David brought in the food Callan had ordered that morning, set the package on the dining table and left the living room afterwards. Callan settled on the dining chair, emptying the food off the package.
That was Orla's duty whenever they wanted to eat, but that morning, she wasn't anywhere around the dining room. After Callan left for his study that night, she left for the guest room too, but Callan had no idea she didn't sleep in the bedroom.
He only got to know when he came back the next morning to find the next room empty, and without being told, he already figured out where she slept.
He spooned some rice into a clean plate and reclined on the chair to eat.
He leisurely ate the food, waiting for his wife to show up, but she didn't. It was now about ten minutes into the food and she still hadn't come out to eat. He understood that she was still reeling from her cat's death and he shouldn't even be bothered, but it couldn't be helped.
He was so worried about her, so worried she hadn't had something to eat. She looked tinier when he saw her yesterday and he wondered if she had been eating at all.
The food suddenly turned stale in his mouth, swallowing became a difficulty as thoughts of his wife were jammed up in his head. He hated that, but sometimes, most times like this, he just couldn't fight it.
After struggling with the food and thoughts of Orla, he finally gave up on the food and straightened out of the chair. He took a glance towards the door that shielded the guest room Orla was sleeping in.
Taking a step forward, he shook his head in worry and backed away, veering towards the exit door.
He took one more long glance at the door, hoping Orla would show up, but she didn't.
He walked out of the living room and right into the garage where David had already prepared the door for him to enter the car.
He settled in the passenger's seat while David took the driver's seat. After clasping the seatbelt, he looked back at his boss and said. "Boss, you haven't sent the location of the estate that we are visiting this morning."
Callan nodded his head. That was right, they were supposed to visit an estate for surveying but he had a sudden change of mind. He wanted to visit somewhere else.
"Do you know any pet shops around here?" He asked, narrowing his eyes on David who looked so surprised.
"A pet shop?" David asked, to be sure he heard his Boss right.
"Yes, do you know of any?" He retorted, ignoring the weird look on his chauffeur's face.
David had been working with Callan for a few years and he knew for a fact that his boss disliked pets, but now he's asking about a pet shop and that marvelled him.
"No, I don't. But why do you ask, Boss? Do you want to get one?" David asked again, getting on Callan's nerves. "I know for a fact that you do not fancy pets."
"Do you know of any?" Callan asked, his voice sterner and his countenance depicting seriousness. He disliked whatever idea David was having in his little head, but he acted unbothered.
"Not really, but I can look up the Internet and check if there is anyone around here," David said with a reassuring smile.
"I need you to do that now, it's more important that I get one before today ends."
"Okay, Boss." David bowed, shoving his hand into the centre console of the Beamer to bring out his phone. He did a quick online survey of the environment around and he got a pet shop in less than five minutes.
"I saw one!" He informed Callan.
"Good, start the car. Let's get there now." Callan beamed with satisfaction.
-
Later that evening, Callan dropped at home after a strenuous day. He had with him a cat that looks exactly like Betty, but smaller and a little darker. He briskly walked into the house with the cat in his hands and smiles magnetizing his face.
He had offended his wife and he hoped getting a new cat would enliven her mood and make her smile again. He weirdly missed her smile and usual shy self.
He entered the bedroom, took off his clothes and hurried into the guestroom Orla was now staying in. When he got to the doorpost, the door was left ajar, and he gently pushed open to an empty room. Orla was not there, her scent didn't fill the room, and nothing about her was there.
His heart skipped a beat, and he dropped the cat on the centre table and walked around the room, searching every nook and cranny for her. For once, he thought she left the house, but he knew well that Orla had nowhere to go if she left the house. Her father wouldn't accept her, and she had no friends.
With pressure blended in his mouth, he looked around and yelled, "Orla?" But she gave no response. He proceeded into the bathroom, the small adjoining room, but he didn't find her. "Damn! Damn!"
He hurried into the kitchen, checked the other rooms and still, he found no one. He clenched his fists into a ball, almost slamming against the wall. He had no idea where she could be and it drove him crazy.
"Where the fuck are you, Orla?" He muttered as he walked out of the kitchen, gently heaving the cat behind him. "Where can she be?" He had no idea, he had paid less attention to her and things that had to do with her, and now, he low-key regretted that he cared less about her.
Callan stood outside his mansion, eyes flickering back and forth. He heaved a weary sigh and was about to walk back into the house when he sighted a figure curled up close to the garden. She had different combinations of flowers perching on her hair and some in her hand. He walked close until he was right in front of his wife.
She looked so pale, paler than ever. He watched her for a few minutes, observing how she lost herself in her thoughts, which he was sure were about Betty. She smiled and suddenly burst into tears again.
He was drawn to her, he wanted to hold her in his arms, maybe place a soft kiss on her forehead and assure her that she would be fine, but the devil within him rumbled against his thoughts.
"Orla?" He called, causing her to jerk back in fear.
She looked briefly at him, instantly taking her eyes off him when she noticed that he was the intruder.
"Orla?" He called again, but she blatantly ignored him this time.