CEO’s REDEMPTION

I am woken up by the melodious sweet chirping of the birds. I groan, stretching my muscles. My eyes fall to the space beside the bed, like they always do every single morning. As always, today is no exception. Jerol is not with me. This is what has been going on for the last month. Yes, it’s one month down since I married him, and three weeks after that morning saga – the day his life took a complete turn.

He wakes up at the crack of dawn and locks himself either in the study or in the gym room. He barely talks, and sometimes I am forced to beg him to eat. I don’t know how his company is doing at the moment, but I doubt it’s running smoothly because Jerol has not left this house for a full calendar month. I know he has managers who supervise the work for him, but still, he needs to be there for his company. It’s a multi-billion company for freaking sake! How can you entrust such a huge company to some people? As the saying goes, money is the root cause of all evil, and so do I believe.

I fling the covers off me and get out of bed. I walk to the table near the window, my eyes falling on the set of three broken phones lying on this table. They are all Jerol’s, and their condition right now is a result of his uncontrollable temper. Last week, it was his laptop that suffered the consequences. I can’t recall how many cups or plates he has broken. His hands have scars all over as a result of vetting his anger on the wall. His condition is getting worse day by day. He has fired six servants already, just because of slight mistakes or small misconceptions. Like yesterday he fired two of them, only because he walked on them discussing their boyfriends. He ruthlessly kicked them out, as if they had fornicated on his bed.

Wondering why all this happening?

It’s because of that woman who has turned into a ghost, disappearing into thin air. There is not a single day that goes by without him making these strange calls to enquire about that ghost woman, and every time, the results are always the same, presumably, otherwise, he wouldn’t be like this. Did I say a day? Pardon me, every time he is on phone, he is always enquiring about that woman.

Sometimes I wake up at night to find him staring at his phone, perhaps her photos, or just sitting down engrossed in thoughts – deep thought! It’s worrying me to see him like this. It’s worrying everyone, his parents being the most worried. The last time they came to check on him, he didn’t even open the door for them. It pained me to see them leave so worried and heartbroken.

You must be wondering where I stand in all that is happening, and if I am doing anything to help. Huh! I am just filling in the gap of being his wife in front of everyone, but keeping a safe distance from his personal issues.

Why?

It’s not that I’m not troubled. It’s not because I don’t care. No. I tried once to play the role of a concerned wife, but that got me a scar on my face that hasn’t healed completely. He was yelling on phone that day, in his study, and I was going to check on him, making a very stupid decision to wait behind the crossed door until he finishes his conversation. I don’t hear his last words, only a loud groan followed by the sound of objects falling on the tiled floor and a loud roar. I opened the door, only to meet with a flying fork in the air, landing on my face. The most painful part was how he yelled at me, warning me not to badge on him like that ever again. So from that day, I chose to stay on the safer side. I don’t want to die while trying to help someone. I don’t want to leave this place as a cripple after my stay is over. I want him to be okay, yes, but not at the expense of me getting hurt.

If I had a way to help him find this woman that is making him lose his sanity, I would, even if it means dragging her ass back to him if she doesn’t want to return to him. Can’t she just show up? If she intended for all this – to hurt him and mess him up, I would have her know that she succeeded. She deserves a crown. I would also let her know that it’s time to put an end to her games before this man turns into a complete psycho, that is if she still cares for him. I know it’s very difficult for a man to show his weakness like Jerol is doing. Good thing is that it’s only me who knows what’s eating him up. Everyone else is in the dark.

I bet he would kneel and kiss the ground that ghost walks on just begging her to come back to him. That is what his condition says, not me. What happened between them anyways? I mean, for her to go away and ghost him like that? It must have been so intense. Was there even a goodbye? You know, like, dude, I want out because of one two three? Or, like, I just don’t love you anymore, I found someone better?

“Madam! Ma’am! Ma’am! Where are you?” I turn to the door, the same time Terry almost falls inside. She is one of the few lucky ones who haven’t tested the wrath of Jerol, but for how long?

“Terry!” I exclaim, wondering why she would shout my name and badge into my room like a ghost is chasing her. Wait, don’t tell me she has been fired too? “Wha is it?”

“Ma’am, you need to go to sir Jerol.”

That alone gives me a bad feeling. I start walking towards her slowly.

“Why?” My voice is shaky, but I try to act strong.

“He is hurting himself, ma’am. You have to do something!”

Shit!

I run out of the door without a second thought and start ascending the stairs, jumping two staircases in a go.

“Where is he?” I ask the servants who are standing on the balcony with shock on their faces.

“In the gym, madam.” They all chorus, and I increase my pace up to the last room of this castle – the fourth floor.

I get to the gym, my legs compelling me to give up but I plead otherwise. Through the clear window, I see Jerol, blood oozing from his hands but he is still punching the wall angrily, his shirtless back on me. I shout his name, but he can’t hear me, or maybe he can hear but doesn’t pay attention. His anger has gotten to the best side of him. He can’t feel the physical pain, because the internal pain is in control. I try pushing the door open, but it’s locked from the inside.

“Jerol! Hon!” I call, knocking on the door countless times but to no avail. “Hon, please open the door! Please!” The only response I get is his groans as he hits the wall harder. “Hon…”

“Ma’am, here is the spare key.”

Thank heavens!

I grab the key from Terry and the first aid kit. She seems to be the only one with a brain amongst the uncountable bunch of idiots parading themselves as servants. I open the door and walk in, slamming it shut again. I don’t want anybody walking in to witness how I can’t handle my husband.

“Jerol!” I call, dropping the key and the kit on the floor and running to him. He doesn’t turn nor say a word, nor does he stop his business.

I time one of his hands, grabbing it mid-air to prevent it from hitting the wall.

“Stop this, Jerol, please!” I plead, because I know I can’t hold him like this for long. As if to prove my point, he yanks his hand forcefully, but I refuse to let it go. The impact of his pull makes me stagger toward him, and I take the chance to stand before him.

He has tears in his beautiful eyes.

“You will get hurt if you keep meddling, Tessa. Just stay off.” He speaks.

“And what kind of a wife will people think I am, Jerol? Come on! Is she even worth all this?”

“You know nothing, so just shut up.” He roars.

I would like to argue. I would like to comfort him. I would like to tell him that I am not judging him. I want to let him know that I understand what he is going through, but the look in his eyes forbids me to say anything on this matter.

“Alright. My lips are sealed about this matter. Just let me treat your wounds, please. It’s the least I can do.”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

He doesn’t object, and we sit down on the floor. I disinfect his wounds and bandage them all in absolute silence. I am concentrating on his wounds, and he mentally is, perhaps, searching for his beloved somewhere. When I am done, I stand to leave, but I don’t want to leave him here all alone.

“Can we go now?” I shoot my shot, and the only thing I get for a moment is snapping his mind back from wonderland. He does not respond, but to my surprise, he stands too

“Tessa.” He calls, so soft that I had to look at his lips to prove that my name really rolled from his lips. “As your husband, I am ordering you to stay away from me anytime you see me like I was a while ago. Is that clear?”

How on earth can I do that, huh?