"sometimes love means letting go—not because you want to, but because holding on would destroy you both."
Unknown
Chapter 57
By noon, the story was everywhere. Everyone was talking about the vandalization of the young doctor's hospital and the destruction of the legacy of the older Dr. Waverson.
Sitting in the dining room having my lunch, I listened as the domestic staff talked about it, and it took everything in me not to yell out in anger and frustration.
How could one family, one man, hold an entire city to ransom? But I couldn't react, more for Jacobi's benefit than my own. I was all cried out from the morning anyway.
My heart and spirit were broken.
And so I just sat there, like a statue, as they talked.
"Zeynep, you're not eating your food," madam remarked, taking a seat next to me at the table.
I looked at her, surprised.
Madam Maria has vowed never to sit at the table, after what happened the last time, not even when she was invited.
But whatever she had to say to me apparently had enough gravitational pull for her to defy her own principles.
And I was right
.
"The media and townsfolk are talking," she whispered, leaning close. "They are saying that what happened to the doctor's hospital was because of you. One of his nurses has been gossiping about how the two of you were…were very close."
I was taken aback, surprised that Jacobi and I had not been as discreet as we'd thought. But it didn't matter what they were saying, how many people were saying it, or how my natural instinct would ordinarily have been to confide in my older friend.
I knew I had to protect the man I loved.
"Not at all, me and the doctor? No o! Whatever gave them that idea?" I exclaimed, hoping I sounded convincing.
But from the way she looked at me, I apparently didn't.
"Just lay low, I beg you," she said, her eyes wide in her alarm. "You know what happened the last two times. For the next few days, just stay in your room and lock your door. There can't be a repeat of -"
"There can't be a repeat of what?" came the voice neither of us wanted to hear. Probably ever.
Ibrahim.
Madame Maria's eyes grew even wider, all suggestions of me keeping a low profile dying on her lips. It was too late for that anyway.
The Armageddon we were running away from was already upon us.
"Oh nothing, Sir," madam said, shooting to her feet. "I was just telling zeynep about…about something that happened to my sister."
Ibrahim smiled, a wry, knowing smile. "Is that so? Your sister?" was his sarcastic retort. "Well, you can continue your discussion later. I'm sure you have other things to do than to sit comfortably in your employer's dining room, gossiping."
"Sorry, Sir," she bleated as she scampered out of the room.
Alone with Ibrahim, I knew I should have felt fear, especially considering our very recent history.
But, at that point, my anger was greater than any fear.
All I wanted to do was to stab him in the chest with the fork in my hand.
All I wanted to do was damn the consequences and end the life of the man who had tormented me for twenty years.
"Zeynep, did you hear about what happened to your friend's hospital?" he exclaimed in exaggerated surprise.
"After all the money I hear he pumped into the place? Gosh! That is such a shame, isn't it? Who on earth could have done that to him?"
I focused my attention on my plate, knowing it was better for me to busy my fork with food than what I really wanted to do with it.
"This city is just not safe anymore," he said, a broad smile on his face. "And did you hear that they beat up one of the doctors there? Beat him to a pulp, o! Left him almost unrecognisable."
I turned to look at him, expressionless. "I heard."
"You heard," he echoed me, the smile on his face dimming. There was now anger in his eyes, and I held my fork tight, ready to stab him if he blew air in my direction.
"So, what did you do when 'you heard'? Have you gone to give him comforting hugs and kisses?"
My gaze didn't even waver. "At the appropriate time, my husband and I will go to express our sympathy and offer whatever assistance we can. Don't forget that his father was a close family friend."
Ibrahim and I remained in an eyelock for several moments, neither party willing to even blink. But eventually, he chuckled. "You have a very, very short memory, zeynep. You both should count yourselves very lucky indeed."
As he walked out of the room, I didn't even feel any relief. I was simply fed up living that kind of life after so long.
What crime had I even committed to warrant me being held in oppression, no better than a prisoner?
Women who had done far worse than me were at least given the option to leave their marriages.
Even if I was being kept as payback for what the minister spent on Orion medical treatment & school, surely, after twenty years, it should have been all paid up.
Those were my thoughts as I lay in bed later that afternoon, staring at the ceiling. I knew Ibrahim would be trying to get in touch with me, that he would be worried about why my phone was switched off and would naturally be fearing the worst.
But as much as it broke my heart, it was better for me to leave him alone.
Even if I managed to finally leave Boston, it was better to fear only for my own life, and not his in addition.
Yes, he was the love of my life, yet it was because of this love that I was letting him go.
But I knew I would never love another man like that again.