IN THE MEMORY OF ANNE SCOTT

Dec 1989-Aug 2021

I reread the gravestone as I place a bouquet of white roses on her eternal bed. I'm not sure if I've grown cold-hearted or not, but my eyes don't seem to weep despite the fact that I'm here, wearing full black, to send her off. I just can't feel it.

Honestly, I didn't want to be here, but it felt like it's what I should do for my peace of mind. It's been raining heavily today, seemingly like a cold winter afternoon when everyone wishes to be home huddling with a blanket and cup of hot cocoa.

I still can't believe she's gone. Dead and gone.

Sadly I didn't get to give her what she truly deserved for stabbing me in the back. I'd be lying if I say I'm not begrudging about it, for she was one of the dearest people in my life. She had to pay for everything—both she and her lovers.

"I think you're better off wherever you are right now. You're not missing much here, trust me," I say as I rise up, staring at her grave, the whole cemetery in human silence after the departure of all the mourners due to the rain.

It's still raining, so the umbrella shields me somehow.

"If you were alive today, I think I'd have turned into a monster. Yeah, I was about to make a hell out of your life because you're an easier target compared to the enemy I'm facing." A small laugh escapes me as I take off the sunglasses. "But destiny had its plans, it so appears. In the end you cheated on the game of betrayal you started. Lucky you."

It pains as hell that someone I almost considered a sister turned to be the viper. Anne and I have been through a lot in our career journey. As much as I'd hate to admit her contribution to MK, it's an undeniable truth that she was a brilliant negotiator.

My only mistake was trusting her, believing in one's goodness over evil. But how to know who's a friend and who's a foe in this world we're living in? What colors do they possess?

"Farewell, old friend. Perhaps we're gonna meet in the afterlife so I can pull your hair and slap you more until you say sorry," I say and laugh at the same time, and a tiny teardrop slides off my cheek at the thought of my life after this moment.

Am I going to win this war?

I slip back in my car and pull on the seatbelt. Holding the steering wheel tight, I take a deep breath, bracing myself for the roller coaster coming my way. After a few minutes I drive back to MK where there's a lot to do and deal with.

A few days pass and my schedule becomes a housewife's chores. Work, home, work, home, repeatedly. I'd talk to my lawyer through the phone from time to time, and apparently the divorce suit is officially on the court register.

Finally!

But as expected, Patrick tore off the divorce papers when Hilary presented them to him. In the end, it's not gonna be a smooth ride; we're probably gonna have to meet in court. It's the toughest option as I'll need to prove my reasons, and he'll do all it takes to refute my allegations.

And during the so-called Mediation, where the spouses are being tried for the possible reconciliation, I meet Patrick after a while and it makes me sicker than before. He decides to play the victim, refusing all the claims I made with an emotional act of a caring husband.

"I don't want to lose my wife," he says, his deceivingly painful eyes glistening with moisture. "She's everything good in my life and without her I'll be nothing but an old man without any hope to hold onto for the few moments left in my life. I love her. I really do, so please don't allow her momentary anger to ruin our marriage of almost a decade."

I scoff incredulously. I'm too baffled to even say a thing so I watch his performance in awe.

"So you are trying to say that you're taking responsibility for your mistakes and fixing your marriage once and for all, is that it?" the mediator asks him. "That includes all of your cheating, and the fact that you've been a failure as a—"

"I never cheated on her. Everything has been in her head," Patrick accuses without batting an eye. My gaze widens and a laughter rumbles out of me. "She's always delirious about every woman she sees with me. I get it. She loves me that much. First it was my ex wife. I explained to her that she's the mother of my sons and we sometimes talk regarding them. And then it was her friend, whom I only met so I could understand if there was anything wrong with my wife. I needed Anne's help to understand you, Mia, and nothing more."

"Don't you dare turn me into a liar, you filthy swine!" I boom. The chaos inside me flames my blood into pure rage. "Delirious? What? Are you gonna try to say I'm mentally unstable and I'm making things up, huh?" I laugh like crazy, because I feel like it's where he's heading.

"Maybe you are, butterfly. Maybe what you need is help before I lose you completely," Patrick replies gently, his eyes staring at me piteously. "I told you I never cheated on you. I don't even know what else to do to make you believe what I say. Why do you insist on hurting yourself like that, my wife?"

I feel like exploding but if I let this anger consume me I'll really lose my mind. So I take a breath and say, "I know you're a rotten asshole, Patrick, but this is not gonna end the way you want it to be. Get it in your fucking head that I will never go back to you! Never again!" I yell at him loudly.

"Mrs. Kingston, I advise you to calm down or nothing good will come out of this," Patrick's lawyer, Alexander Maxwell, mutters.

"Oh shut up, you idiot!" I snap at him. "I know you get to wiggle the tail between your legs when he pays you handsomely, but that doesn't mean I need your opinion so shut the fuck up!"

Hilary beseeches me to calm down, holding my hand gently. Panting, I slowly recline back and try to relax. I can't stand this charade and I don't know why the hell we're gathered here.

"Mr. Kingston," says the mediator, a middle-aged dark skinned man with the most boring face I've ever seen. "What's the last thing you'd love to tell your wife?"

No, this is fucked up! I huff a laugh and glance aside, crossing my arms on my chest.

"That it's true I'm not a perfect man," Patrick replies. "It's true I haven't been around too much because of my business travels and we've somehow grown apart. But that's gonna change, my love, because I'm going to commit all of my time to you now. I told you that I'll do everything you want, go on my knees if I have to, just to see you back at our home. The house feels empty without you. Please stop this divorce madness, Mia, and let's fix this. We can do it, baby, and everything will be fine."

"Enough!" I rise up abruptly, banging my fists on the mahogany table separating me and him. "This little show of yours won't change anything, Patrick! Let it be known by everyone here that my decision stays. No more mediation and I want nothing but this divorce to proceed."

As I wait for my lawyer outside the courthouse, Patrick saunters closer to me while buttoning his immaculate suit jacket. My neck stiffens at the eruption of anger he evokes in me whenever he's in my vicinity. His preposterous look is back, no more theatrical façade.

"Hush, hush, butterfly," he says arrogantly, wearing a smirk on his face. "No need to be mad or you'll wrinkle that pretty face of yours." He tries to brush his knuckles against my cheek but I edge away.

"You can fool that scumbag you possibly bought, but don't think everyone will dance to your tunes," I tell him sternly. "If I ever come back to you, Patrick, then I'll be a dead body and nothing else. I'd rather cut my vein than kiss your old ass once again."

His jaw ticks and I can feel his urge to grab my neck and whisper his retort in my ear like a savage he is.

"Are you ready?" Hilary asks from behind me.

"Yes. So very ready," I reply and move.

The battle has finally begun. Hilary says it's nothing new; she's seen worse. I'm inclined to trust her words even though I can't say I'm not worried at times. Patrick will do anything in his power to rule this to his favor. I'm pretty sure of it.

"Don't worry too much," says Hilary as she sits down in my office this morning. "I'll have an interview with your workers and I need you to schedule it for me. If Anne Scott confessed in front of everyone about her affair with your husband, then it needs to be put in the records. And in the meantime, you need to think of anything that can prove Patrick's invalidity as a good husband he claims he is. Can you think of anything else?"

"I can name a few," I reply. "He never wanted kids, and I'm still a young woman in need to be a mom. My gynecologist can prove that. He's still reliving his marriage with his ex wife. I caught them fucking in his office and maybe I could use his old secretary to give a testimony. And on top of all, I still have all the evidence about his affair with Anne. The apartment he bought for her, and the monthly bank deposits he made to her account."

"Brilliant. Then we're onto a good start." Hilary smiles with excitement.

A heavy dizzy spell sends me back into my chair as I try to get up. Hilary squints her eyes, asking if I'm feeling alright. I nod swiftly, not knowing how long I can keep the fact that I'm pregnant. Will this divorce be over soon? I need it to end.

"I'm fine. I think I need to rest or something. It's been a hell of a week," I answer while pouring myself a glass of water.

"Maybe you should also see a doctor, Mia. You look pale. Understandable, though, you've been through a lot lately,"

"I guess. Let me walk you out," I offer.

"No need. Take a few minutes to rest," she says kindly.

When I wake up the next day, my body refuses to cooperate. The only thing I manage is to rush into the bathroom and throw my guts out. My mood changes dramatically and all I desire is to lay in bed and feel a certain warmth I desperately need.

Only one person comes to mind.

Mom brings me a chicken soup about an hour later but the smell disconcerts my stomach into another episode of nausea. I throw up again, and this time there's nothing much to bring out other than the water I've been drinking nonstop since yesterday.

Fuck!

"Honey, I'm worried about you," Mom says when she finds me buried under the blanket, the soup still on the bedside table.

I roll in bed to face him, and a small smile stretches my lips a bit.

"I think I'll be okay by afternoon. Just let me rest, huh? I'll eat something later; it's the fucking morning sickness," I mutter weakly.

"Look who's lecturing who. I gave birth to you, Missy, and I watched your Aunt Lana giving birth to your cousins," Mom scolds, and we both laugh for a change. And then her face softens as she says, "If you keep feeling like this by afternoon, we're going to the hospital. Agreed?"

"Yeah." I nod.

"Okay, rest now. I think I should go to the market and buy more groceries. Maybe something different will work. You can't stay empty stomach," Mom mutters, more to herself.

Whatever she decides. I just know I can't swallow anything right now.

"Or maybe. A little something to cheer her mood will do," Kenna rumbles as she pops in unannounced. Big grin on her face, she's holding a large bouquet of fresh and bright flowers. "I think you got an admiral, Mamacita."

I crinkle my eyes, intrigued. Flowers for me? It's not my birthday, and they certainly shouldn't be from Patrick or I'll throw up again.

"Hmmm, I wonder who it is," Mom utters calmly.

I sit up, accepting the beautiful bunch of cheery and bright multi flowers that smell like a spring blossom. There's a card too, and the two ever curious women beside my bed look like a pair of nosy grannies waiting for me to read it out loud.

"Some privacy please?" I whisper.

"As if! Just read the damn note so we can know who it is, c'mon!" Kenna cries.

I roll my eyes and sigh. "It says . . . PLEASE BE HEALTHY. YOU'RE ALWAYS ON MY MIND . . ." My voice trails at the name written.

"Aw! The name?" Kenna urges, and as I blush to myself she grabs the note and reads it out. "Mister . . . Hunter? Who's Mister Hunter?" She looks at me sharply.

Who else? It's Raiden Hunter.

I break into a mirthful laugh, butterflies fluttering their pretty wings in my tummy. Goodness! He can be mischievous and romantic. Mr. Hunter!

"Um. I don't know who it is," I reply, dismissing the issue. "But fine. Let's say he's a secret admiral."

I miss him every single second.

Loneliness surrounds me the moment Mom and Kenna leave my room. Red and I made an agreement to stay away from each other but it's getting too difficult to comply. If I don't see him I get sick as I am right now. Whether it's foolishness or not, I know I need him more than I thought.

Just why can't I be emotionally independent, dammit? His deep voice coos me through the phone when I call him. How do I ever stay away, huh?

"Thank you for the flowers, Mr. Hunter," I tease.

"You're never calling me that again," Red snaps amusedly. I giggle. "I'm serious."

"We'll see. The flowers are lovely." I inhale their soothing scent.

"I'm glad. Are you alright? I heard you didn't go to work today," he inquired, and there's nothing I can do without his knowledge, near or far. This man! "The truth, Mia. Don't think of lying to me because—"

"I'm not alright," I breathe, wishing he was here.

"Why? Are you sick? How exactly do you feel?" His hysterical voice draws my smile.

"I miss you," I murmur weakly before I release a long sigh. "I feel so sick and tired of everything. I just want to . . . I wish I could just pack everything and leave. Would you go with me if I ask you to?" I tease.

Red laughs gently. "And then what? You'll give up on everything you've strived to build up until now? What about your freedom? Do you think you're ready to live like a fugitive?"

"A fugitive of marriage? That's iconic. Only you could think of that."

"Part of my many charms, don't you think?"

I giggle. "Stop being a smartass. Answer my question instead. Will you elope with me?"

"No. I'll fight by your side until you're a free woman I can run away with. I'm dying to hide you in the woods of Arkansas away from the city noise. You can't stay there for good, but a good while will do."

"Arkansas. Is that where you come from?" I ask him, my mood suddenly feels like a beach walk during sunset.

Calmed and relaxed.

"Yeah," he answers.

"Tell me more."

"About what?"

"Anything. Where you come from. What you did before coming to Portland. Just anything."

"Right now?"

"Yeah?"

"You're at home, right?"

I frown. "Yeah?"

"Okay." After a long silence he finally says, "Expect me there in ten minutes. I miss you too."