The gravity of the situation was unmistakable from the profound seriousness etched across Ravel’s countenance. I carefully observed his actions as he terminated his ongoing call with Raymond, gently slipping his phone into his pocket. Curiosity piqued, I couldn’t help but ask, “Rav, what’s weighing on your mind right now?”
Without a word, he approached me, his firm grip on my hand indicating the urgency of the impending conversation. Slowly, he led me toward the cozy confines of our living room. As he guided me to a seat, he spoke softly but with a obvious sense of gravity, “Please, take a seat. What I’m about to discuss is of utmost importance.”
My brows furrowed deeply, and a knot of worry tightened in the pit of my stomach as a torrent of distressing scenarios inundated my thoughts. The anxious unease welled up within me, and I fervently clung to the hope that whatever Ravel was about to reveal wouldn’t unleash an unbearable burden. With a tremor in my voice, I pressed him for answers, “Ravel, something’s amiss, isn’t it? Please, tell me, is Daisy okay?”
Sensing the anguish that was consuming me, Ravel came to a sudden halt and tenderly turned me to face him. Gently, he cupped my cheek, his touch a balm to my spiraling panic. “I need you to keep your composure,” he implored, his voice soothing. “Daisy is safe, and nothing will happen to her. I’ve been in contact with the detective, and as of now, there are no new developments regarding her case. This, however, isn’t about her.”
Summoning all my strength, I took a deep, steadying breath, attempting to regain control over my emotions. “Alright,” I acquiesced, my impatience still palpable beneath the surface, “I’ll try to stay calm. So, what’s going on? What is it that you need to share with me?” My tone wavered between curiosity and frustration, and I couldn’t help but add, “Ravel, if you don’t tell me now, I fear I might lose my sanity.”
“I want to reveal the true reason behind our divorce,” Ravel disclosed, “but I need you to be patient until we’re in the privacy of our bedroom.”
Ravel’s revelation had left me both intrigued and perplexed. As we stood on the precipice of our bedroom, I couldn’t help but let my curiosity spill out. “Why is it so imperative to discuss the reason behind our divorce right now?” The uncertainty that had initially gripped me was giving way to a mounting sense of bewilderment. I had braced myself for grim news, only to find the conversation taking an unexpected turn into our past. “Ravel, are you genuinely serious about this?” My words bore a hint of disappointment, a mix of emotions swirling within me.
Ravel, undeterred by my skepticism, let out a heavy sigh and shook his head, his expression pensive. Without uttering a word, he gently tugged me further into the bedroom, keeping me in suspense. The silence in the room was deafening, and my questions loomed unspoken, kept at bay until the sanctuary of our bedroom.
Once the door securely clicked shut, I could contain my inquiries no longer. The anticipation was palpable in the air as I quizzically demanded answers, “What’s happening, Ravel? Why bring up our past now?” The floodgates of my curiosity burst open as I awaited his explanation.
He strolled over to the bed, sat down, and patted the space beside him with a small smile. “You are the most impatient woman I’ve ever seen Hazel and I find you cute regardless.”
Rolling my eyes at his sentiments, I walked over to the bed and sat down. “Now isn’t the time to try patronizing me, but for real though, what’s going on?”
“First, I want to apologize for not telling you about this earlier.” He apologized before stating What exactly the problem was, and if I must say it wasn’t a good sign. If Ravel apologizes at the beginning of his statement, that means he fucked up big time. “I know I should have said something and I didn’t and for that I really apo_”
He is rambling. “Get to the point Rav.” I interjected, “I don’t know what you’re going to say at this point, but I don’t think anything can beat the current situation we are in right now, so go for it.”
“You know Mr. Harrison was murdered right?” He asked out of the blue, catching me off guard by the sudden question.
“I know he was killed Rav.” I saw it in the news back then, but I didn’t care a bit to read deeper into it. “Why exactly are we discussing him?”
He pulled out his phone and scrolled through it before dropping it on my thighs. Right before my eyes, I watched a video of me threatening Harrison the day he tried to sexually molest me. Surprised, I lifted my head and blinked at Ravel. “Why do
have this video?” How did he even get it?
“Someone sent that video to me Hazel, a few days to our anniversary,” He rasped. The more he revealed, the more my eyes widened with shock. “You do realize that the same way you threatened Harrison was the same way he was killed.” He swiped to the next image, an image of me holding a butter knife that same day. “You were seen with that knife Hazel, the same knife that was ruled as the murder weapon, and which mysteriously went missing.”
Shocked beyond comparison, I blinked rapidly at him. “I didn’t kill Harrison,” I blurted out quickly, “I have nothing to do with his death.” He can’t possibly blame me for this.
“I know you didn’t do it Hazel, but the authorities won’t think the same.” He mused, “Sebastian and I have every reason to believe that the person who sent this video to me is not only obsessed with you but also had a hand in the kidnapping of Daisy.