice, familiar and clear, cut through my reverie like a knife. A cold shiver of recognition traced its way down my spine, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. He was becoming an insufferable presence, a shadow I could not shake no matter how well I hid. Wherever I went, he always invaded my solitude, This was beyond coincidence; it felt like a game he was playing with my nerves.
But I was stubborn and I wouldn’t yield or gave him the satisfaction of seeing me cower. This certainty that he would never stop hounding me made me on edge. I was on my own. Emilio's approach was confusing and inconsistent, adding to my frustration. He barely paid me any attention during his visits to the house, so why was he like this? Tina's counsel in this volatile situation, but that option was no longer viable. Lately, it felt as if we stood on opposite sides of a widening rift, separated by secrets that we couldn't share. I was almost sure she had developed feelings for Emilio, a truth I saw in the unguarded moments when her eyes lingered on him a second too long, a softness appearing in her gaze that terrified me.
"I'm sorry, I am in no mood to talk right now."
"I know you’re ignoring me," he said, stepping into my path, his tone annoyingly calm. "Every time I come to your house, you vanish or look straight through me as if I don't exist. But it won’t matter. Sooner or later, you will be my wife."
"Only if you kill me first," I shot back, the words leaving my lips before I could check them. I doubled my pace, desperate for distance, my heart beating a furious rhythm. I had no interest in arguing with a man who saw me as property, but I was powerless to stop his words from chasing me.
"Would you believe me if I said I was the one who found you that night?" His words stopped me dead in my tracks. "That I was the one who carried you home?"
The sound of them seemed to freeze the very air around us, halting the wind and the rustling leaves. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, deafening rhythm that drowned out the sound of the river flowing nearby. In that instant, something inside me fractured violently, a protective mechanism giving way under unbearable pressure. The night he was referencing to was the night I was raped. Though a dark void in my memory, a place of terror and pain I had tried to lock away. A pain more potent than adrenaline surged through my veins, consuming all rational thought.
I spun around, my self-control shattering into a thousand pieces, and launched at him. I didn't think; I only reacted, my hands immediately clawing at the rough fabric of his collar, gripping it with a strength born of pure rage. The intense need to connect this horror to his face, to make him pay for the violation that had ruined me, was all that mattered.
"You raped me, didn’t you?" The accusation tore from my throat, raw and guttural, a wounded animal’s scream.
Emilio looked genuinely stunned, his eyes widening in shock. It took him a second to recover, his hands coming up to grip my wrists, not to hurt me, but to restrain me. He pried my fingers from his shirt with a firm, deliberate motion. "No, Saintilia," he said, his voice low and intense. "I found you. And if you ever put your hands on me like that again, you will regret it."
"Then why did you leave me outside?" I cried, my voice shaking with the force of my confusion. "Why not tell Tina? Why not get help?"
"What do you think would have gone through her mind, seeing me carrying your lifeless body through the dark?" he asked, his gaze piercing mine. "She would have thought the worst. I protected your reputation, even if you don't have the sense to see it."
"That’s no excuse!" Yet, even as I spat the words, a treacherous part of me believed him. He was right. Had he announced himself, anything he said would have been misconstrued, the whispers would have started immediately. Leaving me in the courtyard was, perhaps, the only logical choice to avoid a scandal. He couldn't have known she wouldn't come looking for me. The logic was sound, infuriatingly so. But I would never apologize. I would not give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. I fixed him with a cold, final stare, then turned and walked away, my chin held high despite the trembling in my limbs.
"You will be mine, Saintilia," he called after me. "Why can’t you just accept it?"
Continue……….