I was shocked as the letter engulfed me in a deep ocean of despair and put me in a situation where I was unable to move even an inch of my body. The information in that letter wasn't even enough to ruffle a single strand of my wife's hair. Her expression made me suspicious.
"Woah! I am shocked. You really are damn brave. You didn't even bat an eye after hearing this." I said.
"So, what else do you expect?" my wife replied casually. Her calmness made my heartbeat faster—not with love, but with fear and suspicion.
"I know a worm of suspicion has already entered your mind. So just spit out whatever's there in that mind of yours," my wife asked directly.
Her question made the atmosphere more tense and vivid. Perhaps it couldn't just be a coincidence for a renowned news channel to dig into a case that had been closed many years ago.
More importantly, they could have simply gathered the information and published it. But instead, they were more interested in interviewing the person who had investigated it. My name had never been disclosed anywhere—then how?
"If you are ready to tell me everything then, I don`t have any question. Just tell me everything". "I don`t have enough energy or desire to tell you everything in detail but I can tell you the important details" my wife replied.
"If you are ready to tell me everything, then I don't have any more questions. Just tell me everything,"
I said.
"I don't have enough energy or desire to tell you everything in detail, but I can share the important parts," my wife replied.
Her reply felt like a gift wrapped in mystery and hesitation. I wanted to unwrap it, but I knew it wasn't the right time. This plan wasn't formed in my mind—it was whispered by her eyes into my ears. "Ok, my lady, please go ahead," I replied.
"The important part is that I have a friend whose husband works at The Headline Hub. From her, I learned that the channel is investigating a long-closed case called The Dead Mountain. She told me her husband is the one assigned to dig it out. So, I simply advised her that my husband knows a lot about it. That's all."
"Is that all, my lady? Then may I have the honour of asking you a question?" I asked.
"Oh, come on, go ahead," she replied like a queen, to hide the resentment and grief that were engulfing her.
"Then how did they find out that I was the one investigating it?" I asked. Her face, which had been surrounded by sorrow yet still smiling, suddenly changed.
She was shocked and scared. The smile stretched across her face withdrew, handing its place over to silence and despair.
"What? How did they get to know that? Give me that letter," she demanded, jumping off the sofa.
"It's here in my pocket," I replied with a smile.
She snatched the letter from my hand. "How can you smile in such a tense situation?"
"Am I the one who invited it?" I asked mockingly.
"Oh, shut up! I didn't know it would go this far," she replied furiously, and began to read the letter.
Knock! Knock!
"Oh God, another knock. Did you tell someone else about it, or is it another letter from some news channel?" she asked nervously.
"Shut up and open the gate—it might be Leo with Noella."
"Ooo, you mean the root cause of all problems?" I said.
"How do you know that Noella's husband works there?" my wife asked in shock.
"Just a guess. Maybe I'm right," I answered, my eyelids clenched and a bright smile forced across my face. I walked toward the door.
"Coming…" I opened the gate. There stood my little tiger, ready to leap on me, and that chatterbox, Noella Weinstein.
"Good evening, Mr. Anderson. I feel delighted to meet you," she said. "My apologies, Mrs. Weinstein, that my son was not able to keep you as delighted as I do," I replied.
"Oh, Mrs. Anderson, you are always like this," she laughed. In the middle of this exchange, my son jumped on me and insisted that I escort him to my wife.
"At first, we should see off Mrs. Weinstein, don't you think, my son?" I suggested.
"Not right now, Mr. Anderson. I have something to discuss with Bella," Mrs. Weinstein replied.
She rushed toward my wife, held her hands, and dragged her into the nearby room. She closed the door so hurriedly and harshly that the sound of it shutting rang in my ears. My son and I exchanged a glance, and with mutual understanding, we decided to eavesdrop on their conversation. We were about to put our plan into action when suddenly, the door opened.
Our feet froze. My wife stepped out and said sweetly, with a warning tone and a dangerous smile, "I would cut off your ears if either of you dared to eavesdrop on our chat."
Again, my son and I exchanged a glance and silently agreed to abandon our plan. Instead, we diverted our steps toward the kitchen to cook and eat something truly edible.
I went to the fridge and took out some eggs, last night's stale rice, a few carrots, one capsicum, plenty of peas, two tomatoes, and two peeled onions. I lit the gas stove, placed a frying pan on it, and began slicing all the vegetables. After some time, I added mustard oil, cumin seeds, and sliced chilies into the pan.
"Daddy, that aroma has awakened the mice in my tummy. Make it quickly!" my son exclaimed. I patted his head and went back to my work.
Then I put the rice into the pan and fried it. Alongside, I fried some chicken legs mixed with spices. When both were ready, I took them off the stove, placed another pan on the flame, and poured in some olive oil. I cracked an egg and let it sizzle; its aroma filled the room. I made three Japanese-style omelets.
Finally, I prepared a soup using soy sauce and vinegar, along with sliced vegetables and fried soy chunks. Everything was ready to be plated.
INSIDE THE ROOM DURING THIS TIME -:
(Both of them went toward the table, where two chairs were placed on either side of a round table. On it sat a vase of roses and a plate of cookies. The table was near a large window decorated with climbing plants. The window was open, and a cool breeze drifted inside, making the room calm and serene. Both of them took their seats.)
"Now, tell me—what do you want to talk about?" Bella asked.
"Did your husband receive a letter?" Noella asked.
"I have no idea," Bella replied.
"If you don't know, then maybe the letter hasn't arrived yet. Ok then, listen carefully. A letter might arrive at your doorstep from The Headline Hub. And you must compel your husband to give the interview requested in that letter."
"How am I supposed to convince him? He would never do that," Bella replied.
"Well, that's exactly what you're supposed to figure out. Isn't this why the task has been assigned to you?"
"But he will never agree," she whispered, terrified, as though trapped in the shackles of helplessness and obsession.
"We don't have a choice. It's our only option. I beg you—otherwise both of us will be ruined. My husband will lose his job too."
"But I might lose my family," Bella replied, sniffing, holding back tears in her eyes" .
"No, you won't. No one will get to know that it is your husband. My husband said they will keep his identity confidential."
"And what about his voice? Won't they recognize it? What about the place—won't they find out where we are staying?" Bella asked.
"No, everything will either be faked or hidden. We will use a voice changer so the voice won't sound the same."
"But it's still dangerous," Bella whispered.
Mrs. Weinstein became furious and stood up. "I have said what I was supposed to say. Now the choice is yours." She stormed toward the door and opened it fiercely.
(Bella switched her tense expression into one of happiness and satisfaction. Both of them came out of the room.)
"Oh! Your chatting is done. Look—the dinner's ready too."
"My goodness, Mr. Anderson, you can cook! The aroma is so pleasant it makes me want to have a bite."
"Sure, why not? Please have some—I would love to hear your reviews and remarks," I replied.
"No, I won't be able to. I'm getting late, and I still need to prepare dinner for tonight. Bye."
"Oh, that's sad. Still, have a safe journey," I said, escorting her to the door. But as she left, it felt as though someone was digging a hole in my back.
"Mommy, it seems like Daddy's in love with Aunt Noella."
"I think you're right, baby," Bella replied.
"What nonsense are you spouting, you brat? Why would I fall in love with that chatterbox? I only have eyes for my wifey."
"Ooo, really?" Bella smiled, and we had our dinner.
"Now go and wash the dishes, my hubby," my wife said.
"As my lady orders," I replied. Then I got busy washing the dishes. Leo went to bed, while Bella sat on the sofa in the balcony.
"How am I supposed to convince him to go for that interview? Just reading that letter sent chills down his spine, and if I ask him to go there, it will create chaos. What should I do? What if he grows furious or suspicious? If he starts investigating, the truth will come out in no time. That would be bad news—terrible news. Should I tell him everything myself? What if I lose him again? If I lose him this time, I might lose him forever. Mom, please help me. I don't want my family to fall apart like yours."
(All these thoughts were moving in Bella`s mind and then suddenly, the phone ringed. It made her experience a mini heart attack. When she checked, it was an unknown number. Then, she picked it up.)
"Hello, who`s there? Hello?" Bell asked.
"Honey, who is on the call? " I asked. "No one is replying. What kind of calls do even get? There is no one answering" Bella replied. "May be the internet is not coming. Let me see it".
(Clankkkkkkkkk! A noise of shattering came from Leo`)
"Mommy! Daddy!" Leo shouted.
(Both of them ran hurriedly towards his room.)