Eliana threw back her head and laughed. There was something about Rhys that reminded her greatly of her youth. when she was young and not so uptight. It made her feel like she could be young and free again. She could throw all caution into the wind and just live, not minding the consequences. Tears had begun to appear in her eyes from all the laughter, and she cleaned them off with a finger. “What did I do?” She echoed his question. “It’s funny. I’m sorry, but it is really funny. For you to think that an old woman like me can do anything.” She smirked and corked her head to the side. “What did you think I did, Rhys?” Rhys stared at the woman long and hard. And she laughed again. He frowned. “Are you drunk? Did you take those pills again?” She narrowed her eyes. “What pills? How do you know about the pills?” He rolled his eyes and got up from his seat. “You took the pills. Get up; I’m taking you to bed.” “No,” she shrieked. “I am going nowhere.” “We have a guest in the ho
Rhys reclined on his foot. He watched the scene unfold with a mixture of guilt to and admiration. He heard her voice as it flew through the air. It was loud and clear. It showed him the ones she ran from, the ones she wanted to forget, and the ones she loved. It was the story that she struggled to tell him, and he understood her perfectly. She wanted the works to be seen, yet they were all ignored. As she sang, something shifted within him. With each verse, her voice grew stronger and more resolute, as if finding its footing on uncertain ground. It soared and dipped, rising like a dove from the pieces of her despair. Then there was a moment of pure clarity. The moment when he realised that her voice was her instrument—the melody and harmony of her soul. This was all she needed. Sophie was not mute; she was not disabled; each note confirmed that. She was strong and powerful, and her voice was the deadliest weapon she had. He smiled as he thought of Eliana. If she ever saw this, sh
Rhys tapped his feet as they waited for the therapist. They had driven a long distance to be here, and Sophie was anxious to go back home before her aunt noticed their absence. The receptionist, whom they had booked their appointment with and had received them as they came, returned with two bottles of chilled water. “Here please.” She smiled nervously, handing them one bottle each. “Vivienne would be here shortly. She doesn’t usually keep her clients waiting, but something came up last minute.” “No, it’s fine,” Rhys began saying, but stopped as Sophie punched his thighs. “Uhh, if there is a way you can let her know we are here and in quite a hurry,” he said instead. The woman took a step back. Rhys had the time to take a good look at her now—he hadn’t before. She looked like she was in her early or mid-thirties, chubby with a chinless face and fat legs that hid inside a pair of flat soles. “Well,” she began. “Ms. Vivienne is aware that you are here, and you do know that your
Rhys himself could barely explain how it felt to hear those words from her mouth. Those three words had evoked a lot of feelings in him all at once, and he could not react immediately. He had spent almost a half hour staring at her, unbelieving, yet he wanted to hear the words again. He had scooped her in his arms and kissed her until he felt all his feelings evaporate into thin air, and all that was left were their bodies. They are hot against each other. That day, he loved her back. He let go of everything that held him back—all his restraints—and gave her all of him. He could easily picture that day as the best day of his life. The day he had been free. They made love there in the meadow. Her favourite place. He would do anything to be there again, in that moment, with her. And then she returned to being mute. He did not know what happened; she did not know what happened, and now he really wanted to help her. So he called one of his buddies, and they recommended Vivienne. She
The hell was not quite as hot or brutal as Rhys thought. Sophie’s aunt had no choice but to agree with Sophie’s note. She was old enough to go wherever she liked without coming back home to answer questions, but her aunt still had to remind her that she was living under her roof and eating her meal. Sophie, at one point, was tempted to ask whose fault that was but decided it was better to let her aunt have the last laugh rather than drag this out longer than they both wanted. After the loud bickering and the passing of the storm—again, Rhys’ thoughts—Rhys decided to go through Sophie’s note book again. It had been so long since he had a glimpse into her past. He stole the book from Sophie’s room—she had taken it back sometime ago without his knowledge—and retired to his room and sunk into bed. Yesterday, he received a letter from the ‘new owner’s stressing that they had closed down their shop for more than three months and this was affecting his businesses. He was going to prop
You know, I can’t find her book. Uncle had gotten two of the same kind of books and given us one each. I can’t find hers. Ever since she went missing,. Rhys shut the book and laid it to one side. He hated how the book made him feel, but he was thankful for the things the book showed him. Sophie’s past, which he now feels connected to in some way. Eliana had been wrong; his relationship with his mother had been strained, especially towards the end of her life, but her family, the one she tried to hide from the world, was the absolute worst. He could not imagine a father who killed his own daughter, scared his wife’s niece so much, and a mother who tried to protect that man. It was obvious that she did not love him. Then why did she do it? Why was she so bent on making everyone believe her family was okay? Why did she not report him for his crimes? Was the opinion of society and how she appeared to them all that mattered to her? How could it be all that mattered? He got out of bed
Rhys drove. It was the one thing he found himself doing more often these days, and he was beginning to enjoy it. I was getting better at it. How did he know? Sophie did not mind his driving anymore, and she was beginning to complain less and less. Although Rhys felt he’d have to stay this one out and remain in the car for the duration of time that the homecoming lasted, he was not a fan of crowded spaces. And this crowd was very foreign to him. He pulled the car to a stop in the driveway that Sophie had directed them to. Sophie got out first, then rose and bowed at him. “Aren’t you coming?” She signed from outside the car. “No. I think for tonight, I’m just going to be the chauffeur. Let me know once you are done, Madame.” He smiled, but Sophie did not think he was funny. She pulled her notepad out of her bag and scribbled into it. Sophie: You are supposed to be with me tonight! Rhys rubbed his head. She looked like a pouting princess. And he thought he resembled a frog. He
“There's nothing like that now. Before then,” hiccup, “we broke up. She didn’t want to be distracted in medical school. Now she’s back, and she only has a doctor in her name.” “Raul bro.” Rhys said, taking the glass from Raul’s grip. “You’re wasted. You need to stop drinking.” Sophie was the first to notice the woman who approached their circle. Her heart stopped, her breath hitched, and suddenly she was feeling too hot. Agatha’s daughter was their therapist. How did that happen? Was Agatha’s daughter not studying to become a lawyer? What was this sudden twist? She grabbed Rhys’ arm and pulled him back into the house and then into their car. “We need to get out of here!” she signed. “I did try to warn you.” Rhys said that and started the ignition. Sophie saw Vivienne walking out of the house—perhaps to stop them—as Rhys pulled the car out of their driveway. What are the odds that she thought that her therapist was Agatha’s daughter? *** The guests began to arrive one by one, a