Chapter 6
“Patrick really is something,” he said, loosening his tie. “He actually handed over a woman like you to me.”
Maisy struggled hard, but he pinned her down like it was nothing.
Hovering over her, his fingers brushed her cheek. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?”
“Let me go…” Maisy’s voice shook. “Don’t touch me…”
Seeing her so afraid, Mills just laughed, his fingers lingering on her face. “Alright, I’ll give you a shot. Call Patrick. If he picks up, I’ll let you go.”
Maisy’s hands trembled as she dialed Patrick’s number.
Once, twice, three times… over a hundred calls. Not a single answer.
“See, Maisy? To him, you’re nothing now.”
“Come to me. I’ll make you happy.” Mills grinned, pressing her down and yanking at her dress.
Just as he was about to force himself on her, Maisy snapped back to reality, grabbed the vase from the bedside table, and smashed it into Mills‘ head.
He grunted and collapsed. Maisy bolted, running out into the pouring rain.
She stumbled her way home, soaked to the skin, bruises darkening her arms.
As she pushed open the door, she froze.
Melinda was curled up in Patrick’s arms, crying her eyes out.
“Would you really risk your wife’s life for me?” Melinda sobbed.
Patrick wiped her tears away. “Yes. You mean the most to me.”
Melinda cried harder. He gently held her face. “Hey, I got you out, didn’t I? Why are you still so scared?”
“Who wouldn’t be, after being kidnapped…” Melinda whimpered.
Patrick gave a crooked smile. “I know a way to help you forget.”
“I don’t believe you…”
“Let me show you?” he teased.
Then Patrick leaned in and kissed her, easing her down onto the sofa.
Maisy stood there, watching, her heart aching like it was being ripped in half.
She turned away and stepped back into the storm. The rain soaked her all over again, but she barely felt it.
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20:40
Chapter 6
She didn’t know how far she ran–just that she ended up in front of that old house she knew by heart.
She and Patrick had grown up here, next–door neighbors, their families inseparable. Childhood memories clung to every corner.
Rain slid from her hair as she walked into the backyard, stopping under the old elm tree.
She remembered: when she was eighteen, she and Patrick buried a time capsule under this tree, promising to dig it up together ten years later.
“Maisy, by then we’ll be married for sure.” Patrick had grinned, slipping a letter into the tin box. “I’m writing to my future self–he better never stop loving you.”
Maisy dropped to her knees in the muddy earth, clawing at the dirt with her bare hands.
Her nails cracked, her fingers bled, but she didn’t care.
The tin box was rusted, but the letter inside was perfectly safe.
Her hands trembled as she unfolded the paper. Patrick’s young, messy handwriting stared back at her:
“To Patrick at twenty–eight:
If you ever stop loving Maisy, I swear I’ll never forgive you.
Remember–she’s your whole world.”
Rain splattered the page, blurring the words.
Maisy pressed the letter to her heart and sobbed until she couldn’t breathe.
She missed that teenage boy who blushed when he wrote her love notes, who promised to protect her forever.
“He broke his promise… He broke his promise…”
She whispered it into the night, as if the boy Patrick used to be could somehow hear her.
She sat under the tree for a long time, until the rain finally stopped.
Only then did she reach into her bag, pull out the ninety–eighth love letter she’d written, and set it on fire.
20:40
