HEIRLOOM

Chapter 8

As the darkness descends and the night sky takes over, I return to our friend's house, heart brimming with elation at having finally solved the enigma that has plagued me for days. No, the culprit has not been brought to justice yet, but at least I'll be more vigilant and unyielding in the future.

The clock strikes seven in the evening, marking the end of a long, arduous day. My spirit is high, but my body is drained and dirty; my face is caked with dusty grime, and my hair is tousled and unkempt from the day's adventures.

"Where have you been all this time?" Gabriela greets me on the porch with a smile, a small kitten in her lap playing innocently. "I was starting to get worried."

From the backyard, children's voices fill the air as the house lights flicker off.

I approach the purring kitten gingerly, only for it to launch off Gabriela's lap and flee into the darkness.

"Oh no," Gabriela frowns at me. "That was the neighbor's cat, and such a darling too."

"It'll be back," I reassure her wearily, slowly ascending the weathered wooden steps of the porch.

"Did you find the camera?" she asks, falling into step beside me.

"Yes, it was right there," I reply, taking in the serenity of the silent house. The only sounds that pierce the stillness are the steady tick-tick-tick of the kitchen wall clock, and the muted murmuring of the TV from the living room.

Gabriela persists with her questions, "Did you go anywhere else?"

"What else could I do, love?" I reply with a note of annoyance. "Just taking pictures, like I always do." I trudge up the stairs to our room, in dire need of a change of clothes.

Gabriela's eyes light up at the mention of the pictures, filled with pure curiosity and excitement, "Will you show them to me!"

Her eagerness prompts her to trail after me as I ascend the stairs, a faint grin playing on her lips.

"I want to see my hometown with your eyes," she enthuses, resting her chin on her palm as she peers over the banister. 

"Sure, I will," I say, my voice betraying my fatigue. "But first, I need to eat. I'm starving."

As I step into our room, I opt for a fresh t-shirt and a comfortable pair of cotton pants.

Despite my hunger, I can't quell the unease churning in my gut. The weight of the truth finally presses down on me like a ton of bricks, and I realize that I've been hiding things from my wife for far too long. The realization sinks in that someone is threatening us, and the accident with the shard might have been just the beginning. The thought of a psychopath lurking around and targeting us worries me deeply, and I wonder what their next move would be.

I know I can't keep up the charade any longer. No matter how foolish I may appear to Gabriela, I need to come clean and stop keeping secrets. Fueled by a renewed sense of determination, I contemplate the best approach to reveal the truth and devise a plan to handle the predicament at hand.

As I enter the kitchen, the remnants of dinner are scattered across the table. Gabriela is taking care of a few plates by the sink, and I approach her cautiously.

"Where is everyone?" I ask, keeping my voice low.

"Kristeen is still watching TV, the kids are playing outside," she replies, her tone calm and even. "Alex and Isabel have gone to bed."

"Ah, ok!" I twist the cap off the bottle of Coke and indulge in a long sip, hoping to distract myself from my swirling thoughts. The food on my plate offers no solace, nor does the suffocating silence that blankets the dining table. I slowly pick at baked potatoes and chicken on my plate, seeming to have no taste and smell to me. Gabriela draws closer, pouring herself a glass of sparkling water with lemon.