Chapter Eight: Mixed Emotions

Emily woke up from her sleep. Her eyes darted around the room, there was no sign of the man's presence in this room. Maybe the man has been gone since morning.

A few hours later, the maid knocked on her door.

After letting them in, the maid helped Emily to tidy the room. They prepared the bathtub and the clothes he would wear. After they finished putting everything in, they quickly left the room.

Emily slowly got up and walked to the bathroom. She took off her nightgown and got into the tub. Her eyes stared at the mirror in front of her.

She saw bruises and redness on her body.

She then saw both of her wrists that were still red like the marks of a rope tie.

Suddenly her tears flowed out without stopping. She don't know why she suddenly started crying. She felt pain, hate and contempt at the same time, she was also disappointed.

Her mind was confused and empty as if her ability to think had been messed up.

"I fell in love for the first time. I was also hurt for the first time because of love." She said with tears streaming down her face.

She hugged her body that was shaking from crying.

"Mom!!! Milly misses you so much."

"After this deal is done. Emily will take mom abroad for medical treatment. We can also start a new life and forget all this." Emily mumbled softly.

Her eyes dimmed like someone who had given up hope.

The morning sun painted the villa in warm hues as Emily sat alone at the breakfast table. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the delicate scent of pastries, creating an illusion of normalcy in the tranquil setting.

However, the facade of serenity masked the storm brewing within Emily's thoughts.

Her gaze lingered on the untouched plate before her, the clinking of cutlery echoing in the silence. The solitude of the villa, once a sanctuary, now magnified the weight of her thoughts.

In the quiet moments between sips of coffee, Emily's mind traveled to a place far beyond the villa's walls—to a hospital room where her mother lay in a persistent coma.

As she mechanically speared a piece of fruit, Emily's thoughts wove through the memories of her mother's warmth, the laughter they shared, and the profound void left by the abrupt silence that now enveloped her mother's presence.

The sunlit ambiance of the villa's dining area felt incongruent with the shadows that lingered in Emily's eyes. Each bite of breakfast carried a bittersweet taste, a reminder of a time when the simplest moments were shared with her mother.

In the solitude, a solitary tear traced a path down Emily's cheek, falling onto the pristine tablecloth. She fought to stifle the rising tide of grief, her breath catching in the quiet echoes of the villa.

A surge of memories engulfed her—the last words exchanged, the dreams shared, and the hope that clung stubbornly to her heart.

Amidst the haunting silence, a distant echo of the villa's tranquility, Emily whispered words of love and longing to the empty chair across from her.

The weight of her emotions painted the room in shades of sorrow, a canvas of unspoken pain that contrasted sharply with the façade of elegance.

The morning breeze rustled the curtains, casting a gentle dance of shadows across the room, as if nature itself mourned the absence of a familiar presence.

Emily's fingers traced the rim of her coffee cup, a connection to a world that now seemed fractured.

As she gazed into the garden beyond, the vibrant blooms held a muted resonance—a reflection of life persisting amid the inevitable cycles of loss and renewal.

The solitude became both a refuge and a prison, the walls of the villa echoing with the silent cries of a heart grappling with the weight of grief.

In the recesses of her mind, Emily clung to the hope that breakfasts in the villa would one day be shared again—the laughter, the warmth, and the simple joy of companionship.

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The afternoon sun cast long shadows through the windows of the villa as Emily hesitated, clutching her phone tightly. The number for Mrs. Stone's rang, each tone a heartbeat that seemed to echo the uncertainty in Emily's chest. Finally, a connection was made, and the distant voice of Mrs. Stone's filled the air.

"Hello?"

The formality in Mrs. Stone's greeting hung in the air, a cold barrier that Emily felt acutely. Swallowing her apprehension, Emily began, "Mrs. Stone's, it's Emily. I wanted to ask for your permission to visit my mother at the hospital. There have been some changes, and I..."

Before Emily could finish her sentence, Mrs. Stone's cut in, her voice devoid of warmth, "Visiting hours are limited. Make it quick."

The curt response landed heavily on Emily, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil she was already experiencing. "Thank you, Mrs. Stone's. I'll make sure to adhere to the visiting hours," Emily replied, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure.

As Emily prepared to end the call, Mrs. Stone's voice interrupted with a detached directive, "Don't let your personal matters interfere with your duties here."

Emily's heart sank at the harshness of Mrs. Stone's words, a cruel reminder of the strict boundaries that defined her place in the villa. "I understand, Mrs. Stone's," she replied, the weight of unspoken emotions tightening the knot in her throat.

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The call ended, leaving Emily with a hollow ache. She couldn't shake the feeling of isolation—the vulnerability of her situation laid bare in the cold reception from Mrs. Stone's. Gathering her strength, Emily set aside the phone, the air thick with unspoken tensions.

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AT THE HOSPITAL

In the sterile hospital room where her mother lay, Emily navigated the unfamiliar territory of conflicting emotions. Her mother's fragile form seemed to underscore the fragility of their connection, a stark reminder of the hurdles she faced not only in her personal life but within the confines of the villa.

As Emily sat by her mother's bedside, the rhythmic beeping of medical equipment punctuated the silence. The stark hospital environment heightened the contrast with the elegant villa where she served—a world where compassion and empathy seemed elusive.

In the quiet moments with her mother, Emily whispered words of love and longing, her hand reaching out to grasp the fragile thread that connected them. The cold reception from Mrs. Stone's lingered, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of solace.

As the hospital walls enclosed her, Emily grappled with the profound isolation—the dichotomy of a life split between duty and personal despair. The gulf widened, and the echoes of Mrs. Stone's cold response reverberated in her mind, a haunting refrain in the soundtrack of her struggles.

With each passing moment, Emily navigated the conflicting currents of her responsibilities and the deeply personal journey she was traversing. The hospital room became both a haven and a prison—a place where the complexities of her life intersected with the unyielding demands of the villa.

In the muted light of the hospital room, Emily found solace in the tender moments shared with her mother, while the specter of Mrs. Stone's cold detachment lingered in the periphery—a stark reminder of the intricate web of duty and personal anguish that defined her existence within the confines of the villa.

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