Ewan gripped the steering wheel of his car, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. The streets blurred past him, a stream of city lights cascading by as he raced to get home.
His mind was a chaotic whirlpool of thoughts, each wave crashing into another. Athena. Fiona. Dinner. Sucide.
"Damn it!" He muttered under his breath, glaring at the empty passenger seat beside him, where Athena should have been.
If not for the call, he would have driven her home after the dinner. It was why he had relieved his driver of his work early. However, all his plans have come crashing down.
The memory of Athena’s face—beautiful and blank—haunted him. What had she thought when he hurried away? Did she feel abandoned?
The mere idea made him wince, a feeling of guilt clawing at his insides.
As he turned a sharp corner, the tires screeched in protest. He accelerated further, hoping to outrun the guilt that felt like it was growing through the very marrow of his bones.
’How can the simple act of dinner go so wrong?’ He thought, tightening his grip on the wheel and fumbling with his emotions. He had feared the worst when he got the call about Fiona’s situation, images of darkness swirling around his mind.
Was it really an attempt at suicide? So soon after the last? What could have triggered this episode? Did she have a brain problem like he did? Was it affecting her mental health?
Panic flooded Ewan as he thought of this. If the version of Fiona that had fought to save him from the clutches of death was now in a state of despair— what did that mean for him? Wasn’t it his fault?
Sitting in that restaurant, he hadn’t realized how critical things had become. And now he was racing towards home, trying to balance a delicate tightrope between being supportive for Fiona while wrestling with his unresolved feelings for Athena.
"Her case is one of life and death!" He muttered desperately, as he honked at a distracted driver who had run a red light. "What was I thinking, even entertaining the idea of dining with Athena when Fiona is still recuperating?"
I should have waited. It’s too soon. My duty to Fiona comes first!
The longing for clarity was drowned by the chaos surrounding Fiona’s distress.
As he approached his house, he could see the familiar silhouette of his sanctuary—but now it felt more like a prison. It was a sleek modern oasis, but the warmth was lost to him that night. It felt eerily cold compared to the raging storm of emotions inside him.
He parked and stepped out, the night air biting at his skin, grounding him in the reality of what he was doing.
Inside, the gentle hum of home met him, but even that felt like a false comfort. His house staff greeted him with polite nods, but he managed only a distracted smile, his mind swirling with uncertainty.
"How is she doing?"
"She is better, according to her personal maid."
Ewan furrowed his eyebrows. Personal maid? He didn’t remember assigning anyone to Fiona specially. Yet, it didn’t matter, so long as she survived this issue.
The house staff could sense Ewan’s tension but didn’t pry; they were used to the gravity of his moods. They rather scurried to their duty posts, allowing him to stew with his emotions.
Ewan made his way through the dimly lit hallway, approaching the special room he had designated for Fiona after their engagement. freewёbnoνel.com
It was an elegant space filled with delicate trinkets and soft lighting that seemed to flicker nervously in the shadows, almost embodying his own anxiety. The door was slightly ajar, and he pushed it open, heart pounding in his chest.
"Ewan!" Fiona exclaimed as she turned to face him, her voice laced with an anxious tremor.
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears that reflected the soft glow of the lamp beside her. She shifted on the couch where she sprawled, her form oddly vulnerable.
"Why didn’t you call me? Why did you choose to do it?!" He demanded, stepping into the room.
The lingering scent of her favorite jasmine perfume filled the air, but it mixed with the tension, saturating the atmosphere with a heavy weight.
This felt like an emotional minefield, and he was tiptoeing through it, unsure of where he would tread wrong, especially since she looked absolutely fine to him.
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