The door opened without a sound, but Ma?l caught it from the corner of his eye.

  “Wow, that was fast!” he said.

  “No. Not really.” A deep voice answered. A man’s voice.

  Ma?l turned to see a Japanese man enter the room as casually as if he was at home. The man was tall, handsome and wore a well-tailored business suit with practiced ease. Two other men walked in behind him. They carried guns but they were still tucked in their holsters. Bodyguards. They split up, putting some distance between them but controlling the room’s entrance and windows. Pros. Amateurs moved as a pack, but pros controlled space, there was no way he could attack either one without getting shot by the other. Nowhere to run either. The precaution was hardly necessary however—he could barely move as it was.

  The first man grabbed a chair and sat down in front of Ma?l who was still in the sofa, wrapped in a blanket. He handed Ma?l a small plastic bag with a green logo.

  “Here are your antibiotics, compliments of Kaori.”

  He has Kaori? Full of rage, Ma?l tried to rush the man but was pushed back onto the sofa by the cold steel of a gun muzzle jammed against his chest. God he was weak!

  “What have you done to her!” he yelled.

  “Me? I was going to ask you the same question! Aren’t you the one who kidnapped her?” The man replied with a profound measure of righteous indignation.

  Ma?l froze. What the hell? Of all things… He inspected the Japanese man in front of him. Handsome, well-dressed, classy. He had lowered the gun, but that made no difference. In his current state, there was little he could do against him, to say nothing of the bodyguards.

  “Who are you?” Ma?l asked.

  “Me? My name is Matsuko Oroshi and I am Kaori’s husband.” Oroshi reached in his wallet and handed him his business card with both hands and a small bow.

  Ma?l stared at the man with a look of sheer horror. Husband? He reached mechanically to take the card.

  “Two hands.” the man said calmly.

  Ma?l complied, holding both corners of the card and bowing to hide his distress.

  Husband. Kaori is married?

  Oroshi inspected the man with intense satisfaction. He was a master at breaking people and the man in front of him was already shattering in front of his eyes, barely held together by social conventions and some faint strand of hope. He just had to cut it, slowly, delicately and the man would unravel.

  He watched as Ma?l read the card. Ma?l’s shoulders sagged and Oroshi understood immediately: an abyss lay between their respective social standings.

  “You’re lying. Kaori’s not married, it’s not even her real name.”

  “You want proof?”

  Oroshi pulled his phone out and opened the lock screen. He handed the phone to Ma?l. The background image was a wedding photo shot in a studio a few days before Kaori… fell. Kaori looked resplendent and happy in her traditional Japanese wedding dress. She was hugging Oroshi tightly. They looked every bit the perfect couple.

  It was a stab into Ma?l chest. He winced in pain.

  “You really don’t know who she is, do you?” Oroshi’s voice sounded compassionate and understanding.

  Ma?l nodded, his throat too tied up to say anything. Physical pain, he could handle, but this?

  “Do you have Netflix?” Oroshi asked, pointing to the TV. Ma?l didn’t respond, so he grabbed the remote and opened the application. He navigated to the search bar, seemingly paying no attention to Ma?l. He typed “Mashiro Kaori” and pressed “OK.”

  A full page of movie results appeared as Ma?l stared at the TV with a bewildered look in his eyes. Kaori—his Kaori—was there, on every one of these thumbnails. Oroshi clicked on one of them and Kaori’s face filled the screen. It was unmistakably her. A movie star.

  “This is Mashiro Kaori, heiress of Mashiro Industries—you know Sony, right?—and one of Japan’s top actresses. She was victim of an attempted murder by some crazed fans on the night of our wedding, and disappeared. We assumed a kidnapping, of course.” Oroshi stared into Ma?l’s eyes, relishing the pain and turmoil he was inflicting, each seemingly innocent word a dagger squarely aimed the man’s heart.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Ma?l froze. This was exactly what Kaori herself tried to tell him, the night when she fell into his life. Only he didn’t listen. He didn’t believe her, he even laughed at her!

  “Why don’t you tell me what actually happened?” Oroshi asked gently, as if prodding a crying child.

  Ma?l turned a broken stare at the man. His eyes were moist with tears he tried to hold back. He’d always known she was too good for him, that it would end. He never had a chance—never deserved a chance either.

  When have I been that lucky anyway? He groaned at the thought. For a few blissful days, he’d really believed.

  He began to recount their journey, how he had been there by chance under the window, how he had caught her, how they had run away, survived the storm and fled to Thailand.

  Oroshi nodded along, without interrupting till the end.

  “It’s all right. I believe you. Thank you for saving her.” He placed a friendly hand on Ma?l shoulder.

  “I have to know. Did you sleep with her? Did you take advantage of her?”

  Ma?l stared at the man. He looked anxious, worried of what he might hear, and Ma?l understood all too well. The thought of someone else sleeping with Kaori, hugging her and basking in her presence… it was more than he could stand. He’d done that to this man, but at least, they never went all the way. He felt guilty for all the times he had caressed her naked body, kissed her… he had wanted her, like he had never wanted anyone. He felt the urge to tell the truth, to destroy that man and claim Kaori for himself. Could he do that? Take advantage of her trauma and wreck this poor man’s life? He lowered his eyes.

  “No. We did not. I wasn’t worthy.”

  Oroshi breathed a genuine sigh of relief.

  “Thank you.” He stood up.

  “What happens now?” Ma?l asked. “Can I see her?”

  “Now, I am taking my wife back home where she’ll be treated for the trauma she’s endured during the assassination attempt and since. She’ll have the best trauma experts money can hire, but she’ll need time to recover. I’m sorry, you can’t see her. As much as I appreciate what you have tried to do for her, you can not be in our life, and I can’t let you hold back her recovery.

  “I know you did your best, but look at you. You dragged her into danger, almost caused her to die in a storm, taking her away from her friends and family. Her father is worried sick.”

  “I—”

  “It’s what’s best for her, and you know it.” Oroshi drove those final words into his heart like a blade and twisted.

  Ma?l, still weak and near delirious, broke down in tears. The man was right. He was a liability to Kaori. She hadn’t even trusted him with her true identity. And all he had done was to drag her deeper into delusion with his spy fantasies. He was a danger to her and he couldn’t protect her. He was just a glorified vagrant and she was… he glanced at the TV screen where her face still stared at him with cold piercing eyes.

  She despised him!

  How could I ever have believed I was good enough for her?

  Oroshi stood up. Ma?l dropped to his knees and bowed, his head to the floor.

  “I’m sorry. Please take good care of her.”

  “Don’t worry. My wife will not need of anything.”

  Oroshi pushed the pharmacy paper bag toward him with his foot. “This is Kaori’s last gift. I’ll send you some money. Ten thousand dollars should cover your expenses, right? I’m just asking you to have the decency to let her reclaim her life without unnecessary… distractions.

  You’ve done quite enough, haven’t you?

  He turned away from Ma?l, still prostrated on the floor and walked out of the room with a triumphant grin on his face.

  His domination was absolute!

  The body guards followed him outside, closing the door behind them. Once they reached a safe distance from the house, one of them asked. “Should we kill him?”

  “Not yet. Let him suffer for a few days, then kill him. When you’re done, cut his head and his genitals and send them to me. Kaori will want a souvenir.”

  Inside the house, Ma?l remained prostrate on the floor, sweat and tears pooling under him.

  The sun had risen and was now scorching hot; his leg throbbed with pain and he burned with fever. He did not move. There was no reason for him to move. There was no reason for anything. His mouth was parched. He turned his head to the side and his eyes stopped on the small paper bag from the pharmacy.

  Kaori’s last gift, Oroshi had said.

  She’d risked herself for him and never came back. It was for the best.

  The Kaori he knew would hurt, but the Kaori he knew wasn’t the real Kaori. The real Kaori had a family, a life, friends, people who loved her, she would heal. And he had… nothing. There was nothing he could do, he was nothing.

  His role in life had been to catch her when she needed it and he had outlived his usefulness by several days already. He stared at the paper bag and the paper bag seemed to stare back at him. The puddle of sweat around him felt disgusting.

  Is this how I want to go? Don’t I have any dignity? What would Kaori say if she saw me right now?

  This last thought spurred him into action. Slowly, he raised to his knees. The wound stretched and he felt one of Kaori’s threads tear through his flesh and snap. A prophetic snap. He stood up, grabbed the antibiotics and ambled toward the fridge where he found a few bottles of water. He popped some pills in his mouth and swallowed several gulps of water. The cold liquid splashed inside his mouth, bringing a measure of relief. He didn’t want relief. Physical pain felt right. It was a welcome distraction from the devastation in his heart.

  He was in Hell, pain was right.

  He staggered back to the sofa and collapsed into it. Reaching for the remote, he turned the TV back on. Kaori stared at him and tears streamed down his cheeks. He clicked “Play” and watched as Kaori came alive on the screen. It was a sad romantic movie. She was sick, dying, but her lover didn’t know and she tried her best to ease the pain of her passing. She died and he followed her into death shortly later—he was dying too, but hadn’t told her.

  Japanese romances were so depressing.

  It was as if she was telling him goodbye. He played the movie again and again until he fell asleep on the sofa.