CEO’s REDEMPTION

The sound of my bed buzzing disrupts me from the comfort of this bed. If I had some busybody nosy friends, I would have probably rolled my eyes and ignore the call, or act like a pompous bitch and switch the damn gadget off. But that is not the case – never has been. I have no buddies at all. This call can only be either from Jerol’s parents or his friends who have been calling to ask how he is doing.

I pull myself away from my Jerol cautiously, without alarming him. The peaceful sight of his cute face when he is sound asleep like a toddler is something that the ordinary eyes of a normal woman can’t fail to appreciate. I would stare and even droll over him the whole day like this – if only he can remain this peaceful all the day through. How I wish.. ooh just, how I wish…

He slept soundly last night because he thought his Ellie was with him. Ellie! Ellie! Ellie! Wherever you are, come back to this man’s life. He is losing his sanity.

I grab the phone and check the identity of the caller, my face turning dull after checking it.

I don’t want to wake him up yet, so I tiptoe to the balcony.

“Good morning, father!” I greet the moment I press the receive button.

I am used to this kind of calls by now. The load on his parent’s shoulders is way too heavy making them restless. I pity them.

“Good morning, my daughter! How are you?” The hoarse voice of Mr McCall silently echoes from the other end.

“I’m good, father. How are you doing?”

“We are doing here. How are things over there? How is my son today?”

Even the tone of his voice at this point fluctuates. He sounds so troubled. I can’t surmise what they are going through seeing their son like this. Every parent would be feebly bothered by the situation. An honorable business guru, now looking like a cabbage. So defeated and lifeless. It’s dead worrying!

“Well…” I just can’t tell him that his son slept soundly because he was hallucinating about his lost fiance, right? Besides, Ellie doesn’t exist to them. They know nothing about the ghost tormentor, and I also am bound by the contract to not say anything that will contradict Jerol or my relationship with him. “He is still sleeping, father. At least he slept last night.”

“Did anything happen?”

“No. Not that I know of, father.”

“Alright. We are coming over after breakfast. I think my son needs a doctor. I will be bringing one with me today.”

“Okay, father. Whatever you think is best.”

We say our goodbyes and I end the call.

I hope this will not trigger another hysterical episode from Jerol. What if he doesn’t want to seek medical advice? I can’t stand to see him lose it in front of his parents. The pain in their eyes will kill me, and seeing him like that will hurt me more, like it always does.

I tour my eyes around the back view of the eye-catching compound. The beautiful flowers blooming with so much life under the morning sun. The environment outside feels so tranquil. The morning breeze calming every single nerve. What an ironical mockery, right? Everything outside is so full of life, but inside this castle, everything is so dull and lifeless. This castle is filled with so much tension, fear, and worry. Just comparing the mood outside with the one in here, an idea crosses my mind, and I dash back to the room in a hurry.

An empty bed greets me, making a frown immediately appear on my face, the weight of the eye bags adding to it.

Huh! He woke up already?

I was about to tell myself that he probably is in the bathroom, but seeing the bedroom door a jar gives me a compromising cold chill that runs down my spine.

I walk out, and up the long staircase to look for him in the two rooms he usually goes to when he walks out of our bedroom – the gym or the study. If you ask me, I prefer him going to his study than that other cursed room. I don’t know, but there seems to be something that triggers his anger more in that damned gym. Every time he goes there, he ends up hurting himself. There seems to be a bloodthirsty evil spirit roaming in that fucking gym and I have come to hate that room.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

Standing at the door of his office, I knock slightly, and when no reply comes, I push the heavy mahogany door slowly. At least it’s not locked, and that isn’t a bad sign. From the first time he locked himself in the gym, I took it upon myself to ensure his safety and collected all the spare keys of the possible rooms he can go to, including the kitchen, and kept them with me, just in case.

There he is.

Closing the door behind me, I stride to where he is standing at the window, his gorgeous back on me. He is staring through the closed window. I stand beside him on the left, and though he doesn’t turn to me, I can sense that he acknowledges my presence. Today he does not look so bad as a human, but for a man of his pedigree, he looks terrible.

I open the big window, the fresh air slapping our faces with force due to the heavy breeze. He closes his eyes. This must be feeling so new. He hasn’t left the house in weeks now.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I ask in a soft audible whisper, and he opens his eyes, throwing me a quick glance before turning to look outside through the open window. “You know, it’s said that a fresh environment is good for our health. A fresh environment helps you relax. It calms you down and refreshes your mind. Don’t you want to feel that magic – you know, just a little change?” He keeps quiet after my lullabies for what felt like an eternity, and I was about to open my mouth again when takes my breath away with his sweet voice.

“I’m fine here.” He is not looking at me, but he is talking to me.

He is talking?

Apart from last night when he thought he was talking to his Ellie, I haven’t heard his voice for more than two weeks. Before that, all I heard from him for days were nothing but yelling and shouts. That is how long he has been mute. I can’t help but stare at him, and him not staring back at me gives me the courage to stare more.

He talked!

I should be jumping up and down with a “you are finally talking” expression or even saying it to him, but I don’t want to make him feel worse than he already is.

“I didn’t say you aren’t.” I say with a slight faint smile, trying so hard to keep my real feelings from surfacing because my heart is doing a twerk dance inside its rib cage. How emotional of me, Huh! But this is normal, right? I mean, worrying this much, and being concerned about him? Yeah. Humanity is caring, and I am human! His eyes are on me, commanding words out of my mouth. “But you will feel better if you get outside. Just for a while.” I finish with a slight pleading nod of my head, my eyes glued on his.

Surprisingly, he turns around like an obedient zombie, walking out, and I trail behind him. I can spot the servants peeking at us from the kitchen, and since I don’t want Jerol to feel like an alien in his own castle, I distract him by wrapping my arm around his. He looks at me but says nothing. I think he still recalls I am his wife.

At the middle of the beautiful captivating clean garden, there is a bench and a table. We settle down, and I can see how his body warms up to the fresh environment. He leans back on the bench, closing his eyes to take in the freshness, allowing the sweet morning sun to bathe him. His face is shining bright under the direct sun rays, his hands crossed on his broad chest. I look at the scars behind his palms. They have healed, but the marks are still there. They will take time to disappear, like the wound in his heart will take time to heal. Just like I nursed the wounds on his hands, I will do what I can to help him heal the one in his heart. If not for anything, just for the simple reason that he is the saviour of my life. My black messiah. I don’t know where I would be right now if he didn’t buy me. A weird encounter it was, but good all the same.

I stand and wander to the back of the bench behind him, hesitant to do what my crazy mind is urging me to do, but I kick my fears aside. In this life, you have to be bold in anything that you put your mind on. If you doubt yourself, then nobody will believe your actions no matter how true or right they are. My miserable life until weeks ago taught me that, and I learned it the rough way.

I gently put my palms on his head, caressing his skull, moving them slowly in a soothing motion until I reach his temples. I stop there, massaging them slowly. He needs to relax. This head needs to loosen up.

“What are you doing?” He asks, holding my hands with his, and looking up at me.

“Relax, Jerol. It’s just a normal massage. It won’t hurt or bite.” I show him my most innocent pleading look that sends his hands down to his chest again, shifting his gaze from me, and I take that as a “go ahead” sign.

I continue massaging his head, resting it perfectly comfortable on my chest as I reach for the temples.

I swallow hard when I realize my eyes are scanning his face. He looks so peaceful when his eyes are closed, but who knows what kind of a monster is roaming in his mind. Ooh, Jerol! Come back to life! Come back to your senses!

What do I need to do to bring back the old jerol?