"Dalia" he sounded breathless on the other side of the line. When the woman didn't reply he said again "Dalia are you there?" she could feel he was about to end the call.
"Yeah" she said almost inaudibly "Yes" that time she said it loud enough for him to hear her clearly. He let out a breath of relief and she did too. She hadn't heard his voice in months. She owed him a lot and she never got to thank him properly.
"How are you?" he asked, but she knew he wanted to ask where she was instead.
"Fine. You?" She wanted to speed up the conversation; she knew if he was calling it meant that something was wrong. "I'm sorry, Christopher, but I believe we don't have time for pleasantries. What's wrong?" She felt wrong for being so rude, but the longer the conversation lasted, the more danger she could be in.
"It's Emile" she let out a relieves sigh, she had thought the worst, that her mother had died or fallen ill. She always knew that was a possibility, but it never had registered in her mind "She's not well. She's been interned at a rehabilitation centre." Her worry came back. She cared deeply about her cousin, but that was not something she could control.
"I am sorry to hear about that" she didn't mean to sound as cold as she did "But why are you calling about that?" when the question left her lips she could almost hear the exasperation on the other end of the line.
"The parliament is forcing her to abdicate her claim to the throne. It's not going to be on the news for a while, not until she's made a recovery. But since she's the only close family that has a legitimate claim, I believe there's going to be consequences for your family and the country in general" his word made sense to Dalia. But she also knew that the person in her kitchen had doomed her to a life a politics and diplomacy.
"Thank you, Christopher. I appreciate it. But now I have to go. It's really nice to hear your voice." She said wholeheartedly and then hung up the phone. She went inside the house and went to the kitchen. She took out a hammer from the first drawer on the left and went back out to the yard. She heard Emmanuel's footsteps, but she needed to hurry.
Dalia snapped the flip phone in half and put the pieces on the floor and kneeled in front of it, before smashing them over and over again with the hammer. After the first few hits the device was as good as dead, but she couldn't stop hitting it. With each strike she released her anger and her sadness. She was not only letting out her grief over her life, but her concern for the closest thing she had ever had to a sister.
She didn't realize she was crying until the tears were falling on the floor, but she still kept trashing the mobile. She let out a sob that quickly turned into screaming. She was having an anxiety attack and she was letting the phone have it. She was having trouble breathing, but that did nothing to deter her actions.
"Hey, stop" a soft voice said while grabbing her arms delicately and forcing her to stop. She dropped the hammer on the floor, but kept crying uncontrollably. "Take a deep breath" Emmanuel said in a soothing voice and Dalia tried to do as instructed, but she let out a sob again and resumed her hysterical crying.
The man kneeled behind her and started rubbing circles in her back. Dalia grabbed her hair and pulled at it softly at first, but then she was almost tearing her hair away. Emmanuel rolled on his body to sit in front of her and grabbed each of her hands, pulling them away softly from her hair.
They stood there for a while, Dalia crying and him drawing soothing patterns on the palm of her hands. She started breathing by the rhythm his fingers were moving on her skin. After another couple of minutes the blonde stopped crying. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath before looking at the man in front of her.
"I am sorry about that" her voice sounded hoarse and it pained her to speak, but she still cleared her throat "thank you for your help" she swallowed hard, as if she was also swallowing her pride and squeezed his hands, that were still holding heirs. They remained silent for a few seconds more, before Emmanuel cleared his throat.
"Are you sure you are OK?" she wanted to nod, but she couldn't will herself to move. She started trembling and the man tightened the grip he had on her hand.
"It's nothing. Thank you again" she wanted to remove her hands from his, but he wouldn't let her.
"We don't have to talk about it, but even if it goes against the house rules, I am not leaving you alone" he pushed himself up using only his lower body strength, still holding her hands. He softly helped her up and let go of her hands. He put on of his on her lower back and led her inside and towards the couch. She sat down and put her feet up to her chest, looking ahead and nowhere in particular.
Emmanuel went to the kitchen and filled a kettle with water and put in on the stove. While he waited for the water to heat, he grabbed a mug and a bag of chamomile tea. He put a spoon of honey and the teabag in the mug and poured the hot water, mixing the liquid with a spoon. When he returned to the living room, Dalia had her head on her knees, her hands around them. He touched her back lightly, making her look up.
"Drink this" he handed her the cup and sat beside her, keeping a safe distance between him and her. Dalia didn't say anything, but gave him a weak smile. She didn't understand why he was being so nice to her, after all she'd done to him, but she was grateful that he was there with her.
She started thinking about her cousin. Emile had never been problematic. She was always in check. It had to do with the fact that she wasn't too smart, but she was always calm and collected. At least that's how Dalia remembered her. She started wondering how she had gotten to the point of being interned at a rehabilitation centre. The blonde couldn't shake the feeling that it was her fault.
"Breathe deeply, please" she hadn't realised she was starting to hyperventilate until he had spoken to her. She looked up at him and she saw concern in his eyes. She had never noticed the colour they were. It was a shade she had never seen before, they were almost grey, but not quite. When she realised she was staring, she blinked twice and looked down at the tea. She took a sip and swallowed, the liquid hurting her sore throat.
"It's my cousin." She said, but it sounded almost like a whisper.
"Emile?" When she nodded, he didn't press the conversation further. He leaned back on the couch and she turned her body so that she was facing him, crossing her legs one on top of the other, the cup still in her hands.
"She was interned at a rehabilitation centre. Christopher didn't tell me much" at the mention of the man's name Emmanuel's expression hardened for a split second, but it softened again as fast.
"She started using drugs a few months before you ran away, if that's what you're wondering" Dalia looked at him with a mix of curiosity and sadness. "I was on her detail before I was moved to yours for the trip" he added, explaining how he knew the information.
"But I cant help but think it's my fault" her voice broke on the last part and Emmanuel instinctively put his hand on her knee and clutched it lightly. Dalia didn't mind the gesture, but her eyes flew immediately to where he was touching her. He let go, but kept looking at her.
"It's not. That much I can promise you" he considered his next words "At first it was just marihuana, nothing too harmful, but still scandalous for a royal" he said the last part teasingly, making Dalia smile "but she quickly moved on to ecstasy, then something pink and synthetic, I don't know it's name. By the time I was removed from her detail she was doing cocaine on occasion." Hearing that made Dalia's heart clench. Silent tears started falling from her eyes.
She didn't respond to theinformation. She just rested her head on the couch and closed her eyes, lettingthe tears fall freely, not really caring if the man she needed to hate waswatching. At that moment she felt grateful for having him, even if he was thereto end her dream. She couldn't exactly pinpoint when, but the tiredness madeher fall asleep.
YOU ARE READING
72 Hours
Romance"That was so corny" That was Dalia's response. He took the bracelet and locked it in her wrist "And we've been engaged since I was 5" "Yes, I know. My parents felt the need to wait until I was in love and off age to tell me" he retorted. "See. I hav...
