Fleur
The irritation that struck Fleur at the sight of the mirrored 's' was indescribable. How hard could it be to engrave a letter on a gravestone? Certainly, she could contact the funeral home and have it fixed, but she didn't have the energy.
Fleur hadn't had the energy to do anything for the past two weeks, except occasionally check on James's grave. The mere thought of spending time in her apartment filled her with dread, fearing that the police might decide to knock on her door. The hours that gradually passed had no meaning and served no purpose at all. She had more or less isolated herself from the outside world and had no plans to reach out to anyone for help. The risk of being charged with murder was too great. If the truth came out, it would ruin her entire life, and she strongly doubted that even the best lawyer could persuade the judges of her innocence. Fleur still had trouble understanding how it had all happened—whether it was stress, fear, or sheer anger that had fired the shot. Perhaps there was enough evidence to suggest that Mella had provoked the instinct.
Whenever she thought of her, her body ached. Fleur's greatest wish, of course, was to forget everything related to the incident, but in the moments when she tried to fall asleep, the terrifying thoughts returned to her. She had often done her best to piece together the vague memories of what had happened afterward but to no avail. Most likely, Mella had somehow driven her home, but she must have disappeared afterward, considering she hadn't made contact for several days.
An older couple passed her as Fleur finally decided to leave the cemetery.
No matter how she twisted and turned it, she had a hard time understanding that he was dead - Urban. Wasn't that what she had wanted from the beginning? Yet it felt as if she still wasn't entirely satisfied.
Suddenly, she stumbled at the stairs to the parking lot and scraped her palms in the process. Fortunately, the injury was only superficial, but the blood that slowly seeped through the skin was enough to lead her back to that evening, the car, the weapon, and the dead men in the corridor. The more Fleur thought about it, the stranger it became. She and Mella had never really had a deep conversation about any kind of plan. Everything had happened by pure chance - if these now turned out to be random coincidences. What troubled Fleur the most, however, was not all the puzzle pieces that didn't fit together and Gabriel's lack of knowledge about her existence. No. What puzzled her the most was that Mella hadn't sought her out afterward.
Fleur had been busy keeping all the emotional chaos separate, so she hadn't had time to reflect on what felt most natural. Perhaps Mella just wanted to give her time to heal on her own, but she could have at least called or sent a message. It didn't add up.
The red bus that stopped at the bus stop finally made her decide where to go. There were simply too many unanswered questions that would haunt her if she didn't get to the bottom of what was going on.
***
The architect-designed apartment building that towered on the hilltop was more majestic in daylight when the sand-colored facade and decorations captured the sun's rays in an enchanting way.
Fleur paused at the entrance and considered whether to take the stairs or the elevator but ultimately forced herself to climb the marble steps, which must have cost a fortune. It occurred to her that Mella might not be home due to the circumstances, but her doubts gradually diminished when she glimpsed light through the keyhole. She also noticed that the door was freshly painted, and the lock had been changed.
As always, she politely knocked and took a step back, waiting. Nervousness increased gradually as she realized that she hadn't planned where to start. She wanted anything but to interrogate her, but at the same time, she hoped for fruitful results. Something was not right.
No one opened the door despite several minutes of silence. Therefore, without further thought, Fleur acted and pushed down the handle. The door slid open silently, and she peeked cautiously into the living room. "Hello?"
The question hung in the air, and the deeper she ventured into the apartment, the louder the muffled sound of a vinyl record playing became. The band was unknown, although her father had introduced her to one or two old artists when she was a child. Memories took her back to a time she had tried to forget.
The song ended just as she found Mella absorbed in sorting clothes in the bedroom.
"Mella?" she tried, and this time, Mella reacted to her voice.
Fleur stayed where she was, and the expression on Mella's face lacked any human features when she turned to face her. She might as well have been staring into the walnut-shaped eyes of a porcelain doll. But before Fleur knew it, Mella changed, and the moment was over.
"What are you doing here? Are you okay?" Mella seemed to switch between confusion and sympathy as she put down what she was doing and approached. "I'm sorry; I meant to contact you after everything, but it's just been... quite tough."
Fleur ignored her attempt at an apology and tilted her head slightly to catch a glimpse of the suitcases on the bed. "Are you packing?"
Mella sighed wearily. "Yes. I think I need to get away for a while."
"You haven't..." Fleur began but then let the words die on her tongue.
"It's just you and me who knows what happened to Urban. You can trust me. I won't ruin your life."
Fleur observed her for a while in silence and wondered about the forced calm.
Mella straightened her shirt and then placed a hand on Fleur's shoulder. "I've completely forgotten to thank you. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along."
The weight of her fingers for some reason no longer gave her the same reassurance as her touch used to, and she shook it off.
It happened quickly, but not fast enough for her to register the glimmering light reflected in the lamp's glow. In normal circumstances, it wouldn't have interested her much, but she recognized the small piece of jewelry everywhere. It was custom-made—expensive and exclusive. There wasn't a single ring like it.
She reached for Mella's hand faster than lightning to make sure it wasn't just her imagination. "How did you get this?"
Fleur felt her breath catch, and she involuntarily took a step back. The brown eyes darted between the sight of the ring, which was slightly too big for her ring finger, and the ice-blue eyes.
A semblance of a smile finally appeared on Mella's face, and she waved off the question. "How do you think I got it?"
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, causing such a tremendous headache that she had to physically shake it off. A shiver ran up her spine, settling in every cell, and instilling fear in her body.
She glanced desperately around, searching for any objects that might buy her more time.
The hand-painted vase on the table was tempting to reach for, but her thoughts didn't progress beyond that before Mella was in front of her, pushing her against the table, and leaning over her with a satisfied grin.
She tilted her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. "Surprised?" Her voice was velvety, almost sensual.
Fleur refused to meet her gaze. She was aware that she exuded fear. Mella was so close now that she could feel her breath against her skin. The body heat generated through the fabric had once excited her, but it now had the opposite effect and gave her goosebumps. She tasted nothing but disgust in her mouth and closed her eyes, waiting for the moment to be over as quickly as possible.
Mella let out a short laugh that reminded Fleur of their first meeting and how naive she had been. Had she murdered him before or after their conversation? Fleur wanted to vomit. How could she have been so stupid? She should have listened to Gabriel from the beginning.
"Fleur..." The words formed in a frustrated exhalation, and it got worse when cold fingertips brushed against her jaw. "I don't want to hurt you," she purred as her thumb moved in circles around her carotid artery—softly but threatening enough that Fleur could feel death creeping closer with each passing second. If she wanted to, Mella could strangle her here and now and take her life within a minute. The wait was unbearable.
Everything Fleur thought she knew about Mella - if that was even her real name, was a massive lie. Had Urban hired her? It seemed reasonable, given their absurd conversation a few weeks ago.
Fleur had kept her eyes closed up to now, but when she glanced to the side, she had gathered enough courage to utter a few words. "Why?" she managed between uneven breaths.
The stranger's response to the question was a casual shrug, despite Fleur not knowing what she had expected. Assassins probably carried out their deeds without empathy. Who knows what had attracted her; money, information?
But the worst part was not that she had played with her all this time but also manipulated her into killing a person - for whatever purpose was entirely irrelevant. Just the thought that she had saved the life of her father's murderer made her want to be obliterated.
The stranger wasted no more time getting control and backed off after a while. The immediate space brought Fleur back to the present, and she regarded her suspiciously.
"If you'll excuse me, I'm quite busy."
She turned her back on her as if nothing had happened and went back into the bedroom to continue sorting. Fleur found it difficult to keep up with her rapid movements, and a part of her considered grabbing the flower vase and attacking her again, but all she could manage was to leave now that she had the chance.
Without wasting a second longer in the kitchen, she went straight to the hallway and out into the stairwell. Only then did she start running breathlessly.
The minutes merged into a jumble of different time spans as she made her way through the winding streets between the high-rise buildings. Right as it stood, Gabriel's house appeared in front of her. It didn't matter even though she had tried to avoid him for the past few weeks. Now his simple home happened to be her only safe point.
A pile of leaves displaying all sorts of beautiful autumn colors was piled up by the stairs, and a solitary bird peered down at the lawn as she finally decided to knock on the door. For safety's sake, she looked around in case her father's murderer had been shadowing her and breathed a sigh of relief when there was no sign of anyone nearby.
Gabriel was quicker to open the door than she had expected, and the moment their eyes met, they shared the unspoken fear that hung fragilely in the air.
Her trembling fingers automatically reached for his.
"Help me..."