Chapter 4: The Unraveling of Bonds
"You wish to see your sister?" Mory asked, his tone sharpened by an underlying tension.
"Did I magically turn my words into water?" Lola shot back, a mix of defiance and hurt lingering in her voice.
"If that cryptic ritual will coax you into eating, then so be it," he sighed, the weight of the moment pressing heavily on his shoulders.
"I refuse to touch that slop; whip up something new for me," she insisted, her finger stabbing at the unappetizing meal resting forlornly on the tray.
"What would you like?" he questioned, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes. "I can summon the maid to assist."
"I want you to cook."
Since their marriage began, Mory had tactfully side-stepped the kitchen, leaving the culinary duties entirely to Franca. Before the tragic loss of her sister, years ago, he'd been a deft hand at the stove, crafting meals that sparked joy in her heart and warmth in her belly. Now, confronted with her request, she realized, with a pang of melancholy, that he hadn't cooked a single meal in three long years.
"Very well! If that's what you desire, I shall oblige, but for this one occasion alone," he acquiesced, irritation flickering across his brow. "Now tell me, what shall I prepare?"
Could he really commit to this? Lola pondered, struggling to reconcile his current willingness with the three-year drought of culinary creativity. Was he merely placating her due to the whisper of divorce looming above them like a dark cloud? She had always revered his culinary offerings, but how to express that yearning felt like an insurmountable barrier. Yet, what had shifted in these moments?
"Pepper soup."
He nodded curtly and headed towards the kitchen, and Lola took the opportunity to shower and change, anticipation igniting within her. She longed for freedom; there was a myriad of things to accomplish, and seeing her sister was just the first step on the extensive list clamoring for attention.
Forty-five minutes later, Mory returned, bustling into the room with the food on a tray. She took a tentative bite, and the flavor enveloped her senses in a burst of nostalgia—every spoonful resonating with the meals she once cherished.
Determined to conceal her pleasure, she attempted to mask her enjoyment, yet Mory was not fooled; he could see the delight sparkling in her eyes.
Once she finished, she grabbed her small bag, ready to leave, when Mory halted her with a firm grip on her wrist.
"Leo," he called out, his voice booming with authority toward the driver lounging in the living room.
Leo rushed upstairs, the air thick with an imminent announcement.
"You're accompanying her to see her sister," Mory declared, his steel gaze locking onto Lola as her eyes widened in disbelief. "What do you mean?"
"Things are changing from here on out," he asserted, placing his hands on his hips as if bracing against a turbulent sea. "Whenever you step outside, he will remain by your side. No exceptions."
"What's the necessity of having him around?" she demanded, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she pulled her hand away from his.
"There's no room for negotiation. You either accept this, or you stay home," he clarified, the finality of his words echoing in the confines of the room.
"I'm heading to see my sister; how can you expect me to have him shadowing my every move? I need you to answer my question."
"Visit your sister; Leo won't intrude," he chuckled with a hint of mockery. "He'll maintain his distance, but he will follow you wherever you go."
"This is absurd," she exclaimed, frustration boiling within her. This was not the life she had envisioned; it felt more like an unwelcome puppet show governed by his whims.
"It's your decision—stay locked within these walls or allow him to accompany you," he said, his voice thick with a sense of grim finality.
"You can't keep me here forever. We are destined for divorce; remember my words."
In a swift motion, he grasped her waist, their faces inches apart, while Leo instinctively turned away, respecting their moment of intimacy laced with tension. She could feel his warm breath fan across her cheeks, igniting a blend of unease and nostalgia.
"Remember my words as well; unless I breathe my last, you are mine to hold," he murmured steadily, each syllable dripping with conviction.
She freed herself from his grasp and pushed past him, her heart racing, with Leo dutifully following in her wake.
The drive was subdued, a heavy silence wrapping around them like a suffocating blanket. Lola slipped on her earbuds, seeking solace in music that could drown out the reality of the situation. She leaned her head back against the plush seat, stifling a yawn as thoughts swirled like autumn leaves caught in a tempest.
"Why do you keep watching me? Is there something on my face?" Lola queried, catching Leo's gaze flickering toward her in the rearview mirror.
"No, I'm sorry. Just lost in thought," he replied, the sincerity of his apology feeling almost misplaced.
A twinge of suspicion flickered within her; could she trust him? His eyes had lingered on her throughout the journey, igniting a knot of uncertainty in her gut. She clutched her bag firmly, awakening from her weary daze, refusing to let herself become vulnerable even within such harmless company.
When they arrived at the burial site, Leo opened the car door for her with a polite nod.
"Stay close," he instructed, a note of protectiveness lacing his words.
"Understood."
He retreated a few steps back, and with a mixture of trepidation and longing, Lola ventured into the graveyard alone.
"Long time, sis," she whispered, kneeling before the grave. "I didn't bring you anything; I hope you're not offended," she admitted, her fingers brushing the cool stone.
"You left me here alone with that relentless monster of a father. You vanished, abandoning me to grapple with everything on my own." Tears began to swell in her eyes as she poured her heart out to the stone, her voice trembling with emotion. "Grandpa's gone too; he hasn't been seen since you left. I've searched for him, but it feels like he's deliberately avoiding me. He must miss you terribly; you were always his favorite."
The dam within her broke, tears spilling down her cheeks as she confessed her grief and anger. "I wish you were here, just so I could yell at you for the silly promises you made to Mory. But..." she paused, the pain of unfulfilled dreams tightening her chest. "You aren't here anymore, so I can't unleash my anger on you, and I guess that makes me the selfish one."
Lola remained there for what felt like an eternity, kneeling at the grave, allowing her sorrow to wash over her like a cleansing rain. Two hours slipped away before she finally rose, dried the tears staining her cheeks, and walked back to where Leo waited patiently. As she entered the car, her phone's screen lit up with a call from Jenny.
She answered, a curl of trepidation twisting in her stomach. "Lola, Stella went live on Instagram; you need to see this."
"Okay," she replied, dread washing over her as she tapped into the live stream.
On the screen stood Stella, her expression a mix of triumph and despair. "Thank you all so much for supporting my dramas; your undying love keeps me strong. But right now, my life stands in ruins, and I must be honest. Yvonne is the reason for this drastic decision; no one else is to blame."
With that, Stella bowed graciously, offering a smile tinged with a hint of madness before leaping from the precipice of a high building.
Lola's hand flew to her mouth, horror mingling with disbelief as the world around her blurred into chaos.