Chapter Six

The moment the elevator to Zaki's penthouse suite slide open after his long day of photoshoot, a frown framed his handsome face when he saw that his front door stood ajar. He stepped out and covered the short distance to the door, moving cautiously as he did. He knocked. “Freya?” The place was dark, and he heard a noise, but it wasn’t an acknowledgment. He stepped in, still proceeding with caution until he flipped on the lights and reeled with shock.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed.

His central hallway looked like it had been the site of a ticker-tape parade with a dash of something extra. The glossy hardwood floor was littered with scraps of paper and pieces of broken glasses. Moving past that chaos, he marched to his living room and froze. His 82 inches smart TV had been destroyed with a baseball bat, leather chairs had been ripped open with a kitchen knife which still stuck to the bottom of one of the three overturned chairs in the room, and more paper littered the place. Half the drinks in his minibar had been shattered, and the other half was missing. Somewhere he could hear water running and just as he was about to take out his phone to dial the cops, his eyes caught a glimpse of Amelia's picture on one of the countless pieces of paper on the floor. He bent down and picked it up. It was the cover page of a glossy magazine; the first eight letters of the word Engagement were printed on it, along with a page number.

“No, no, no, no.” he shut his eyes and focused on his breathing, still hoping someone had broken into his place or Amelia had probably done this in a fit of madness, anyone but Freya. She couldn't find out about everything like this. Freya deserved better. He glanced around once more and noticed that the pages of the magazine were what had been made into confetti and strewn everywhere.

A loud crash from somewhere in the suite jolted him from his internal battles. He got to his feet and turned to see a striped cat curiously peering around the wedge between the door frame and the door to the kitchen.

“Milo,” he hurried to pick up the feline he'd gifted her about five months ago. “Where's your mommy? Hmm? Is Freya in there?”

The cat didn't even meow back before it turned its proud head to something else in the room. It felt like the animal could sense his betrayal but decided not to bother with him. Nevertheless, they went into the kitchen together. In there, he drew up short. The place had also been vandalized, but not with confetti. Every single grocery from his refrigerator and pantry had been dumped on the floor and crushed. The tap was left running, and a glass plate was broken. He figured the cat must have been guilty of that since the remaining plates were still neatly stacked against each other. 

Hastily, he ran into the room they both shared and checked the closet, where he found nothing. Both their clothes and shoes, several unpacked boxes, and bags were gone. The bathroom was likewise empty. The cream-colored fixtures, fluffy towels, and feminine accouterments on the dressing table were all gone.

He found his clothes, though. Somehow everything he owned had been dumped in his bathtub filled with water and wine from all the missing bottles in his bar. Every room he entered after that had a different type of trashing to it, and by the time he was done checking the place, he was certain that Freya had been the one behind it. 

Downtrodden, he dropped the cat, sunk to the floor, and lowered his head as he tried to process everything. It took her long enough, but she found out. Freya was one of those people who took their anger out on inanimate objects. In the past, she'd broken a few things whenever they got into an argument--which happened rarely--but this level of damage took the cake. She was obviously hurting badly, and it was all his fault. 

*****

London,

3:00 pm.

 Freya hurried through the hospital doors knowing it’ll be only a matter of time before he came scrambling after her.

At the elevator, she pressed the number three, impatiently watching it illuminate. 

The doors opened to the third floor, and she smiled at the nurse on duty, watching her expression as she sent her a jovial smile. Her mom's liver disease had made her a regular at St. Thomas Hospital.

She passed the supply room and the chapel and the employee break room, knowing it would be all for the last time.

She continued down the hallway and kept her gaze forward and her heart brave as she tapped lightly on her mom's room door before entering.

“Freya,” the older woman called out to her, stretching forth a hand, which she took and kissed. “I don't understand, what's going on? Why are we leaving?”

“Because we have too, mama.”

Her mom rose a worried brow, ignoring the body pains she'd been feeling all morning as she studied her daughter's countenance.

Freya was currently gripping her hands tightly, and it looked to the woman like she was depending on it for support. Her eyes were wide and watery, and her face was pale, bringing into stark contrast a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks that she hadn’t noticed in a while.

“Alright, princess.” The woman struggled to sit up with Freya's assistance. “Let's go.”

“How are you feeling though?” 

“I'm okay. Have you spoken to the doctor?”

“Yes, and I already made arrangements for you in another hospital.”

Her mom sighed. “Where's Zaki, Freya?”

“I don't know, and I don't care.” she wanted to add that he was probably in a luxury store trying out his wedding suit, but she changed her mind. She'll have to break the news to her mother slowly. “I prefer not to talk about him, mama.”

“But what's wrong? If you tell me, I'm sure I can call him to straighten him out.”

“No!” she yelled, startling the woman. “I'm sorry. Where's your phone?”

Her mom took it out from under the pillow where she'd kept it. “You're going to delete his number, aren't you?”

“No, I'm throwing the entire thing away.”

“But--”

“We have a train to catch by six, mama. When we get to our destination, I'll get you a new one.”

****