Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92071 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Chapter 20
Zola
The staff were all probably watching me making a fool of myself, but I didn’t care.
Reading the letter … my father’s words … made me realize what hurt the most. That I had just lost someone who loved me like no one else probably ever would again.
A part of me wanted to be grateful I had at least experienced being so unconditionally loved, but then another part was angry they had been snatched away from me so early. I felt a presence next to me and opened my eyes. Dante was crouching next to me and I suddenly couldn’t take my eyes away from his. I felt as if I was drowning in his blue eyes. I gasped for air.
“Hey,” he said worriedly.
And just like that I was able to see him in a different light, away from the twisted way I’d viewed him before. I felt so confused and vulnerable I quickly pulled my sunglasses down to put a barrier between us and he moved away slightly. I grabbed at the first thing that came into my head and blurted it out.
“When did you lose your parents?”
“I never met my mother,” he said quietly. “As for my dad … that’s a long story. I was raised by my grandfather. He died when I was nine and I was put into the system.” His eyes were blank as he rose and went back to his seat.
Before I could respond one of the flight attendants arrived with a menu. I wanted to refuse as I didn’t have any appetite, but I had no idea how long it would be before we reached London so I smiled politely and thanked her.
I chose the fried rice and roasted duck. It looked great when it arrived, but I couldn’t taste a single thing and the rich sauce actually made me feel sick. I stopped eating and grabbed the salad instead. It was pretty with brightly colored vegetables and fruit and promised to be more refreshing, but after just one bite, I was forced to abandon it. I was too sad to eat. I pushed the plate away and leaned back against the chair.
“If you don’t like those dishes, they can bring something else for you,” Dante said.
“I’m making space for dessert,” I lied with a small smile.
An attendant swung by to spirit away my barely touched plates. It bothered me that I was blatantly wasting his resources although I tried to talk myself out of it, I had to state my offer to cover my own expenses.
“I’ll pay you for all the expenses I incur during this trip, except the plane. There’s no way I can afford that.”
He didn’t answer so I pulled the window cover down and settled deeper into the seat so I could attempt to get some sleep.
It didn’t work. All I could think about was my father’s letter, and once again I found myself opening my laptop and rereading it.
My darling Zola,
If you’re reading this, it can’t be good news. Hopefully, you’re receiving this message a very, very long while after me writing this. However, I will keep updating it as frequently as possible. This is a strange thing to write since I’m still very much here. In fact, right now, I’m at the hospital with you, sitting by your bedside.
You almost drowned tonight.
And I can’t believe it. My hands are still trembling. I think I’m in shock. I can’t even understand how it happened. You are such a strong swimmer. Never mind. Main thing is you’re fine. I’ve been told there will be no lasting damage. While I’m incredibly relieved and glad you are fine, I think I’ll be traumatized by this for a very long time. Now more than ever I am glad of my decision to bring Dante to our home. If not for him I would have lost you tonight. I’ll be grateful to him for the rest of my life because if I had lost you then I would have been done with.
No more reason to live.
But today showed me how fragile this life is. And this is supposed to be my letter to you in case I am the one who has to leave you, hopefully not too early.
I guess I want to tell you I love you, but just putting down the words is not enough. I want to tell you that a few minutes ago I cried like a baby. In a way, I haven’t in at least fifteen years. I didn’t even cry this much when we lost your mama. It’s not because I didn’t love her as much as you, but because I had time to get used to the idea that she was leaving. I could see the vitality leaving her day by day. I had time to prepare myself.