Shattered Illusions: Love, Lies, and Redemption

"The CEO helped Mrs. Dashiell into the car and then got in himself," Cedric hadn't finished his sentence when Lizetta, anxious, started running toward the hill. Cedric watched Lizetta's retreating figure and chuckled under his breath, rubbing his hands together before he headed toward Mr. Jackson's duty room in the back. There, Mr. Jackson had rigged up a small kitchen and was busy washing rice, preparing to make some porridge.

Cedric approached, "Mr. Jackson, do you think our boss and his wife will make up this time?"

""Ah, young folks' business, how would I know?"

"I reckon it's about time. Even if they don't reconcile this time, they're just one step away."

...

Meanwhile, Lizetta sprinted up the hill as fast as she could.

Reaching the top, she caught sight of that familiar figure. The man was in the same posture as the night before, kneeling rigidly in front of a gravestone.

His figure was stoic, his back serene, motionless.

The night's frost and the morning's mist had already soaked his hair and clothes.

The darkened fabric of his neatly pressed suit bore witness to his vigil. Hearing footsteps, he turned around, his deep, clear eyes as if cleansed by the mist, sharp and profound.

Just then, the first rays of morning sun finally leaped over the mountains, touching the man's handsome face.

Remington smiled at Lizetta, his lips curving into a genuinely happy arc.

"Liz, look, the sky's cleared up. Do you think Daisy has forgiven us?"

Lizetta's heart swelled, her emotions hard to keep in check. She ran to Remington's side.

"Yes, Daisy doesn't blame us. You won the bet, you fool! Now get up, do you want to lose your legs?"

Lizetta thought of Shirley Dashiell who had been forced to kneel at the family chapel, spending hours in the hospital afterward.

She hadn't expected Remington to be so stubborn as to kneel the whole night through.

She leaned down to help him up, but the man groaned in pain.© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

"Ouch! Don't move me!"

"What's wrong?"

Lizetta was startled, quickly letting go.

As soon as Remington was pulled up, his legs, without support, crashed back to the ground. Remington, "..."

His legs were numb, the sensation of thousands of biting ants overwhelming as Lizetta's pull seemed to reactivate his circulation. Unable to stand, he almost O collapsed right at her feet.

The pain was evident on his face, and Lizetta quickly realized her mistake.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to. Your legs are numb, right?"

As Lizetta knelt to massage

f.n

Remington's stiff calves, her attempt was cut short when his strong hand pressed against her lower back pulling her forward, knees hitting the ground as he enveloped her in his embrace.

Lizetta froze, Remington's chin resting on her shoulder.

"Liz, do you remember what I said last night?"

Lizetta could feel the cold

emanating from his body, unusual for early spring. The spring chill was harsh, especially in the mountains where temperatures plunged at night.

Touching his clothes, they felt like a layer of ice had formed.

The chill contrasted sharply with the heat of his skin against her neck.

Lizetta frowned, concern lacing her voice.

"Remington, are you running a fever? Let me go, I need to check."

Lizetta tried to push him away, but Remington didn't budge, keeping her firmly in his hold.