Just a few hours ago, I was looking at Ruth's pictures, and now, all of a sudden, I am flying to Verona to greet my uncle, who is on his deathbed. Joane is sitting next to me and is going through her phone now. I tried to wrap my head around Ruth's pictures, how she made eye contact with Miles, and how even behind that smile she was worried. I didn't get time to send her picture to my sources; I was too absorbed in the feelings, and before acting quickly, I would like to take all the guilt in first. I had caused her a lot of pain because of my stupid teenage ego, and I ruined that girl's life. I didn't care about others for whom I'd caused pain; they deserved it in one way or another. I wouldn't care about destroying my ex or anyone else in high school; they all deserved it one way or another.
but she didn't deserve it.
I destroyed Ruth because she was a ray of sunshine, which you would crave and long for in the harsh winters. A smile from her could ease all of one's burdens and make everything feel so calm and relaxed which made me the villain in her story. I was a villain and I intended to be one for the rest of my life not for her though. Not anymore
I close my eyes are picture her photos in front of my eyes again, how her hair perfectly came down her shoulders before she wore that helmet and how through that she made eye contact with miles before they started the race.
I could feel a sense of possessiveness rushing through my veins. I felt like I wanted to kill Miles and bury him 30 feet deep down the earth's crust for looking at Ruth and passing her a smile.
but again he was a friend and I wouldn't murder him. I let her memory sink in as I recalled the Thoughts of her coming back to me, beginning from when I first saw her in high school. It was a cool September day, the cold noticeable as she came in wearing black tights, a pink top, and shoes. Her curly hair fell around her face, and her joyful grin brightened the room as the teacher presented her to the class. She had a remarkable way of looking at everyone as if she wanted to be friends with all of us. It was so charming, like watching a child in a store full of sweets.
Cute.
Joane was landing the plane and this broke into my thoughts. "Sir, we are about to land," she said. I nodded without looking at her directly. But when she took her seat again, I stole a glance at her; and that's when I saw it — just the faintest tremor in her hand. It occurred to me then that maybe she didn't like flying too much. I'll ask her about it later, soon the plane landed and I got off and exited the airport with well-paced and subtle steps with my guards behind me.
Several cars were lined up, waiting for me as I stepped outside. I made my way to the middle car where the driver promptly opened the door for me. With a nod of thanks, I slipped into the backseat, and the driver closed the door behind me, enveloping me in the quiet comfort.
Glancing at my phone, I exchanged texts with my uncle's doctor, who mentioned that visiting hours would conclude in five hours. Despite not being hospitalized, my uncle received home visits, following a schedule reminiscent of a hospital environment, complete with designated visiting times. It seemed imperative to see him promptly if I wished to do so. The message underscored the importance of time in maintaining connection and support, even within the framework of home care.
After 25 minutes, we arrived at my uncle's residence. Calling it a mere house would be an understatement—it was a vintage mansion, seamlessly blending into Verona's aesthetic. This place held the essence of my childhood; before relocating to the States, my mother and I lived here with my uncle. However, we had to depart when I was around 11 years old, if memory serves me right.
As I crossed the threshold, I found myself enveloped in the bustling atmosphere of my uncle's magnificent estate. Several servants and maids greeted me with a nod as I walked down the scenic corridors. I purposefully asked where my uncle was. A servant, who was distinguished by his manners, offered to guide me. We followed her through the wonderful halls until we reached my aunt's room. After a pause, I clapped slowly and respectfully before he entered the sanctuary and saw him lying in his bed. One of his hands was attached to a glucose drip. He looked very weak since the last time I saw him, which was last Christmas. I walked closer to his death, and something in my chest clenched and twisted slightly. Seeing the only family member lying on his deathbed wasn't an easy task, not even when you are used to hiding your emotions.
I sat on the chair which was next to his ed and gently held his hand which caused him to open his eyes and look at me and i felt another twist in my heart as my uncle looked at me tierdly but happy to see me next to him.
'' Dylan ...you are here, when did you come ..'' he said in his weak raspy voice.
'' just an hour ago, how are you feeling now uncle'' I asked holding his hand and helping him sit as he was struggling to do so
''I am better far better now that you are here .. I hope that you have come to spend at least a week here '' he said smiling a it.
'' well I haven't planned my stay just yet, the doctors called me and informed me about your situation and I had to come but if I can I will stay here for a few days until I know you will take care of yourself'' i said to him softly.
'' Ah, I see. Has anyone accompanied you—a girlfriend or a fiance that I don't know of?'' His smile grew more.
''No one of that kind has, and you already know that I am very busy with my life; I don't have time for dating or getting married,'' I said sternly and politely.
''But you are of the proper age to get married or at least have a girlfriend,'' he said, ringing the bell to call the butler. He liked to do things the old way; instead of giving him a call, he used room service.
"I'll find the one, Uncle, don't stress about it. Now, remind me what caused your stroke," I said, my tone shifting to a deeper seriousness.
As the butler entered, my uncle requested two black coffees without sugar, and the butler promptly fulfilled the order before departing.
"Well, it wasn't anything significant. I wasn't stressed at all. I was simply watching the news and got worked up over the parliamentary issues in the States. I was worried about how you were handling things, the business and all," my uncle explained, sighing and fixing his gaze on me.
"We've had this discussion before, Uncle. You know I'm no longer a child. I'm an adult capable of handling small issues. You shouldn't risk your life over such minor worries."
"I'm well aware of that, but I'll always worry about you. You're my only nephew, you know that right?" he replied with a chuckle, which elicited a smile from me.
"Yes, I'm well aware, dear uncle," I smiled back, rising from my seat as the butler brought the coffee. I handed one cup to my uncle and took the other for myself.
While I generally kept my affection to myself, I was very open in the company of my father, mother, uncle, Miles, Rudy, and Chase. There was an unspoken comfort in their faces, a knowledge that just a little could make me look away. Using them, I could create a delicate touch, allowing warmth and romance to emerge from the ordinary. It was a testament to the depth of our connection, a quiet understanding beyond words.
Losing my father in a tragic car crash, followed swiftly by my mother's passing from a heart attack, marked a seismic shift in my being. Witnessing her struggle with the loss of my father, her beloved husband, I couldn't fault her. Their love was profound and undeniable. Yet, in the wake of their deaths, I found myself shutting down emotionally. It was as if a part of me had retreated into an impenetrable fortress, guarded against the pain and turmoil of loss. Emotions became a foreign language, one I no longer dared to speak.
Soon, my uncle drifted into a deep slumber, and I turned off the lights and went outside the room. I called James for a daily check-in to find out how everything was going on his side. I walked around the halls and made my way to my old room. The room was painted sky blue, and clouds were drawn on the empty walls. This was the only room in the mansion with colour; all the other rooms were painted emerald green. I walked into the centre of the room and saw my ED. My old teddy was in the centre of the bed. Memories flashed as to how, as a kid, I used to be in this room and play with my toys or run around. Things were different back then.
''It is good to see you again, young master'' a voice spoke behind me.
''Clyde, I didn't know you still worked here, and please don't call me Master,'' I said, feeling surprised. Clyde was one of the head chefs and a personal friend my uncle kept close.
''Well, sir, that did come out of an old habit,if you remember that,'' he said, smiling.
I did remember that I refused to be called out by my name. I liked the sound of the young master, because he called my dad and uncle Master, so that is where I grew egoistic and a stupid kid. But Clyde used to play with me, sneaking me ice cream and all those little fun things a kid would want, he was now in his sixties but still managed to look way younger.
''Sir, lunch has been served; please come'' Clyde said, looking at his watch.
'' Sure, I'll come down in a minute. Thank you.'' I said and kept looking around the room.