Our Bodyguard|18+

Fifteen

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."