Contract And Marriage

Maximus

Three months after reading those files, I returned to the Philippines, and the police investigation still hasn’t yielded any results, even after a year and a half. I should have lost all my hopes, but the loneliness made me not to. I didn’t want to feel empty forever, and I thought that would always be how I felt if I didn’t hold on to the hope that my wife would return.

It’s been two years since I last saw my wife, and the pain is still fresh. My older brother and friends call me frequently, probably to cheer me up, but it doesn’t help. Six months ago, Mariano visited me, and we spent an entire day together. He talked to me seriously and said it was unlikely that Sarina would be found. I was furious because I knew he had a point.

Then, the hope I had been holding onto to stay strong had completely vanished. My brother stayed with me, and I saw the worry on my grandmother’s face. I even saw her cry out of fear for my condition because I had attempted to take my own life. I couldn’t even face my in-laws because I didn’t know how to ease their hearts when I couldn’t even do it for myself, especially knowing how much they loved my wife.

Yes, two years have passed, and I still can’t forget her. I opened my eyes and remembered I was in the parking lot, about to go home. I started driving even though I knew I wouldn’t find anyone to welcome me at home.Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

I felt cold when I entered the condo, probably because Lisa had just left. I no longer let her stay long. Once she finished cleaning and doing the laundry, she could go home. Before, I wanted her to stay until the afternoon so Sarina would have company. But now that my wife is gone, there’s no reason for her to overstay once she’s done with her tasks.

My eyes wandered to the living room, where we often used the couch, especially when we shared our desirable moments. I wanted to throw it away and replace it, but I couldn’t. It was one of the things that reminded me of my wife. I also no longer used our bedroom because I couldn’t sleep well there. Her belongings were still in our closet, which I often sniffed and hugged, even her panties and bras, whenever loneliness overwhelmed me.

I’ve been sleeping in the guest room because I often stay up late if I rest in our bedroom. Every part of it is filled with our memories, making me even more restless.

I walked to the guest room I was using. It was clean, unlike when I first started using it. Once Lisa found out I was staying there, she prioritized tidying it up. At the same time, I locked the master’s bedroom, having it cleaned once a week to maintain it.

I collapsed onto the bed and closed my eyes again. In moments like this, I would smile because I could see my wife’s face. Shit! I didn’t realize that loving someone could be like this. It’s like sadness has been slowly taking my life away.

Even so, I know the kind of joy it brings me. I was so happy just to see Sarina’s smiling face. When she looked at me, especially in our last days together, I felt an overwhelming happiness that nothing else could match and that money couldn’t buy. I became sentimental after meeting my wife, and now, I was nothing but a body that had no soul and spirit. Living a lifeless life. I despise the life I have now because I had to continue living without my life. So, I had no choice but to vent it to someone or anyone.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep as I closed my eyes,, but I was awakened by the ringing phone in my pants pocket. I took it out and checked who was calling.

“What is it, Mariano?” I asked. We had just talked recently, so I wondered what he wanted now.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Condo,” I answered, annoyed. I didn’t want to be disturbed, and here he was.

“Roskov is dead.” I immediately sat up upon hearing those words.

“What did you say?” I asked again, thinking I misheard him.

“You heard me right, Max,” he replied, sighing.

“And? What about Sarina? Did you find her? Is she in his house? Did he take her?” It seemed my questions would never run out, so he had to answer. He should have given me an answer that I wanted to hear.

“Nothing, Max.” From the very beginning, Mariano had been helping me find my wife. Our prime suspect was Roskov, so he never stopped tracking his activities. And now my brother tells me he’s gone? That he’s dead, and there’s no more information we can get to find out where or how my wife is? I was just thinking about her earlier and how miserable my life is, and then this?

“No, how can you say that?” I asked angrily. I couldn’t accept his reply. There has to be something that might lead us to my wife. We never found her body, so he had to be alive somewhere. That bastard Roskov was only hiding her.

“We can’t do anything about it, Max,” he said. What, am I just supposed to accept this? No, Sarina loves me, so she’ll come back to me. Based on the police files, it seemed she escaped from her kidnapper. Her blood wouldn’t have been found in L. A. unless she escaped and was dragged. No, that’s not possible. My wife doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.

“Don’t stop trying, Mar, or I’ll fly there and do it myself.” I threatened him. How can I accept something I don’t want to?

“I’m going to send you a link. It’s the complete footage of how the police raided his mansion,” he said before ending our conversation. Then, I received an email from him.

I opened it and started watching. I was losing interest because the video was long, and I believed it had nothing to do with my wife. I was about to stop watching when a woman lifted a dress and some men’s clothes that had fallen from the closet as they searched.

I paused, and my eyes widened. I could never forget that dress because Sarina and I bought it together, and it was the one she wore the day she disappeared at the airport. It’s a baby blue sleeveless dress with a white baby collar and baby blue lining. She looked so lovely and refreshing in that dress, paired with the purse she used that day, which I retrieved from the passengers who found it.

Why was it in Roskov’s mansion? Was he really the one who took my wife? I quickly screenshot the dress and sent it to Mariano before calling him again.

“Where is that dress now?” I asked as soon as he answered.

“Police custody, of course.”

“Find out who owns that dress,” I ordered him.

“I already did, and you just have to wait. Although I don’t know if it belongs to your wife, I still wonder why there are women’s clothes in Roskov’s closet when he isn’t in an intimate relationship with anyone.”

Mariano said more, but I couldn’t understand it because my mind was on Sarina. As he said, our conversation ended, and I waited for the results. While waiting, I continued working. I had things to do in the company, so I poured all my attention into work to momentarily forget Sarina.

I shouldn’t be moping like this, given how long it’s been, but I can’t forget because I don’t know what really happened to my wife. Anyone in my situation would understand that.

I attended meetings and various gatherings, which I never used to do. But to keep my mind occupied, I buried myself in work.

“Maximus, grandson, you need to rest too.” I was in my office, and as usual, Grandma visited me.

I took a deep breath before responding, “Grandma, I’m busy. I have a lot to finish and work that needs my attention.”

“Get a life, Maximus!” she said angrily, making me look at her.

“Grandma, I want to work in peace. Please leave if you can’t give me that.”

“Is it because of that woman that you’re like this? You don’t want to live anymore?”

My eyes narrowed at her words, “Shut up, Grandma!” I shouted, standing from my chair. She was sitting in front of me, looking up with wide eyes and tears welling up. “I already said I want to work in peace. So please, leave me alone.” I added calmly. Grandma stood and walked out of my office with slumped shoulders.

I went to my office pantry and took a glass and a bottle of rum. I needed it to calm myself. I felt guilty shouting at my grandmother, whom I knew only wanted the best for me. But I didn’t want to hear her say things, especially bad things about my wife. She should respect Sarina and my feelings for her.

After pouring the liquor into my glass, I drank it in one gulp before I poured another. I did the same multiple times before I returned to my seat, and an email notification popped on my laptop. I immediately opened it, knowing it was from Mariano.

“I’m sorry, bro,” said the message. My hands trembled as I opened the attachment and read it. I couldn’t stop myself from sobbing as tears streamed down my face. I was so broken and felt dead inside as the report’s contents sank into my mind.