The taxi screeched to a stop in front of Rachael's house. She didn't wait for the driver to say a word before pushing the door open and stepping onto the pavement. As Rachael stepped inside, the creaking of the door broke the oppressive silence. The house was silent. She was met with the sight of David sitting on the couch, his hands clasped together, his face unreadable.
Harriet stood near the fireplace, arms crossed. Kate was perched on the armrest of a chair, staring at David with an expression that danced between curiosity and suspicion.
"David, what's going on?" Rachael asked, concern etched on her face.
David looked up, his eyes haunted.
"I'm sorry, Rachael. I've been a mess lately."
Rachael sat down beside him, taking his hand.
"What's wrong? You can tell me."
David hesitated before speaking.
"I saw you with that guy at your birthday party. I didn't expect... I don't know, Rachael. It just felt like a punch to the gut."
Harriet shook her head.
"This is about that Simon guy, isn't it?"
Rachael's stomach clenched.
"David," she said, her eyes locked on his.
"Simon has nothing to do with you acting this way. Or does he?"
David clenched his jaw, but before he could answer, the door swung open.
It was Simon
His presence filled the room like a gust of wind. His face was composed, but his dark eyes burned with barely concealed frustration.
"I see you rushed home," his voice smooth yet laced with tension.
"I just wanted to make sure you got home safely," Simon murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.
"But I guess I underestimated how much he means to you." He took a deliberate step forward, his eyes locking onto Rachael's with an unnerving intensity.
"I'd like to know what exactly is going on here. Because from where I'm standing, it seems like David is more than just your childhood friend, Rachael."
The tension in the room thickened. Rachael glanced between the two men, her mind reeling.
"Enough," she snapped. "This is ridiculous."
Simon turned to her, his expression softening.
"Then tell me, Rachael. If I'm wrong, prove it."
Her breath hitched.
"Prove what?"
Simon took a step closer, his voice dropping.
"That you don't have feelings for him."
She felt the weight of everyone's gaze pressing against her.
Harriet, who had been silent for a while, finally spoke.
"Rachael, you don't owe anyone an explanation. But you do need to be honest with yourself."
Rachael swallowed hard. She looked at David, his expression unreadable, and then at Simon, whose frustration barely masked something deeper.
A long silence stretched between them before David finally stood.
"I need some air."
He walked toward the door, but Simon's voice stopped him.
"You're running again?"
David turned, his eyes flashing.
"I'm not running." "I just don't see the point in standing here and having a conversation that leads nowhere."
"Because you don't want to hear the truth," Simon countered.
"And what truth is that?" David challenged.
"That you love her," Simon shot back.
The words hung in the air, heavy and impossible to ignore. Everyone froze. Even Kate, who had been watching with mild amusement, sat up straighter.
David's jaw tensed, but he said nothing. His silence spoke volumes.
Rachael's stomach twisted.
"David…"
His gaze met hers, raw and open.
"I'll see you around, Rachael."
He turned and walked out the door.
Simon exhaled, running a hand through his hair.
"Well, that went well."
Harriet shook her head. "This is a mess."
The door opened again, and Adam stepped inside, his expression unreadable. He had been outside, listening to the whole drama. His gaze settled on Rachael.
"You need to fix this before it spirals out of control."
Rachael didn't respond. Her mind reeled from the whirlwind of emotions. Simon was still standing there, eyes full of a desperate longing she didn't know how to handle. The weight of it all felt crushing.
"I think you should leave," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Simon's brows furrowed. "Rachael"
"Please," she repeated, firmer this time, though she could feel the tremor in her voice.
Simon studied her for a long moment before finally nodding.
"Alright," he murmured. "I will leave… but I will see you later." He flashed a smile,
Then, with a final glance at Adam, he turned on his heel and left for his room.
The days that followed carried an unsettling rhythm. Each morning, fresh flowers waited at her doorstep, their scent clinging to the air like a ghost of Simon's presence. Gifts like delicate jewelry, silk scarves, books he imagined she'd adore gathered in silent heaps around her room. And every day, without fail, another letter arrived, inked with devotion, heavy with promises, thick with longing.
One evening, she sat on her bed, fingers tracing the edge of a thick envelope that he sent in on that day.
How about a dinner in another city, Miss Racheal? I also want us to leave for a few days. A vacation away from all of this. Just you and me.
A vacation? Leaving Festac? It felt like too much, too soon, too dangerous. She needed clarity. And there was only one person she could confide in.
Rachael found her mother seated by the window, gazing out at the world with a wistful expression, as if yearning for something that had slipped beyond her reach.
"Mom," Rachael began hesitantly.
"Simon wants us to go on a vacation. Outside Festac."
Her mother turned, and to Rachael's surprise, a slow smile spread across her lips.
"Rachael,"she said gently,
"I do not know what to tell you anymore. But I will say this: follow your heart. I see the way Simon cherishes you. He has already told me he would love to spend the rest of his life with you."
Rachael stiffened. "Did he?"
Her mother nodded. "Yes."
"I didn't want to tell you because I wanted it to be your decision. I want you to make your own choices, unlike me."
A shadow fell over her mother's face, and for the first time, Rachael noticed the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes.
"I was sold to the George family when I was eight, Rachael," she whispered, her voice trembling.
"I didn't even get to make a choice. The Georges owned me."
"And now he's killed my son." A strangled sob escaped her lips as she buried her face in her hands.
Rachael felt the air leave her lungs. "Mom… I had no idea you went through all this." Her mother shook her head, composing herself.
"It's okay, Rachael. I've learned to live with it. But I want better for you. I want you to know that whoever you choose to be with, I will honor your decision. You deserve to choose your own fate."
Tears welled up in Rachael's eyes as she reached for her mother's hands, squeezing them tightly.
Later that night, Rachael sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers hovering over her phone screen. Her heart felt like it was waging a quiet war within her. Finally, she typed a message to Simon.
I won't be able to leave Festac. I have business to handle, but we could go somewhere private. Five Seasons Hotel Restaurant in Greendale. That makes sense to me.
She hesitated before pressing send, her mind racing through the complicated web of emotions surrounding her and Simon. And then there was David. She had never stopped to consider the possibility that he might have feelings for her. Her phone buzzed almost instantly.
Perfect choice. "I'll pick you up at three so we will get there on time," Simon replied.
She placed the phone on her nightstand, staring at the ceiling, thoughts clashing in her head. A part of her wanted to feel excited about the dinner, but something felt off. The last few days have been overwhelming.
The night of the dinner arrived, and Simon met Rachael outside her home. He looked immaculate in a tailored navy suit, his smile polished and confident. Rachael, dressed in an elegant black gown, forced a smile as she stepped into the car.
"You look breathtaking," Simon said as he drove.
"Thank you." Her voice was quieter than usual.
The drive to Greendale was smooth, but the air between them felt thick with unspoken words. Simon, usually charming and conversational, kept glancing at her as if trying to read her mind.
"You seem distant," he finally said. "Are you nervous about something?"
Rachael shook her head. "No, just... thinking."
Simon reached over and took her hand, squeezing it gently.
"Tonight is just about us. No distractions."
She nodded but didn't say anything.
As they entered the restaurant, the soft candlelight and gentle hum of conversation enveloped them. The waiter led them to a private table by the floor-to-ceiling windows, where the city skyline sparkled like a work of art.
Simon ordered a bottle of wine, and for a fleeting moment, the evening felt almost normal. The wine glasses sparkled as Simon lifted his in a toast, but before he could utter a word, the tranquility was shattered. The doors burst open, and a group of men in dark suits stormed in, their eyes locked onto Simon with an air of urgency.
The restaurant fell silent, with all eyes fixed on the unfolding drama. The only sound was the soft clinking of glasses and the muted hum of the air conditioning. Rachael's breath hitched as the agents closed in.