The following day dawned bright and cheerful, just like any other. Sunlight streamed through the window, gently illuminating the cozy room where John, Soraya, and their child lay nestled in bed. John had taken his usual spot at the edge, their child nestled in the middle, while Soraya snuggled up against the wall.
With a soft yawn, Soraya stirred, stretching her arms skyward before kneeling beside the bed. She offered a quiet prayer to the Maker, seeking strength for the day ahead. After a moment of reflection, she slipped out of the room and made her way to the kitchen, her mind racing.
As she passed through the sitting room, she spotted the bodyguard lounging comfortably on the couch. She forced a smile and greeted him, but her heart was heavy with guilt—guilt from her earlier attempt to weave a web of deception that hinted at infidelity. Shaking off the thought, she hurried to prepare breakfast, the sweet aroma of food soon filling the air.
Once the meal was ready, she carefully balanced a tray and made her way back to the bedroom, waking John gently. He looked up at her, still groggy but with an appetite that surprised her. He devoured the breakfast with gusto, even asking for seconds, which she gladly obliged.
That day was significant; they needed to head to the Baraton health facility. Soraya filled a basin with warm water and tenderly washed John, offering comfort as she called for the bodyguard to help him to the car. Together, they set off for the hospital, Soraya's heart pounding with worry.
Baraton Health Facility was renowned across the state, and upon their arrival, the medical team sprang into action. Registration was swift, and John was admitted to Ward Three, where specialized care awaited him. Soraya remained by his side, offering whispered words of encouragement as nurses flitted in and out, their urgency reflecting the seriousness of John's condition.
At lunchtime, Soraya decided to brighten John's spirits with some fresh fruit. She instructed the bodyguard to accompany her to the market. As they strolled, they stopped in front of a fruit shop, where Soraya's curiosity got the better of her. She turned to the bodyguard, "Why do you pretend not to understand my intentions?"
He met her gaze but remained silent, only locking eyes with her. Pushed by her persistence, he finally admitted, "I respect you, Soraya. You're his wife, and I can't betray that trust."
"Come on, look at me. Am I not beautiful?" she countered, her voice dripping with allure. "Why play the saint? We could have something special."
But despite her charms, he shook his head, and disappointment flickered across Soraya's face. They left the market with the fruits, her smile now a thin veneer masking her frustration.
As evening fell, the bodyguard prepared to sleep in the car while Soraya stayed with John, determined to demonstrate her love and care. The high-end facility welcomed family members, allowing her to remain by his side during the night.
Around midnight, as the bodyguard slipped into a deep sleep, a soft knock echoed through the darkness. Startled, he opened his eyes to find Soraya standing at the door. A wave of exasperation washed over him—what could she want now? For a moment, he considered ignoring her, but curiosity got the better of him.
He cracked open the door, inquiring if she had been sent by John, but she quickly turned the conversation towards her earlier advances. Anger simmered inside him, and he pushed her away, closing the car door with finality.
"Let me in!" she pleaded, her voice a mix of desperation and frustration. But he stood firm, denying her access. She sulked away, the sound of her footsteps fading as she returned to the ward.
Morning came, bringing with it hope. The bodyguard woke refreshed and headed straight to the ward to check on John. To his relief, John was responding well; he was sitting up and even engaging in conversation. But as the bodyguard began to leave, he heard Soraya call him back.
With a worried expression, John confronted him. "Soraya told me you tried to seduce her. Is that true?"
Taken aback, the bodyguard felt a surge of disbelief. The scene was set for an unfolding drama, with shadows of suspicion hovering over their fragile lives.
The tension in the room crackled like electricity. John, still reeling from the recent allegations designed to create a rift between him and his loyal bodyguard, felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The bodyguard, steadfast and true for so long, stood silently, awaiting his chance to speak.
"Your Excellency, I can explain everything, but not here, not now," he insisted, his voice firm yet cautious.
Sasha, John's wife, interjected sharply, her eyes filled with concern. "Look! Don't let him manipulate you. If you're not careful, this man could have ulterior motives against our family!" The room fell silent, a palpable tension in the air as their expressions spoke volumes.
"Darling, please," John urged, his tone gentle yet resolute. "Let me handle this. I need to be fully recovered first."
By the third day, a sense of normalcy began to settle back into John's life. He had regained his strength and was finally discharged from the hospital. A flicker of happiness ignited in the household, and it felt like the perfect moment for a celebration.
However, that night brought a haunting dream. John found himself face-to-face with the spirits of his deceased parents, their disapproval evident as they lamented his neglect in honoring their memory. This spiritual revelation struck him deeply; perhaps neglecting the remembrance ritual had summoned misfortune into his life.
Determined to rectify his past oversight, John set to work organizing a grand remembrance ceremony for his parents. The preparations were immense—a massive feast with enormous bulls being slaughtered, an abundance of drinks, and guests invited from far and wide.
The day arrived, bursting with color and life. Dancers twirled gracefully, bringing joy and energy to the event, while professional mourners, skilled in the art of remembrance, shouted praises in the local language, honoring the lives of those who had passed.
As the festivities concluded and the last guest made their way home, a gnawing confusion lingered in John's mind. That evening, after leaving his bodyguard resting on the couch, a surge of adrenaline coursed through him. He retrieved his pistol and, with determination, confronted the bodyguard, demanding clarity about the troubling situation with Sasha.
"Explain yourself," he ordered, the tension between them palpable.
The bodyguard, with his hands raised in surrender, produced a set of recordings—conversations with Soraya that revealed the truth. In that moment, he held the key to unraveling the web of deception that had ensnared them all.