CHAPTER 55: THE NIGHTMARE

The moment Axel saw me, he straightened. "Where were you?" he asked.

I wrapped my coat tighter around me, feeling the documents press against my chest.

"Layla, you’ve been out all day. Where have you been?"

I looked at the man I’d married, a stranger who said he was protecting me while hiding things. I know he has my best interests at heart, but my mother’s warning played in my mind: be careful who you trust, even Axel.

"I need to go to my room."

"That’s not an answer. I asked where you were."

I stared at him blankly, my mind still replaying the moment my mother’s hand went limp in mine.

"Layla? Are you listening to me?"

"Can we just... can we talk tomorrow?" My voice sounded hollow even to my own ears.

"Tomorrow? Layla, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

I almost chuckled at the irony of it. If only he knew.

Talking about it felt like admitting she was really gone. So, instead of giving him a reply, I just started walking toward the stairs.

"Layla?" he called after me. "Layla!"

But I was already halfway up the stairs, feeling empty and just going through the motions like a zombie on my way to my room.

I shut the door and finally let myself fall onto the bed. I curled up with my coat still on, holding the documents tightly against my chest like a shield, even though they couldn’t protect me from what really mattered.

My mother’s confessions played over and over in my mind like a broken record.

The forced marriage, the poisoning, the adoption, and then that awful moment when her grip went slack. I couldn’t forget the way her eyes lost focus, and the light just went out.

I wondered how long it would take them to tell me. My father. Cassandra. How long would they pretend she was still alive?

The next day came and went. I didn’t move from my bed except to use the bathroom. Axel knocked on my door several times.

"Layla, you need to eat something."

I didn’t answer.

"The lawyer wants to discuss your case. There have been some developments."

Silence.

"I’m coming in."

"Don’t." The word came out in a whisper.

"What?"

"Please."

"Layla, what’s going on? You haven’t eaten, haven’t left the room and won’t even talk to me."

I stared at the ceiling, watching dust motes dance in the afternoon light.

"Is this about our fight yesterday?"

No response.

"Layla, say something. Anything."

"I’m just tired."

"You’ve been sleeping for fourteen hours."

"Still tired."

He was quiet for a moment. "Is it the case? Are you worried about the charges?"

I turned to face the wall. I wanted to tell him that was the least of my problems, knowing he had that handled, but saying that long sentence was like running a marathon. So I just sighed.

"I’ll be downstairs if you need anything," he said after a while.

The second day was the same. I managed to take a bath, but only because I couldn’t stand my own smell anymore. I changed into clean pyjamas and crawled back into bed.

There was still no word from my father or Cassandra; still no "official" news about my mother’s death.

Axel brought food to my door. "I left a sandwich outside. You need to eat."

I didn’t touch it.

"The police want to schedule another interview. I can put them off, but not indefinitely."

The sandwich remained untouched until evening.

"Layla, please. Just tell me what’s wrong."

"Nothing."

"That’s bullshit, and we both know it."

I pulled the covers over my head.

"Something must have happened for you to be this way. Just tell me what it is."

Silence.

"Why won’t you talk to me?"

"Because I don’t know who to trust."

There was a long pause after that. When he finally spoke, his voice was gentle. "You can trust me."

I closed my eyes. Could I? My mother warned me that he was also keeping secrets. And not telling me means he doesn’t trust me enough to share them with me.

"Maybe."

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe tomorrow."

By the third day, I could hear the desperation in his voice even through the door. "Layla, I’m calling a doctor."

"No."

"You haven’t eaten in three days. You won’t talk to me. You won’t leave your room."

"Fine."

"What?"

"I’m fine."

"Stop saying you’re fine when you’re clearly falling apart!"

I heard the door handle turn. I actually didn’t lock it, but Axel, being the gentleman he has been these past days didn’t try to open it.

But today, he did.

Axel stepped inside, and I saw his face change when he got a good look at me. I must have looked terrible: pale, hollow-eyed, like I’d aged ten years in three days.

"Jesus Christ," he breathed, rushing to the bed. "Layla, what the hell happened to you?"

I pulled the covers up to my chin, trying to hide.

"I already told the lawyer we’d reschedule," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "And I’ve been fielding calls from the police. I told them you were ill."

I nodded slightly.

"Some new suspects have been identified in Kendall’s murder. The investigation is moving in a different direction. They’re starting to think it might have been related to one of his other cases."

Another small nod.

"Layla, are you even listening to me?"

"Yes."

"Then respond. Say something. Anything."

"Like what?"

"I want you to tell me what’s wrong!"

"Nothing."

"That’s a lie." He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away. "Is it about the case? Are you worried about going to prison?"

I shook my head.

"Then what? Is it about our marriage? About the fight we had?"

Another head shake.

"Is it about your friend Erica? Is she in danger?"

"She’s okay."

"Then what is it? Please, just give me something to work with here."

I stared at the ceiling, feeling completely empty.

"Have you at least gotten any information about your mother’s health? I know you’ve been worried about her condition."

That did it. Something inside me cracked wide open, and suddenly I couldn’t stop the tears. They came in huge, gasping sobs that shook my whole body.

"Oh, good Lord," Axel said, immediately reaching for me. He didn’t ask what was wrong or how I was doing anymore, he just held me through it, rubbing circles on my back.

After what felt like an eternity, even though I’m sure it was just a few minutes, I slowly pulled away and wiped my tears with the back of my palm.

"I... I can’t talk about it yet."

"About what?"

"About what’s going on. It’s... It’s just... too much to process right now."

"Okay. That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about anything until you’re ready."

"Promise?"

"I promise." He held me tighter. "But I’m not leaving you alone, not like this."

"You don’t have to stay."

"Yes, I do. I should have realised something was seriously wrong sooner."

"You had your own problems to worry about."

"You are my wife... " he swallowed,"You are also part of my worries."

I looked at him through my tears, and for the first time in days, I felt a tiny bit less alone.

"I have meetings today," he said quietly. "But I’m cancelling all of them."

"Don’t cancel."

"Yes, I’m cancelling them."

Axel did just as he said.

That night, for the first time since losing my mother, I actually slept. But my sleep was plagued with nightmares. I kept seeing my mother’s face and watched her die all over again.

Not just that. My father was there too and each time, he stood over my mother’s bed with poison, smiling coldly as she gasped for breath.

The nightmares went on for days, plaguing me every night.

"NOOOO!" I screamed, bolting upright in bed, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Within seconds, Axel was rushing into my room. He’d gotten used to this routine over the past days: the screaming, the panic, and the way I’d wake up gasping and disoriented.

"It’s okay," he said immediately, switching on the bedside lamp. "You’re safe. It was just a dream."

I was covered in sweat, shaking all over.

"No... no, not again," I whispered.

"It wasn’t real, Layla. I’ve gat you."

"It felt real... it was...."

"I know. But that part’s over now."

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to stop the shaking.

"Can’t do this anymore."

"Do what?"

"Keep having these nightmares... I-I can’t keep seeing..." I stopped myself, taking a deep breath.

"It’s going to get better. I just wish you could tell me what this is about."

"What if they don’t stop? The dreams... what if..."

"They will. I promise you they will."

He moved toward the door. "I’ll get you some water."

As he walked out, my phone buzzed on the nightstand with a text message. I wondered who it would be at three in the morning.

I picked it up with shaking hands and froze when I saw it was from Daniel: ’We need to talk. Meet me at our old coffee shop tomorrow. It’s important.’