Page 44 of Whispers of Helena
My legs are weak as he steps away, and my lungs fight for air. Unable to look away from the wall, I remain while he gathers his things. And when he leaves the stables, I fall to my knees.
Breakfast
Silas
The warmthof my bed tempted me into lingering here long past sunrise. Yet, consciousness demanded its due. I groggily swing my legs over the edge, the cool floor jolting my senses awake. My hand instinctively presses down on the morning evidence of my body’s rebellion, an unwelcome persistence I’ve endured every day for the past two weeks. The same unsatisfied reminder every cursed morning since I laid Helena’s choice before her.
Relief hasn’t been an option. I’ve denied myself that reprieve, choosing discomfort as a tool of self-imposed penance. Guilt tightens its grip around my chest with every sunrise, the cruel certainty dawning: she chose her employment over me. The bitter sting of rejection gnaws at my composure, leaving me restless, agitated. I rake my hands through my hair in frustration, stewing in my helplessness.
And then, some distorted sense of salvation saves me from my spiral. Kiran knocks lightly on my door. Helena’s God, if he exists, seems to have granted me mercy in my torment, because the sound clears my haze, causing my cock to deflate instantly.
“Pa?”
Rising, I open the door to find my son beaming up at me. My pulse steadies.
“Good morning, son.”
“You’re still sleeping?” His giggle fills the narrow space, disarming the tension wound tightly inside me.
I bend and hoist him up. “Just woke up, buddy. Sorry for being lazy. Have you had breakfast?”
He shakes his head, his mischievous grin making my chest ache with love. “Nope. I was waiting for you.”
I kiss his forehead, savoring the fleeting innocence of these moments. He’s growing so fast, already squirming away from my affection some days. I set him gently on the bed and tug on a shirt, determined to savor every second he still lets me hold him close.
Kiran is all I have left of her. He’s the one thing that grounds me when the weight of the grief is too much to bear. Outside of the loss that sits in my chest like a stone, he’s my only proof that she ever truly existed.
He ties me to her. He’s her eyes looking back at me, her voice echoing in his laughter, her heart showing through in his tender care for the animals. I yearn to release the past, but Kiran anchors me to it, a reminder of both my pain and my purpose. Without him, she would be just a memory, slipping further into the fog of time. With him, she’s here, woven into every breath he takes and every beat of his heart.
Downstairs, the house stirs softly. The kitchen greets us, faint sunlight spilling over Helena as she stands at the sink. She turns at the sound of our steps, her gaze softening at Kiran.
"Good morning, Kiran," she says, her voice radiant enough to melt steel. "Thought you were going to sleep the morning away."
A smile lights up Kiran’s face in a way that only Helena can inspire. "I waited for Pa to wake up to eat breakfast," he declares, pride puffing his small chest.
Her eyes, filled with affection, linger solely on him, while I stand rooted to the floor, her blatant disregard an unspoken rebuke. She waves Kiran toward the table. "Go on then, sweetheart. I’ve got your plates ready."
He scurries off, and I lean against the island, watching her move. She pulls two plates from the oven and sets them on thetable. One in front of my son, the other at my place. Then, finally, her attention shifts to me.
"Good morning, Ms. Toth," I say, breaking the silence between us.
"Mr. Hayes." Her voice remains calm as our eyes lock. For a moment, the tension between us simmers until she steps closer and retrieves an envelope from her back pocket. She places it on the counter, then nudges it toward me.
"This came yesterday," she says.
I can feel the moment intensify as I glance down at it. The smallest tilt of her chin urges me to open it. Tearing it open, the paper rustles like thunder in the stillness. The message unfolds, black ink spelling out her official dismissal from the agency, confirming the end of her assignment here. Relief washes over me, powerful and dizzying.
My voice betrays the longing growing beneath the surface. "Will you stay here, Helena?"
She eases closer, the air crackling between us. Her voice is low, intimate, as she says, "I will, Silas. Just don’t make me regret it."
“I assure you, you won’t.”
With a nod, she returns to the sink. I watch her for a moment, scanning her body, feeling the fire return inside me as I slip the letter into my pocket. She might not realize it yet, but she just granted the devil access to not only her body, but her soul as well. I’ll own every part of her if she’ll let me.
Midnight
Silas
