Dearest Chef

Chapter 7

"Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Peter. Postscript: We need to talk."

I frown, because in addition to Evan's unexpected message, much less did I expect or understand him to wish me a Merry Christmas. He? It had to be a joke!

It had been a long time since those dates doesn't cared for him, I suppose that from the memory of that fateful day that he knew, it always came back to his memory without his being able to avoid it. 

I have to admit that I couldn't bring up this whole topic because of what it did to me.

I have never liked to seem weak when it comes to my feelings, that was something that had brought me many problems during my childhood and adolescence and with a huge effort I had managed to repress.

Although I didn't remember anything from that December twenty-sixth, I could do it halfway with my parents' faces. I shake my head with a lump in my throat, saying that nothing good brings remembering the past and I decide to respond to my brother's message.

"Agree. Also for you. We will talk when I return."  

I decide for now not to touch on that subject, however, my brother's desire fills me with frank curiosity in these festivities when before I did not even consider them relevant, even more than once I had bought him a gift; he had just rolled his eyes and grumbled that he didn't care about Christmas.

Could this have to do with Leilah Ferguson? I had no doubt that this gradual change was due in some way to the influence of this woman.

I barely notice that we are already at the airport and I let out a sigh, trying to relax and keep my face unfazed by whatever that inspector guy would want. 

I had decided to keep my mouth shut and continue with the pantomime of ignorance, which until now had come out to me to ask, not only with my brother, but with everyone around me.

The trip was most boring and it was difficult for my mind to distract from the real reason why my name had come up next to Roxanne's. Had our meeting been more convoluted than I thought? Would I have reason to suspect a third party planning to harm me? 

I try to lessen the unpleasant bitter feeling in my stomach and immediately the name of Miles comes to mind.  Perhaps the damned was upset by my rejection of his proposal and even his own sister, perhaps it was his way of telling me that no one could contradict him.

After sending the bastard Miles along with the devil to hell, I notice that the plane does a pirouette that announces that it is about to land. I press my lips into a fine line as I recognize the LA Ontario airport, curiously I feel threatened and not about to testify for a murder.

Perhaps it is the same thing, I only know that I should not have set foot in Canada again, it was a terrible mistake that now brought me the worst consequences.

Just down, some men wait for me to escort me to a car, where I suppose they will take me to the inspector who requested my capture. I swallow hard without showing anything on my exterior that betrays me of the jumble of emotions that begin to bubble inside me.

The thing is serious and there is no use pretending that it's not.

I wonder what Evan will say about it and I wince because so many lies I know must taste bad, especially since I had promised long ago not to get me in trouble again.

This involved more than a drug addiction out of control, it was a murder case; precisely that of a woman with whom I had recently become involved.

The men who escort me don't even speak to each other or to me. Their grim faces seem to be carved in stone and the path to the province is awkward and tortuous. 

I let out a sigh when we finally arrive and the bubbling in my stomach comes back louder. The icy air hits my face with sharp stitches that scratch my skin, I shudder to resent the winter of the moment in this part of the planet. 

Barbados was definitely even warmer, the snow that covers everything around me here in Canada is proof. The coat I'm wearing is barely enough to keep me warm.

I tightly wrap the hugs around me and immediately we go to a normal office, not the kind where there is a table with two chairs and a glass that can be seen from another room; it is a normal office, where you find a grumpy-looking man in front of a computer.

"The inspector will see you right now." He speaks with his eyes fixed on the screen. I twist my lips into a grimace and the man just points to a door. "There."

I move my steps towards the indicated place, ceasing to feel the guards who had accompanied me all the way like a pair of shadows. I let out a silent sigh and prepare for the questioning of the inspector, whose name I don't even remember.

I take the doorknob and turn it as I hear a man talking on the phone in a very loud voice. 

I hesitate momentarily at the door, wondering whether or not I should interrupt. The man notices my presence and with a wave of the hand, indicates to me enter the room.

I walk into the warm office where there is a large dark wooden desk, with a sash window just behind it overlooking the street. 

An extremely uncomfortable-looking chair is in front of it, and a huge painting on top of a coffee table with an old-fashioned telephone on it makes me frown, making me question if it's just an ornament or functional.

The portrait above is of an old man who frankly makes me feel nervous and causes an unpleasant shudder down my spine. Maybe it's just because of my raw nerves.

"Do you think it has something to do with the murder?" Says the man on the phone with a steely tone of voice, his face looks grim and severe. "Well it seems so, but don't lose track for now …"

I stand, waiting for his phone conversation to end, while trying not to feel out of place, although from his words I cannot help a bitter feeling lodge in my stomach. 

The man makes a wave of his hand again and I take another step forward to sit in the chair that I confirm, it is quite uncomfortable. 

I cross my arms on my lap without knowing exactly where to look, although my eyes wander from time to time to the man in front of me, who listens carefully without losing his stern gesture.

Were they on the trail of Miles? Would they know at least a little what it is really about and for that they had associated me with the sinister? So many musings turn my head and make me feel dizzy.

"I'll be aware of the information, thank you very much." Suddenly he hangs up the phone and his blue eyes go to my position in a scrutinizing way. I don't like the way he looks at me.

"Mr. Roberts, it's nice to see you around." His tone is more affable, but his gesture is still severe. I nod without saying a word and he takes a seat in front of his desk, resting his head on the back of his hand, looking at me circumspectly. "I'm Inspector Louis Darmond." 

There is an awkward silence, where I feel my throat tighten. I take a deep breath and about to open my mouth, the man nods slowly and outlines a smile that does not match him at all.

"I hope you can help clarify this unfortunate matter," he says, his eyes fixed on me. I clench my teeth about to reply something rude, but I hold back.

"I don't understand how I could help them, sir," I shrug in a dismissive gesture, "I hardly knew the victim."

"That's not what it sounds like, Mr. Roberts." I frown at his insinuating tone, wondering where he wants to go with this questioning.

"What do you mean by that, Inspector?" I say harshly. "Speak up for once and say things clearly"

The man seems to be amused by my attitude, he outlines a most sardonic smile and narrows his eyes with amusement. I sharpen my gaze and feel the features of my face gradually harden, while I weigh a possibility that had not crossed my mind.

Was he somehow complicit with Miles? A knot forms in my stomach and I feel powerful nausea.

"The victim had his phone number registered with the nickname: «sweetie»" He raises an eyebrow, his face hardening again. I clench my teeth, trying not to scream in disgust. "According to some statements by the people at the Motesse bar, you were seen talking to her in a rather compromising and one would say romantic attitude."

I try not to roll my eyes at the nickname Roxanne herself had used when referring to me. Now I am completely convinced that it had all been a ruse on her part to harm me. 

Maybe it was sent by Miles and that idea does not seem entirely crazy to me, considering that two of his thugs had also been found dead under strange circumstances.  

"She was a p********e and we were only reaching an agreement that night." I clench my fists at my sides, wondering if he realizes the size of the lie. The man raises his eyebrows in amazement. "It's all that ties me to her."

"Why would you have your phone number, if you're implying they only saw each other that night?" He leans forward, his eyes narrowing even more. "Isn't that curious?"

"It seems curious to me rather that you imply that I have something to do with what happened to her," I say dryly, leaning in my chair as well. "Does that imply… inspector?" 

The man tilts his head and stares at me for a few moments, the rictus of his lips twisted into a grimace of disappointment. Then, sketch another smile and nod once, relaxing the intimidating pose.

Mr. Roberts, did you know that the victim had relationships with a rather dangerous drug trafficking network?" he put his fingers together, clicking his tongue. I immediately tense up, but keep my face undaunted. "What does this say to you?" 

I feel a party in my stomach, it jumps and my throat is dry. So they had finally figured out Roxanne's connection to that garbage? My heart skips, thinking that maybe they will connect to me too.

"I had no idea," I go again. I feel like the intonation came out in the middle of a gasp. The inspector does not suffer any change in his expression.

"Well, the point is that this woman is not a p********e and everything seems to indicate that you knew each other from somewhere else, do you understand?" He asks suspiciously and the sensations in his stomach intensify.

Of course we knew each other before, now the question was how much that information would involve me with Miles and his mob. I shouldn't risk it until I found a way to get a lawyer to help me out of this quagmire.

"By a phone number?" I raise a dismissive eyebrow, feeling my throat sting. "Excuse me, but that is not a reason to suspect my involvement in her death, I already told you that we met that night, I don't know where you want to go …"

"Wait a minute, sir." He raises a hand, interrupting me, "We also have information that you left the bar in circumstances, let's say ... not very favorable, two very tall and strong men who were accompanying the lady took it out like an old fret, right?" 

I avoid swallowing hard so that the bewilderment on my features is not noticeable. I hold his gaze and nod slowly, telling myself that at least in that part I must be sincere.

"I had an argument with her and her bodyguards ended up arriving or whatever those men were and they took me out of the place" I shrug my shoulders again. "That was it, nothing relevant."

"Why did you both end up arguing?" Raise an eyebrow.

I knew that topic would come up, so I turned over and over an idea in my mind that would be quite plausible under the circumstances.

"We had s*x in the VIP area of the place" remembering that matter was not pleasant at all, but I had no other choice, "She wanted to charge me more than what we had established and when I assured her that I would not pay a penny more, she got angry and ordered me to kick it out."

"Did you threaten her?" He squints his eyes. "Did you physically assault her?" 

"I wanted to, but I already told you that her bodyguards pulled me out before I could touch one more hair," I answer briefly.

"Well, more than a hair you touched her, I assure you," he murmurs distractedly, staring at some papers. "Are you sure you have no idea that she was involved in that dangerous criminal network?" He looks at me scrutinizingly again. 

"I'm sure," I answer, hardly feeling that my voice is more or less firm. 

His comment and next question almost put me out of my mind. My hands are sweating and shaking a little.

The man nods once more, perhaps gauging my reactions. I remain undaunted, impatient for this interrogation to end and they let me go about my business.

"Well, Mr. Roberts, you can go now," the man speaks again, raising a finger, "but you must stay in town for a few days, while we clear up a few things and move the case forward. I recommend you to call your boss and advise him of the changes."

I frown at his suggestion and immediately erase that expression from my face, imagining that he refers to the one who had hired me on the cruise. Clancy was certainly going to scream in the sky, but there was nothing he could do and I had a contract.

"All right, sir," I let out a resigned sigh, standing up.

The inspector extends his hand and mutters something about my well-being, then redials his cell phone. 

I leave quickly, trying to make the lump that has become ingrained in my throat disappear. The unease has not left my body and I am fully aware of the rapid pounding of my heart. 

They knew more about Roxanne than I thought and surely Miles's name was also involved, or maybe not, I'm not sure of anything anymore. 

The steam that comes out of my mouth does not even manage to distract me, I am walking aimlessly, so deep in my thoughts; that I do not realize that I collide with a person, until it is too late.

"Hey watch where you're going, i***t!" The annoying voice brings me out of my reverie and I look up, frowning. "You!"

He seems to recognize me and before that fact, my disturbing is enough so as don't kick him for his rudeness, his insolence or worse; their overflowing joy, as if we were lifelong friends. 

"I know you! Of course!" He keeps telling me enthusiastically, as if he had just discovered a treasure. "You're Peter, right? Well, coincidences do not exist!"

I'm about to question who the hell he is, when a spark of understanding lights up my mind. I roll my eyes and snort at precisely finding him, as if there are no other people I could find into in this entire city. 

He really is the last person I expected to find myself walking the streets of Canada: Steven's unbearable friend.

"Ah, you ... hi." I make a face that causes a laugh in him. I twist my lips, because I don't quite like his cheeky attitude. "What are you doing here?"

"On vacation for Christmas, I came to see my uncle and cousins, don't you remember?" He shrugs, without losing his huge smile that irritates me at this point. "And what are you doing around here?" 

"Work matters," I shrug nonchalantly, taking a step back. "If you don't mind, I must find where to stay …"

"Why were you leaving the police headquarters?" He says mockingly, raising his eyebrows quickly. "Trouble with the law, hunk?"  

His excessive confidence manages to drive me out of my boxes and I look at him with an icy expression, which makes him raise his eyebrows in perplexity. Perhaps he is smarter than I expected and had understood that it was better not to bother me right now.

"It's none of your business," I say in a dry, monotone tone.

"Hey, cool old man!" He laughs derisively shaking my shoulder. I get away immediately, looking at him in a bad mood. "Did my friend Steven tell you that my cousin wants to meet you?" He speaks suddenly, leaving me completely off base.

"Sorry?" I frown, not making sense of his words.

"That my younger cousin wants to meet you," he scratches the back of his neck, looking curiously uncomfortable. "Steven told him about you and she's bugged me all this time for us to introduce them, but I told her you'd be in another country, and now you're here. I see that destiny does exist!"

"And you say it!" I speak wryly, starting to get impatient. " Hey, so…" I make a pause, "nice to see you, but like I told you, I need to find where to stay and…"

"Well, if you want, we can go to my uncle Roger's house and so we take advantage and once you meet …"

"No, thanks," I cut him quickly, wondering if he's already lost his mind, or maybe the cold was getting to him too much. "You hardly know me, how do you think of offering me such a proposal?"

"Steven has known you for a while," he shrugs casually, "and my friends' friends are my friends too."

I'm starting to think it's pretty  annoying and tiresome.

"Well, I'm sorry to destroy your illusions, but Steven isn't really my friend." I speak in a bad mood, trying to get rid of him as soon as possible. I need time alone to reflect. "I'm very busy right now and I don't have much time."

"Maybe another time then," he says without losing his smile. I nod without saying a word, unable to snub him. 

Overall, I was never going to have to deal with him again and she would tell Steven about it.

I plan to put even more miles with Canada, if with that I can definitively remove Miles from my life and everything that has to do with his f*****g world of s**t. 

So right now, as I say goodbye to Steven's friend (whose name I can't even remember), I make it a point to call Clancy with the bad news and find a hotel room, promising not to set foot in Canada again or for all the gold in the world.

***

I only had to stay in that cold place for five days that seemed endless, like real torture. 

I also had to buy winter clothes, since at that time I did not expect to be in a refrigerator but on the island of Barbados and the Bahamas, enjoying the warm weather despite the season.

I huff in frustration, as I grab my luggage to finally go back to California. 

I'm still reluctant to see Evan, in case he's still bent on following his stupid arrangement with that little woman, but I can't refuse to talk to him when he asked when I got back, either.

On the way home, I think that maybe Evan will give me the news that he is going to end this absurdity, But since I don't want to speculate and my mind is still scrambled by what happened recently, I decide not to burn my head with that.

As soon as I arrive, I notice that the light in the living room is on. It's just a little before dusk and I guess he's just back from the clinic, like every day. I enter stealthily, meeting the figure of my brother who is with his back to me, humming a melody in a happy and carefree way. 

I frown at the scene so unreal before my eyes, trying to remember a precedent where I would have found him in such a good mood, with that dreamy expression of happiness. 

I can't even remember her smiling so often.

"Did I go to the wrong house ... or have I entered an unknown dimension?" I speak as soon as I cross the threshold and still with the suitcase in hand, not knowing if I should run. "I think this is the second option. Got damn!"

"Peter!" Evan exclaims with affability, outlining a huge smile. I still can't smooth my brow. "You've just arrived?" 

"No, I'm still at the airport," I long ironically, rolling my eyes in annoyance. "What you see in front of you is a hologram."

My brother laughs out loud.

"Are you funny?" He seems not to realize his absurd attitude. I purse my lips, not finding the humor in his laugh and comment. "Or are you more bitter than usual?"

"I'm not the only one who seems to have personality disorders, brother," I huff, dropping the suitcase against the cold marble. "You told me you wanted to talk to me, what is it about?"

Evan raises an eyebrow, slowly wiping the smile from his lips and the lively set from his features. 

He looks at me in a fixed and scrutinizing way, causing me to move restlessly in my place. I can't help but think about the irony of the situation, of everyone wanting to look at me ready to analyze me.

"What's wrong, Pete?" His tone of voice hardens, as do his features. "You bring a face …"

"It's the same as always, brother," I snort, trying to compose the expression on my face. I wonder what he saw in it. "I'm just a little tired from the trip."

"Well, I hope you don't have to do one again until March." He relaxes his expression a little and smiles at least a little. "I wanted to talk to you about the Leilah thing."

I raise an eyebrow in his direction and nod once, fervently waiting for him to tell me that everything between them was going to end. Evan shoves his hands in his pockets and I suddenly feel nervous, as if that was possible with him.

Although in this surreal reality, everything is possible.

"I know you love your privacy, so ... you won't have to put up with it loitering around here anymore." I start to feel encouraged, I even manage a small smile when he continues, "at least not like before."

"Excuse me? I frown as hard as I can. "What do you mean with that?"

Evan purses his lips and I feel like I won't like what he's going to tell me. He even looks at me apologetically, the one he's used to showing so as not to use words.

"We have decided to buy an apartment." His tone of voice does not show anything relevant, except that his gestures are uncomfortable. I could see him for leagues. "Obviously, I will pay only half."

"One apartment?" I question incredulously, wondering if he has gone mad. "Are you serious, Evan?"

"It's just so as not to arouse any more suspicions about ...us." He shrugs his shoulders, looking away, pretending to check his cell phone. "Her brother and some of her friends are already looking at her with mistrust and as it is something that should not be known …" Raises his head.

I don't know what he sees in my expression, but he stops and rolls his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. Right now I feel like throwing the suitcase at his face, so that maybe he will realize his idiocy. 

"And I suppose I suck my thumb and you expect me to swallow that tale," I blurt out, earning a sharp look from him. "If what you want is for them not to find out about their clandestine relationship, the best thing is that it ends and that's it. Problem solved. But since you don't even want to admit that you don't want to finish it …"

"Did I ask your opinion on this?" He raises an arrogant eyebrow, I cross my arms without losing an iota of resolution. I"'m just letting you know how things are, don't lecture me like you're my mother, Peter.",

I purse my lips because his words send a twinge in my chest. I snort with evident disgust and his expression relaxes, I know he is going to apologize but the truth is that all that matter has already fed me and this time I will not be the one to give in to him.

"Well, you know what you're doing, I guess," I shrug casually, imposing the most ironic tone of which I am capable. "But I know the day will come when you will no longer be able to deny what is in sight and before you ask me, I will tell you: that woman has you stupid and you will not be able to do anything more than admit it."

"Don't be absurd, Peter." He doesn't even look at me, he just goes upstairs without saying anything else, probably to take refuge in his room. 

I shake my head disapprovingly and roll my eyes, then follow him in absolute silence.

***

The month of January slipped away very slowly for my liking. Things were tense between me and Evan over this Leilah thing.

While he had that goofy expression that had already bugged me, on top of that, in my work, the head chef had her clinging to me and had ensured that I stayed to work late, according to him: “to make up” for the absences I had. 

I hadn't any more problems with the Miles bully thing, I had simply learned from Evan that the newspapers had a story of the murder of a man, stabbed on Fourth Avenue. I had to keep my face undaunted, despite the intense burning that began to form in my throat.

A man was dead and I was responsible. Despite wanting to repeat to myself over and over again that I had only defended myself from a vermin, I couldn't help thinking that one day they would find my whereabouts and all my lies would come out. 

February arrived and therefore my birthday was approaching. Evan had hinted that he wanted to hold a celebration, which I strongly opposed, unable to hide my misgivings or animosity. 

He knew as much as I did that I hated celebrating my birthday, so the matter was settled at that point, with nothing more to be done.

The eighteenth of February was a day that I did not want to remember for the world. Before I had not opposed such a celebration, but for a couple of years, I had not wanted to hear about it. 

I close my eyes, when those painful memories come to my mind that I always try to suppress. The screams, the flames, the helplessness of not being able to do anything, of knowing myself responsible ...

I clear my throat loudly, trying to focus on what I'm doing without losing it any more. I can't screw up another meal at the restaurant or the boss would fire me and that would be the icing on the cake in my chaotic life. 

I snort because I don't want to think about it anymore, but the ghosts of my past kept coming back again without giving me a break. I let out a sigh and sip through my nose, when I feel my eyes sting with the urge to cry. 

"Are you ok" Chad looks at me curiously, pointing to the pan that is emitting an alarming amount of smoke. I shake my head, closing the valve on the stove. "I notice you very distracted."

"I have ... some problems." I shrug my shoulders casually, as if my life wasn't turned upside down. "I know I have to focus on my work …"

"If you want, you can ask for an exit pass, I'm sure the boss …"

"He already gave me an ultimatum, so thank you, but no." I raised a hand immediately, interrupting his spiel. "I don't need that, I just have to focus on what matters most."

"Is it a girl who has you like this?" He points in a mocking tone that I am not amused at all. "It would be unprecedented, but it's nothing to write home about, I …"

"It's not a girl, don't be an idiot." I can't help but blurt out in a bad mood, Chad shrugs with a smile. "The day I bring a girl here or you know that I'm lost for one, please hit me."

"I'll try not to forget it," he says sarcastically, after giving an annoying chuckle. "I'll see you, friend. Now let's get back to work."

I roll my eyes, wondering in my heart why a girl always had to be the object of deconcentration or distraction. The way my brother walked, it seemed more like an absurd state of being stupid, goofy. 

Pathetic would be the right word

I try to refocus on my work, focused on not getting fired and getting those horrible memories out of my head.

*** 

My birthday arrived and therefore, the stupid feeling that something bad was going to happen this day, just like two years ago. 

Unfortunately for me, I was still at home and my stupid coworkers threw me a party with everything and cake, making me feel disgusted by all the kitsch. 

I don't even know how that information got to them, but they definitely hadn't enjoyed it at all. 

I hurry back to the house, the memories prodding my mind and thinking about the message I had received from Miles a few days ago, in which he begged me to go see Jasmine, since she was very ill and wanted to see me before she died.

I refused immediately, thinking that as soon as that woman died, I would become a carrion for vulture. I couldn't help but think that it was another trap to harm me.

I open the door and notice that there is no light inside, despite being after seven at night. Surely Evan is in his love nest with that chick, which always makes me grumpy.

Perhaps it is due to my brother's reluctance not to accept it, and also that he denies it with such impudence is most incredible to me. 

I immediately head to the kitchen and pull out a bowl to make an apple pie for dinner. I had wanted that for days and was determined to fulfill my wish, not before putting on my white apron and playing my music at full volume, of course. 

I'm already halfway through the recipe, when I notice someone in the room. I frown and turn off the music when I notice Evan and my annoyance begins to grow by leaps and bounds. Wasn't he supposed to be with that woman?

"You, here again?" I say with mocking irony, focused on my task. "But how strange, why did you leave the nest?"

Evan just huffs and I know he's rolling his eyes right now, preparing to deny everything.

"I'm not going," he snaps dry. "Besides, this is my house too, right?"

"Of course," I shrug, narrowing my eyes. "Are you finally done with her?"

"Why do you say that?" He raise an eyebrow.

"You're here at the house, I guess it's all over now." 

He stands in front of the refrigerator without saying anything, which makes me even more suspicious. His attitude is too evasive.

"You don't want to end the agreement?" I ask directly, knowing that that was the whole point. "Is that it, right?"

"What are you talking about, Pete?" He turns to see me, raising an eyebrow mockingly. "Where did you get such stupidity? Of course I want to end this, I told you it was just a temporary agreement.” He shrugs, although it feels forced. 

I know he lie. 

"Okay." I twist my lips, narrowing my eyes. "You're hiding something from me, Evan."

"Oh no, Peter, I don't have time for your paranoias," he huffs, rolling his eyes. "I don't know where you got that from, I clearly told you several times that at the first complication, I would end the agreement."

"Complication?" I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "What complication are you talking about?"

"One that will not be a problem from now on." His voice is firm, though contained. "It is not something you have to worry about."

"Are you sure she's going to want ...?" I stop when I understand the connotation of his words. I turn to look at him and I notice sadness in his eyes, an impossible one for me to hide. "That's the reason, right? The «complication» is her."

He snorts again, but says nothing. Although at this point it is no longer necessary, I fully understand even if he plays the i***t and thinks that I am too. 

"I knew it, damn it!" He huffed annoyed, returning my attention to the cake. I try to contain myself but it is impossible. "Perhaps the «I told you» sounds quite worn out, but the truth is that I did, I told you more than once what this would entail; you're screwed, evan."

"Not if I can stop it in time, Peter," he blurts out, looking at me coldly. "Things do not have to change between us, I will correct the matter and everything will continue as before."

"You're pretty naive if you think she'll just go away," I sneer and he frowns. "It is obvious that that little woman feels something strong for you, she is not going to resign herself to leaving that door quietly, just because you decide to end the absurd agreement."

"Well, she'll have to accept it." His sullen tone makes me raise an eyebrow. "It will be the best for her and for ... me."

"For you," I repeat, pretending to be thoughtful, "it's not that you get bored of her, therefore, I must assume that things have turned around for you as well."

Evan looks at me in disbelief, but I hold his gaze without being scared. It's about time he realized the truth and decided to abandon that absurdity once and for all, although I suspect that she will not be willing to give in. 

"Don't be absurd, Peter," he replies coldly, with that pantomime of denying absolutely everything. "This is not about her or whatever she feels about me, this is doing my best not to complicate my life and much less …"

"Have you realized that it is already too late?" I cut short, crossing my arms again. "Your reluctant and moody tone creeps into me and makes me suspect that whatever you do is no longer valid, as I said before: you're screwed, brother.

"Stop talking to me like that, Peter," he speaks stoically and with his usual sharp tone that I must not reply. I purse my lips without saying anything. "Things will end and I don't want to hear that damn phrase that I'm …" He  lets out a frustrated snort, "... you know. Complication or not, Leilah will leave my life and you'll not have to worry about me anymore, in fact I don't need your words, not even your compassion." His words annoy me too much. How dare he?. "And if you have finished saying your stupid theories, I advise you to finish dinner and do not talk anymore, unless you want to say something mildly intelligent."

I grit my teeth without saying anything, suddenly feeling an awkward silence that puts me in an even worse mood. I head to the front door, slamming the door loudly on my way out and cursing the night of having such a stubborn and headstrong brother.

Without much thought, I go out into the cold night, regardless of whether I get sick or not. The frustration that I'm feeling for all my problems and now with Evan's situation has me on edge. 

I hear my cell phone ringing and look at the screen, rolling my eyes as I realize it's Evan. I let it ring, without caring that I carry a noisy device that contrasts greatly with the silence around me. 

Everything is calm and I let out a sigh, stroking my hair when the cell phone rings again several times. I decided that this is not the time to talk to my brother and head to a park near the house. 

There are hardly any new leaves on the trees that surround the periphery of the beautiful landscape. I sit on one of the benches near a soft patch of grass that smells like fresh cut.

I take a deep breath, feeling the breeze dance in my hair, shaking them with that cold breeze that is not enough to soak my bones but to calm and cool my spirits.

I stay for countless minutes like this, which seem to slip through my fingers. I fervently wish that the memories that steal my calm and peace are completely gone from me, as well as the time that never returns.

My phone rings again and, thinking it is Evan, I look at the screen and notice that it is a w******p message. 

I frown because I don't have the sender saved and also, because a chilling image appears in front of my eyes, making me gasp in bewilderment, releasing all the air. 

It is Jasmine; her face as pale as wax, clad in a beautiful white dress and tucked inside an open casket. I feel my breathing go erratic and my stomach clench at the image and the words that pray below:

"How about your birthday present, Pete? You did not want to come to see her and her last minutes were a total agony to hear her repeat your name over and over again, imploring your forgiveness. Surely her death fills you with relief now, right? But don't feel so relieved, you damn, I'll make you pay for every suffering you put her through. You are warned"

Suddenly I feel sick and this time the cold breeze makes me shiver from head to toe, knowing that now things would get even more complicated for me. 

Now what am I supposed to do?