The Prince's Pursuit (David Walliams)

Chapter Five

For the past two weeks, Callista had accepted the fact that her life was much better in Manchester. Given that roaming around the globe for the last three years had broadened her perspective, from India to Africa and various countries with massive knots regarding the welfare of children and endangered animals, her heart still belonged in London.

Her foundations in United Kingdom were non-stop and the huge predicament with BGT was also as heavy, albeit she love her work but she was also human and needed a tad bit of rest.

"Hey," she calls over the phone as she rubbed her aching temples. Her voice throaty as she coughed.

"Hello, sweetie. Is something wrong?" Alesha's voice was laced with worry. "You sound sick."

Callista bunched up another pair of tissue paper in her hands and blew her nose.

"Y-yeah about that... I think I'm not coming today." She sniffed, groaning as she felt a ringing pain on her temples.

"Alright. I'll tell the others. Do you need some help? I could come and assist you later." Alesha offers.

"No, no. It's fine. All I need is rest. Lots of sleep." She assures as her thermometer beeped, picking it under her armpit, she nearly threw the device in frustration but her arms were too weak to do it.

"If you're sure. But I'll call later again to check up on you."

"Thanks, Lesha."

"No worries, babe. Rest well."

The line went dead and Callista's hand slumped on her mattress. Her room was still dark and gloomy, her curtains are yet to be opened.

She begrudgingly got off her comfortable bed and staggered towards her window, clutching on her flimsy nightie for what little heat it could offer. Her feet was bare and it felt cold against the marbled floors.

She pulled the drapes aside.

"Bloody hell." She whined as her watery eyes closed tightly, her head aching much worse.

"It just had to be freaking bright." She glared at the sun, her temperature rising.

"Mreow."

She walked towards her vanity and took a good look. She looked sick, alright. Her usual rosy complexion was bright red, eyes watery, and lips shivering.

She exhaled numbly before brushing her hair with her fingers.

"Just feed Cleo and you're off to sleep." She tells herself softly, watching her eyes flicker.

Nodding, she padded her way towards her door and opened it, a white feline almost jumping at seeing her owner. She purred and rubbed her head on her leg.

"No playing today, love. Mommy's sick." Callista supplied as she picked the cat up and went down the stairs.

Callista nearly toppled over the staircase and used the railings for dear life, her vision blurry.

•••

"I'm worried."

David bit the pad of his thumb, his right feet tapping impatiently. He turned to Alesha who frowned at her phone.

"Maybe she's asleep." Simon piped, offering a bit of assurance. "She did tell you that, didn't she?"

"But she's a light sleeper. Any sound or ruckus would've waken her up." Amanda argued, crossing her legs.

"And she always keeps her phone near her." Alesha added.

David couldn't ignore it. He knew something was terribly wrong the moment he stepped in the London Poladium and Callista nowhere to be found. His jaw was tense and knuckles curled tightly.