My first visit to Paris especially to the famous island of Lle Saint Louis, on the banks of the River Seine, has gone down the drain. The sun is smiling in the salty water as it flowed across the city, connected through four bridges. And I strolled on one of those with my hands tugged inside my jacket. The weather wasn’t chilly though my mind and heart are becoming stone cold with each step I take away from Serena’s home. I itched to turn around and give it a try once more, but her revolting words threw me back. I scanned the bridge to find John and Nathan standing a little further away near the fence. They looked blanched. Nathan jogged towards me, his eyes redder than a cherry and lips shut tight. He hugged me at the waist, and cried, “She’s bad.” I sighed. “She’s torn and she’s still your mother.” “I don’t love her,” he objected, hugging me tighter. “Let’s go home. It will be just us and Uncle John from now onwards.” John came upto me and gave me a pitiful look. “I don’t know w
I've been posessive all my life. I never thought my posessiveness about my restaurant's future has reached to another height when it's image is probably about to be maligned in the war of love. For the past twenty-four hours, I've tasted atleast a handful of dishes and they all reflected my chef's recipe. At first I'd ben overwhelmed. A round mass of fire errupted in my eyes and I can't seem to spit out at hat someone who I was about to summon for another confrontation. The twist in the dirty tale is that despite knowing the culprit, I can't discharge my fury at the owner and staff for it might create a bad reputation. My staff has worked overtime along with me to bring Price Inns at the top I can't let my past and present ruin the exquisite scenery of that place which actually brought the love in me. How are love life can affect our careers? I always wondered, now I see the reason how competition can play a pivotal role in being a sadistic catalyst to revenge. Serena's revenging me a
Flashback"What are you doing here?" Serena barked the moment, she opened the door. She stood there with a grumpy look plastered on her face while there were dark circles poking out of her eyes. Seems like someone else is becoming an insomniac like me. I leaned against the doorframe, taking in her sight. It didn't cross my mind that I might offend her with my sudden visit but I needed to do it anyway irrespective of the heated disagreement between us. I reminded myself of what I found out after tasting several recipe's of the Clay's. Either she has been working for them or she had decided to rob a job in France by a cheap tactic. Whichever it were, I had a mind to unleash the mystery behind it and this morning I woke up with another intention other than covering the gap. A new aim and a new mindset to change my ways. "Are you here again to bother me with your devious accusations?" Taking two steps further, she added, "Shouldn't you be out of this town already?" "Quite the opposite.
“Fuck you, Daniel.” Serena repeated two more times, completing the circle of three, the great or so I believed. It sounded a ringtone to my ears when coming out from her mouth which I’ve only tasted a few dozen of times. I’m starved of love. Her love which drove me at the edge of maddening adventure.“Feeling better, Darling?” I inquired, handing over another glass of champagne. I’d the conscience to fix us a few drinks for a good travel in the middle of the river from where we could review the top sightings of the city. The captain of the boat didn’t seem to mind Serena’s howling; Nathan stared at us baffled but engrossed in clicking pictures on his tab and as I eyed John, I found him chuckling silently, his head immersed in his phone.“How can one feel better when you’re around?” She snorted.“I’m not that bad of a company.” I defended myself, placing my glass on the trolley and adjusting my shirt collar. It had displaced from it’s position and was causing an itching sensation in my
Breaths. Hard breaths. Cold. Perilously frigid. Holding onto the wheel of the boat,a houseboat to be exact, I held onto dear life of mine. My idea was to add an adventure in the list of romantic escapades with Serena. Never in a traumatic history, did I ever sought a possibility of becoming the victim of a maddening rush of water in the boat hanging our lives at the brim of the sinking boat. It has turned upside down. When I'd hired it earlier in the morning, I'd imagined myself proposing marriage to Serena on the deck surrounded by water on all sides with orchids and roses blooming inside the cabin. A fresh start to our relationship in the presence of the most vital element of life after clarifying our box of misunderstanding. I had bought an engagement ring for her which was secure in my pants pockets, until I felt it slipping out in the river and the red velvet box vanished away. The captain is supporting my lower body by entangling his legs with mine. I watched him struggle to
'If death were to touch one of us, why wasn't it me?' I stared at the body or it peered at me, the pupils of John's eyes had gone red. The marine life shielded him, beginning to find their meal in the man who had been more than an anchor. Nothing made sense from there because my decision has led to the death of an innocent, once again. What difference does my cursed existence make now? The venomous hold Carolina's words have had on me have done more damage and my efforts to sustain a normal life are becoming futile. I breathed in bubbles as the water began to enter my lungs or I allowed it to enter my body on purpose for there's no meaning to my life anymore. "John…," a shockwave struck me and my lips whispered his name automatically. It was the sound of defeat. Despite knowing I can't bring him back to life, I tread in the water with my mind shutting out the world like it did when I lost my family. He was no less than a family; he was an elder brother who'd chosen to bring healing t
My heart has suffered losses uncountable and my eyes have seen deaths horrific than that of Carrie's. Maybe, that's an exaggeration of what I think has perspired throughout these years but the scene infront of my eyes, made me want to hide behind the pillar and cry. We returned to Manhattan in the night, and currently stood at John's home facing his family who looked at me with questions swirling in their teary orbs. "I am sorry for your loss," in a faint voice, I started, bowing my head infront of his wife, paying my respect as well as support at this grieving hour. "What did he do to deserve this departure?" Mrs. Cavelli, who was a tall, lean yet firm women, asked in a shaking whisper. We've been standing at her apartment door for about half and hour, and she and her girls are staring at John's body unmoving. Tears cascaded from their eyes, and I don't know how else to describe this other than: forlorn figures aiming to mourn yet couldn't for they seek the truth of the staggering n
Funerals were a thing of past; it has been relatively a long time since I attended one or even thought about what to say on such a traditional ceremony. As I put on the suit, and began to knot my tie, I remembered Mrs. Cavelli asked me to speak a few words in honour of John while we were leaving her apartment last night. I was startled with her request because who in their right minds would want the cause of their misery to be the man who bids farewell to her beloved husband? A tribute! Oh, fuck me, Lord! But again, she's a Cavelli, being with John might have had tremendous impact on her. I could say this with confirmation for he's changed me inside and out or that's how I see the reality of my situation. There's a sign of guilt seeping upwards from my gut to my heart and kidnapping me for a vicious setback. All things aside, today isn't about me but the Cavelli family yet I can't push aside this gnawing pain of having a part in ending the story of my friendly therapist. I wished for h