A Dance in the Dark (Book 1)

Chapter 3

"You're crazy!" a female voice pierced through the tension, nearly screaming.

The two stood on opposite ends of the kitchen.

"Crazy? Isn't there anything different to call me?" The man's voice remained steady as he wiped a glass clean.

"Oh, isn't madness fitting enough for wanting to take Rosélina to another country?" her tone dripped to sarcasm, casting a glance before returning to the pile of dishes in front of her. "Sorry, dear, my apologies." The irony was palpable.

"Tom," she called out, watching as he fell silent, "she's staying, and if you want to leave, it's your choice. I understand, but Rosé stays, and this discussion ends here," she argued, heading to the living room, unable to bear the tension any longer.

Helena couldn't endure another moment in the suffocating atmosphere. She knew with all the certainty in the world that if she held onto another glass, she would shatter it against his calm, handsome face.

"Come back here, we're not done talking," he followed her. Her eyes rolling backwards in annoyance.

"That's the problem, isn't it? We never finish this conversation." She turned to face him, finding his dark brown eyes already on her, almost hidden behind square glasses.

They used to be the perfect couple.

Their daughter, Rosélina, was now thirteen, and their lives were marvellous. Living in a spacious flat in the town centre. Both held prestigious positions in the Government building, while Rosélina attended a top-tier private school.

A good, peaceful life.

Until Tom decided to return to England.

The problem began when the conversations passed the walls of the apartment. The neighbours knocking on the door and asking if everything was ok. Unwanted attention and looks in the hallways and lifts.

"If you want a reminder of why we left England," Helena's voice was strained. Her mouth pressed together in a straight line. Her arms were crossed, and her gaze was intense on Tom who did not keep eye contact. "I can provide you one."

Coward, she thought.

"You don't have to," he replied, adjusting his square glasses, pain darkening his brown eyes.

"Great."

"Helena—" he began.

"Don't come to me with 'Helena'" She paused for a second. Her breathing was heavy with the weight of unspoken emotion. "I made a promise, Tom, and I'll keep it. This has nothing to do with me or my desires, this has to do with Rosélina. She's ok here and happy. She has friends and family. You can't just come to me, and even her, after all these years and say you want to go back." Only the gods knew how exhausting she was from this conversation. Her voice tingling with despair. "London is not safe, and you know it very well." Her sweaty hands moved from her face back to her hips. Noticing she had raised her voice when silence prevailed again.

"We spent thirteen years living a quiet life here." Her hands were trembling over her mouth, fighting back the tears. "Far from it all, Tom. Everything." Helena gestured with her hands. "Every single devilish monster that... world created. If we go back, you know..." Her voice was no longer anger, but despair. Tears running down her warm cheeks. Helena fought to compose herself.

She held her hair in a ponytail, feeling her hands shaking.

Tom stood in the same position for a second or two. Thinking. Hands on his hips and watched the floor like ideas and thoughts were being written on them.

He stepped forward, moving towards his wife, and held her hands. Their warmness mingled like they were one. "She has to come back," he whispered, taking one of his hands to Helena's face, trying to dry her tears. Not needs or might.

She has to.

"Look at me." Helena denied. "This here is not us." Tom let out a sad laugh. "This is far away from who we are. Who I am and who she... who she is destined to become. I want her safety more than anything in this world, but things are not good in London or anywhere else."

His breathing.

It was heavy, like the wrong movement or word, or even thought would break the world apart and their feelings would come out. Tom, like her, was trying to control his emotions.

"No," she whispered. Unable to endure the thoughts of her daughter being torn away from her. Of Rosélina being away from her.

"We'll go in a month," he said letting go of her hand and walking away.

"Why don't you go first? Look at the situation in London. Talk to Prinze? Then I'll send Rosé," she countered.

"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Yes, she almost said. "That I don't know might vanish the moment I step on that fucking plane?" His accusation, hanging in the air.

His last words before loosening his tie and walking further away from her. The air grew ticker, suffocating them both.

"SO YOU'RE GOING TO ABANDON ME?" Helena screamed, watching as Tom stopped keeping his back to her.

He didn't look at her face.

He knew if he did, he'd regret it. He would look at Helena's face, her red cheeks of anger, her tears standing out in the light tone of her skin. He knew that her expression would shatter him. Make him give up on what he had planned for days, because, after all, Tom loved her. "After all I have done for you and her? Where do I stand in your flawless plan? Where's your love for me?"

Tom understood her behaviour.

Thirteen years had passed since the event that changed their lives completely. It was different now; he was sure of that.

He had to.

Silence filled the room. The room was still dark. The emotions were intense for someone to bother turning on the lights. Helena looked at Tom's back, watching his muscles tense, still waiting for an answer.

Part of her waited for him to turn around and tell her he wouldn't leave. That he was going to stay with her in Brazil. She expected an apology. An answer that would put an end to this discussion that had made her lose hours of sleep.

But nothing.

He didn't say anything.

"You will not take her." Helena wanted to scream, but she remained in place, back straight.

"We'll be leaving in a month," he repeated, heading towards the corridor.

"What have I done to you?" That was the sincerest question she had asked him in a long time. It was not about Rosélina she was thinking at that moment – it was about their relationship.

Taking her hand to her face and drying her tears, she waited.

Helena didn't know what to do with her hands or how to act. She was tired of this conversation. Tired of Tom's behaviour. She was, on some level, relieved at his going. There was no love there anymore.

Perhaps, never was.

Tom looked over his shoulder. The light from the outside brightened his profile. "The hunt began,"

Helena's heart missed a beat. "W-What?"

"We failed her."

"No," Helena covered her mouth, feeling the world fallingupon her. "No, we-we did everything right. We... we..."

Tom caught her before her knees hit the ground and pain overflowed the apartment. "The clock is ticking over our heads."