Chapter 281 150
Chapter 281 150
THE days after were the slow kind. Amelia was in her office when Ryan knocked and leaned against the doorframe the way he always did when he was about to say something she didn’t want to hear.
“You need to take the week off,” he said worriedly, his brows drawing together.
She didn’t look up from the file she was reviewing. “I’m fine, Ryan. I've already told you that.”
“That’s what you always say.” Ryan pointed out.
“Because it’s always true.”
Ryan came in and sat down across from her. He didn’t say anything else. He just sat there with his arms crossed, watching her with the careful attention of someone who had known her long enough to know exactly how stubborn she could be.
She made it three more minutes before she looked up. “What do you want? Why are you still here, Ryan? I'm trying to work!”
“Work? You haven't been productive ever since you came to work, and you know it. I'm sorry, I know I may be pushing my boundaries right now, but you need to take some time off from work so you can grieve properly."
She stared hard at him, and Ryan didn't budge. He made sure to keep eye contact to pass his message across.
“Friday,” she said finally. “I will take Friday.”
“Monday, too.”
“Ryan—”
“Monday, too,” he repeated. “I already cleared it with the partners.”
She wanted to argue. She could feel the argument forming in her chest, the same instinct that had carried her through the past eight days— keep moving, keep working, keep everything in front of you so nothing has to settle. But she was tired. She was so tired.
“Friday and Monday,” she said.
“That’s what I said.”
He stood up and left, leaving her to pack her things up and leave too.
On the sixth day, Gaddiel found her in the living room while she was folding laundry. He stood in the doorway for a moment, which was how she knew he was working up to something.
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Was Ifeanyi scared?”
She stopped folding. She thought about it— really thought about it. She could have said something comforting. Something that would make it easier for him to sleep tonight. But he had asked her directly, and she had promised herself she would answer directly when they asked.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think he just acted. He didn’t have time to be scared.”
Gaddiel considered this. His brow furrowed in that serious way he had, the one that made him look so much like his father.
“That is brave,” he told his mother.
“It was.”
He nodded once, satisfied, and went back to whatever he had been doing. She excused herself to the kitchen and stood at the sink for a few minutes, her hands gripping the edge of the counter, breathing until it passed.
Later that night... or early morning, really, she came down for water and found Hazel already there, sitting at the kitchen table with a mug in front of her that had probably been tea two hours ago. They looked at each other in the dim light.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Amelia asked.
“Neither could you.”
She sat down across from her daughter. Hazel was fifteen. She understood things now with the full weight of a person who understood them, and there was no version of this where Amelia could protect her from that weight. She had stopped trying. What she did instead was sit with her.
“Are you going to be okay?” Hazel asked.
“Yes. It’s going to take some time. But yes.”
“Promise?”
Amelia looked at her daughter... her fierce, watchful daughter who had been cleaning the kitchen obsessively for eight days and pretending it wasn’t because she was trying to hold something together.
“I promise.”
Hazel nodded slowly. She traced the rim of her mug with her finger, not looking up.
“Dad has been calling every day.”
Amelia went very still. “I know.”
“He came by yesterday when you were at the lawyer’s.” A pause. “He didn’t come in. He just dropped off food with me.”
Amelia said nothing.
“He has been there, Mom. Like, quietly, consistently there. He is not asking for anything.”
She opened her mouth to argue with her daughter. This was not the time for this, but the expression on Hazel's face made her swallow her words.
“I’m just saying,” Hazel said, and picked up her mug and went back upstairs.
Amelia sat in the kitchen for a long time after that.
The next time she picked up her phone, she had decided who she wanted to call. She told herself that she wanted to ask him how Charles' case was being processed, but deep down she knew she just wanted someone she could talk to. Someone that wasn't a child and could understand what she was currently going through.
She scrolled to his name. It was still in her contacts from before, never deleted, because she had never been able to bring herself to do that even when she wanted to.
She first debated on calling, but later settled on sending a text message:
Thank you for the food. And for everything else. I would like to know what happened with Charles
She stared at the message she sent, suddenly feeling stupid for even reaching out. But when his reply came a few minutes later, her worries were thrown out of the door.
How are you?
She thought about that. The truthful answer was that she was tired. She also realized that he didn't want to say anything about Charles until he knew how exactly she was doing, which was very thoughtful of him. But she wanted to know too... that he was either dead or put behind bars.
She replied:
I'm working on it. Where is Charles? Has he been locked up for good?
Amelia received no further response, but she understood a few minutes later when there was a knock on her door, and Adrian appeared in the doorway.