Chapter 21: The illness

After a few more days passed, suddenly one day, Alley Houston developed a fever. It was unclear whether her wound had become infected, but Karimba Cellon was filled with anxiety and restlessness. He entered her room and softly made a request:

"Let me clean the wound on your back."

Alley Houston didn't respond but instead asked:

"Isn't it you who's sick? Don't you find my body repulsive?"

Karimba Cellon lowered his head in silence, gazing at the small, frail figure of Alley Houston lying on the bed. She coughed a few times while speaking, and it pained him to witness it. He sighed deeply and sat down beside her.

"I'm not afraid of anything, I'm only afraid of losing you."

Alley Houston covered her head with the blanket, not wanting to hear those words. She feared delving back into the illusions she had drawn for herself. Behind her, Karimba Cellon gently placed his hand on her shoulder and spoke in a soft voice:

"Alley, trust me, just trust me once, can you do that?"

Alley Houston remained silent. A heavy silence engulfed the space between them. Karimba Cellon softly removed the blanket covering her head and slowly unzipped the dress she was wearing.

The scarred back of Alley Houston appeared before Karimba Cellon's eyes, causing his heart to ache as if crushed. Karimba Cellon felt a burning sensation in his nose, and his heart overflowed with bitterness. Was the Cellon family related to her? He clenched his fists to suppress the anger in his heart.

The strange thing was that Alley Houston didn't resist Karimba Cellon's actions. Perhaps she understood that the most important thing now was for her to survive.

Karimba Cellon suppressed the pain and anger in his heart, applying the ointment that Dr. Will had sent him earlier to Alley Houston's wounded back. The wound was festering, causing her to flinch from the pain. Perhaps it was the cause of her fever.

Alley Houston's unexpected compliance added to Karimba Cellon's heartache. He realized that she wanted to live, that she chose to escape rather than end her life. She was healing her wounds, not harming herself. Alley wasn't depressed; she was resilient and strong.

Karimba Cellon firmly held back his pain and resentment, placing his hand gently on Alley Houston's shoulder. "You'll be alright. I'm here for you," he said.

Karimba Cellon zipped up Alley Houston's dress and then lay down beside her, holding her close. He had prepared himself for a sleepless night, but to his surprise, he soon noticed that Alley Houston's breathing became slow and steady.

She had fallen asleep. She must have drifted off sometime without him noticing. The cool sensation on her wound had probably made her feel more comfortable.

"Finally, you've let go of your guard against me," Karimba Cellon smiled, whispering softly in Alley Houston's ear before gently kissing her hair. In no time, he felt his own eyelids becoming heavy. He took off his shoes and settled on the bed, embracing Alley Houston as they both drifted into slumber.

In the middle of the night, Alley Houston woke up. The sense of insecurity always kept her from sleeping deeply. She looked beside her and saw Karimba Cellon still asleep, though his eyebrows were slightly furrowed. Alley Houston sighed; he probably wasn't sleeping well either.

Alley Houston recalled the time before, when there seemed to be a distance between them even in their relationship. Marriage without love was already good enough—respectful and polite to each other. But after she decided to leave, Karimba Cellon changed completely. She couldn't help but fear that he would become distant and cold again, leaving her behind despite her pleas, abandoning her dignity.

"Let it go, don't trust, and don't overthink anymore. There's no turning back now," Alley Houston whispered to herself, covering her head with the blanket, reminding herself to stay alert.

In the darkness, Karimba Cellon slowly opened his eyes, stifling a sigh, and closed them again as if not hearing anything.

The next morning, Alley Houston woke up to find a bowl of hot porridge by her side. After a few days of practice, Karimba Cellon's culinary skills had improved, and he could prepare some basic dishes. Since last night, he had invited Dr. Will to the small house, and he had promptly arrived to examine Alley Houston in the morning.

"The wound is infected. Luckily, Mr. Cellon took care of it roughly last night. We still need to monitor it, and if the fever persists, use the fever-reducing medicine every six hours," Dr. Will advised carefully. Alley Houston was relieved to hear that the doctor had arrived. Karimba Cellon walked Dr. Will to the door, taking a few steps before turning back to look at him with an incomprehensible expression.

"How does Alley's spirit seem to you, Mr. Cellon?" Dr. Will asked, and Karimba Cellon appeared taken aback by the question but answered calmly:

"She's quiet, uneasy, restless, and she never smiles."

Karimba Cellon spoke with concern, and he gazed towards the small house where Alley Houston was residing. Remembering her recent behavior, he couldn't help but feel heartache.

Hearing his response, Dr. Will shook his head, his face showing some concern.

"I'm telling you this in advance to prepare yourself mentally. Alley is showing signs of depression. At this time, you should pay more attention to her."

Karimba Cellon nodded slightly, lips pressed tightly, unable to say a word. Dr. Will noticed he was not in a good mood and patted his shoulder a few times before leaving the small house.

Midnight.

Alley Houston suddenly felt like she was floating in mid-air, surrounded and enveloped by darkness. The vast emptiness in front of her made every breath more difficult and burdensome. She opened her eyes wide, searching for any hint of light to cling to, but all she found was an endless expanse of pitch-black darkness.

Suddenly, a deafening sound echoed in Alley Houston's ears.

"Screech!"

"Crash!"

"Ahh..."

Alley Houston jolted awake, her whole body frozen with coldness. Before her lay the lifeless body of her twin sister, Lily Houston. Lily Houston was lying under the wheels of a car, her face pale, her eyes wide open, the whites of her eyes stained with blood.

The girl's body was mangled under the car's wheels.