Bbyyyyd
1498 Words
One month
A months after the death of the great Mr. Darry.
Time did not soften the grief…. it stretched it.
The mansion felt colder.
Quieter.
Emptier.
After all the misfortunes and the denial, after the confusion and sleepless nights, something inside Vivian finally broke.
The pain settled into her bones.
It ate her from the inside out.
She didn’t just feel sad.
She felt hollow.
And as the days stacked on top of one another, she stopped getting out of bed.
Stopped eating.
Stopped speaking.
She stopped being herself.
So the doctor had to come again.
But this time, he didn’t meet her at the hospital.
This time, he walked into her bedroom…. because she couldn’t walk anywhere at all.
He set his bag down beside the bed.
The stethoscope rested against her chest.
He checked her pulse.
He checked her eyes.
He checked everything.
Vivian didn’t move.
Her skin felt cold.
Her breathing was shallow.
Victor sat on the couch, arms crossed, phone on the table.
Watching.
Waiting.
Silent.
The doctor finished the examination.
He let out a long, heavy sigh.
“Mr. Victor…. please…. you have to keep an eye on your wife.”
Victor didn’t respond.
He stared straight ahead.
The doctor continued.
“Everything has gotten to her. The stress…. the emotional trauma. And she is pregnant. The baby’s life will be in danger if this continues. If she keeps going like this…. you will lose the baby. I am serious.”
Still, Victor didn’t move.
He only blinked.
The doctor tried again.
“Right now, let her sleep. Let her rest until she wakes up on her own. Do not wake her. Do not disturb her. In the next few minutes, she may get strained…. she may twitch or move suddenly…. but please, do not stress her.”
He leaned closer to Victor.
His voice lowered.
“Let her stay in bed for three days…. almost a week if you can. She needs complete rest. Do everything for her. I am begging you. Do. Not. Stress. Her.”
Victor finally nodded.
But it was not the nod of someone who agreed.
Or understood.
Or cared.
It was the nod of someone who wanted the conversation to end.
“Okay, doctor,” he said.
That was it.
The doctor packed his tools.
Snapped the suitcase shut.
He and his assistants left the house quietly.
Vivian didn’t notice.
She was asleep.
Her breathing slow.
Unsteady.
Fragile.
⸻
Night fell.
The house dimmed.
Curtains rested without movement.
Not even the air wanted to disturb her.
Hours later, Vivian opened her eyes.
Slowly.
Her head still ached, but not as violently.
The pain had taken a step back, not gone…. just hiding.
She scanned the room.
Victor sat on the couch, phone in his hand, screen lighting his face.
“Victor….”
Her voice was dry.
Weak.
Barely there.
“I need water.”
Reluctantly, he stood.
Not because he cared.
But because refusing would have cost him more effort.
He walked to the table and poured her a glass.
Added food on a tray.
He carried it to her bedside.
“Eat for me, darling,” he said.
Vivian lifted the spoon with shaky hands.
She ate slowly…. chewing was work.
Swallowing was harder.
Victor watched her at first.
Then he stopped.
His eyes dropped to his phone again.
Scrolling.
Scrolling.
Vivian stared at her food.
She felt like a burden in her own home.
After a few minutes, she whispered, “I’m very sleepy…. I think I need to go back to sleep now.”
Victor nodded.
He stood and began walking toward the hall.
But her voice called him back.
“I think I need to take my bath…. please help me up.”
He hesitated.
Then he helped her sit.
To both of their surprise, she found strength in her legs.
Slowly…. slowly…. she walked toward the bathhouse.
She refused Victor’s offer to assist.
She didn’t want to feel like extra weight.
She closed the door behind her.
Victor sat on the edge of the bed.
Scrolling again.
The phone lit up his face like a small, artificial moon.
Then Vivian’s phone started ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
Ten.
He didn’t check.
Unknown number.
Probably a scammer.
He had no interest.
The ringing stopped.
Silence returned.
A moment later, the phone buzzed with a message.
Victor reached for it only to silence the device.
But he looked at the screen.
He froze.
The message preview read:
Family Lawyer.
He tapped it.
“Come right now, Mrs. Vivian. Please, we have to talk about the family properties. This is the day we have to share everything. Without you here, we may not be able to share. It may be very difficult. Unless you don’t want to know what was left for you.”
Victor’s eyes widened.
Finally.
Finally.
He didn’t think about the doctor’s words.
He didn’t think about Vivian’s condition.
He didn’t think about the baby.
He thought about property.
Wealth.
Opportunity.
He stood from the bed so quickly the mattress shifted.
He knocked on the bathroom door and spoke sharply.
“Vivian…Vivian….”
She was still bathing, weak and sitting on the small built-in seat.
Her eyes were heavy.
Her breathing slow.
“What is it…. Victor…. please,” she murmured.
“They are sharing the family properties,” he said.
Right into the steam.
Right into her exhaustion.
“You have to go and get yours.”
Vivian blinked.
Confused.
Tired.
In pain.
“Victor…. you know my condition. I don’t think I’m ready for that…. I’m in pain.”
“No. Vivian.”
His voice sharpened.
He wasn’t willing to listen.
He wasn’t willing to wait.
“You have to go. This is what I have been waiting for. You have to get up.”
Vivian stared at him through the fog.
Her heart pounded slowly against her ribs.
She wasn’t ready.
Her body wasn’t ready.
Her mind wasn’t ready.
But Victor didn’t care.
“Get up, Vivian. You can’t let this slide.”
Her legs trembled.
She hovered between wanting to cry and wanting to scream.
“Okay…. but I am in so much pain…. please.”
“Vivian, you have to go…. you have to go…. you have to go.”
He moved closer, voice rising.
“We are talking about your father’s property. The house. Everything. Get up.”
Before she could respond, he grabbed her arm.
He pulled her.
Pulled her out of the bathroom.
Pulled her toward the bedroom.
Pulled her toward the door.
He wasn’t even letting her change properly.
He dragged her like someone dragging urgency through a doorway.
Vivian gasped.
“Victor…. stop…. I need to change…. what is wrong with you?”
He halted.
Barely.
But he halted.
Vivian walked to the closet.
She dressed slowly.
Painfully.
Her hands shook.
Her legs wobbled.
Victor grabbed her phone.
He typed a message to the lawyer as if he were her.
“We are coming. I’m coming. Please wait for me.”
Her identity.
His hunger.
They left the house.
Victor practically dragged her to the car again.
Her feet barely touched the floor.
The drive should have taken one hour.
Victor made it in thirty minutes.
He parked in front of the Darry mansion.
The building towered like wealth carved into stone.
The gates held history.
The walls held secrets.
Vivian stepped out of the car.
Her knees wobbled.
Her face was pale.
Her heart felt too loud for her chest.
They entered.
The family was there.
Tears had dried on faces that looked tired of crying.
Her mother, Amelia, sat near the window.
Her eyes were red.
She was shaking…. but not as badly as before.
Time had not healed her pain…. it had only taught it to sit still.
Vivian walked further into the room.
Her grandmother, Juliana, turned.
Her eyes narrowed with disgust.
“What are you doing here?” she spat.
“Young lady…. with that your thing behind you.”
She meant Victor.
Victor inhaled sharply.
Ready to reply.
Ready to defend.
Ready to fight.
“If in them…. that’s yes we…” he began.
But the lawyer interrupted.
“Please. The daughter of the man has to be here for us to be able to share the properties.”
Grandma Juliana pointed at Victor.
“But what about the person behind her? He has to leave now. He is the main reason my son is gone. My son-in-law is gone now. Just like that.”
Victor froze.
His pride cracked.
If he stayed a second longer, he would explode.
He would shout.
He would curse.
He would ruin everything he came here for.
So he swallowed the humiliation.
He turned.
And he left the mansion.
The door shut behind him.
Vivian walked to the table.
She sat.
The lawyer sat beside her.
Her mother and grandmother stayed far away.
Distance.
Judgment.
Silence.
Then….
They proceeded.
- Writer
