Burn Me Right

Chapter 70

Autumn sat uneasily on the edge of the creaky chair. Her eyes locked on the window where rain relentlessly pelted the glass. Each droplet seemed to mirror the growing unease in her heart, a relentless cascade of worry and fear. The room around her was dim, lit only by the occasional lightning that illuminated her solemn face, casting sharp shadows that danced across the walls.

She had called Zyler, her fingers trembling as she dialed his number, but was met only with an unanswered call's cold, indifferent tone. With each ring, her anxiety swelled, a rising tide that threatened to overwhelm her. She tried Cole next, her voice barely above a whisper as she pleaded for him to pick up. But the result was the same silence, an echoing void that fed her worst fears.

Outside, the storm raged on. Thunder rolled in the distance, a deep rumble that shook the windowpanes as if resonating with her growing despair. The news had spread rapidly, an unstoppable wave of shock and disbelief. The president was dead. The words echoed in her mind, a mantra of horror and confusion. And deep down, in a place where fear and certainty intertwined, Autumn knew. She knew it was him. His mother was avenged.

A loud clap of thunder shattered the stillness. She spotted Zyler standing in the shadows. This time, fear was replaced with an overwhelming rush of compassion that tugged at her heart. Without hesitation, she rushed toward him.

Zyler stood there, his face devoid of emotion, weariness etched deeply into his features. At that moment, Autumn could see the cracks in his facade, and for the first time, he seemed ready to admit that he was a broken man. He wanted her to fix all his broken pieces. She made him sit on the chair to break this news.

She gently guided him to a nearby chair, her voice trembling as she spoke. "Elaine," she began, watching Zyler's shoulders slump, a defeated look in his eyes. Fate was bitch.  It fucked him up cruelly. He only had her now.

"When did this happen?" Zyler's voice was a masterful mask of composure, and grief weighed on Autumn.

"An hour ago," she replied softly, her voice catching in her throat. "The doctor called me. I've been trying to reach you for a while, but you..." Her words trailed off, lost in the gravity of the moment.

Zyler rose abruptly. "Let's go," he declared, and she followed, her concern for him still evident.

"Are you not going to change?" She stopped him, but he didn't want to. He wanted to bathe his mother's grave in her enemy's blood.

They reached the hospital with a heavy heart. She came to care for her in the short time she had known Elaine. Elaine suffered something no woman should suffer, and now she passed away peacefully.

"She suffered a massive stroke," Joel watched Elaine's lifeless body as his heart broke. He lost her, he had her, and he lost her again.

Zyler sat motionless on the edge of the bed, a haunting stillness enveloping him. The world around him felt distant as if submerged in a deep, soundless sea. The weight of an unbearable reality pressed upon his chest. She was there in the dim light of the room. Her body still and lifeless.

He had been through a lot. Perhaps, a lot for a child who was only a teenager. He had her, he kept her in his memories, and now he lost her again. What kind of twisted fate does he have? Was the man upstairs this cruel?

Autumn stood quietly behind him as a silent pillar. Yet he felt isolated in his grief, trapped in a bubble of sorrow that no one else could penetrate. The room was wrapped with a melancholy stillness, broken only by the soft, intermittent sobs that escaped Autumn's control. But he didn't cry, not a single tear on his face. Autumn rested her hand on his shoulder. He grabbed it and kissed her palm.