It had felt surreal, like a terrible nightmare for the first few hours that she was locked in a room that had nothing save for a small dirty piece of mattress on a dusty floor. The room had an usually cold temperature.
It wasn't long before the cold started biting into her skin and reaching into her bones to rattle them. She was locked in there for two days and was given no food or water.
Before then, she did not know that the room existed in the mansion. That act of cruelty was a wakeup call for her. That was when she really started to believe that he hated her irrevocably and that there was nothing she could do to change it.
Her body rapidly weakened. Lips turning pale blue from the cold. Her strength slowly leaving her.
Her eyes slowly fluttered open to the familiar surroundings of her bedroom. The soft scent of expensive cologne lingered in the air as sunlight penetrated in through the windows. A doctor was beside her, checking her temperature.
The doctor had strongly advised for her to take some analgesic drugs and avoid putting herself in the cold. Ezra loomed over her with his usual glacier expression as the doctor leaves. "Hope that was enough punishment for you to come to your senses." He said, voice devoid of any warmth.
"Know your place Callista."
She obeyed and keyed to that even though it hurt her so much. With nothing else to do, she began to look forward towards her own death.
The very week came, around the time of her twenty-fourth birthday. Ezra had merely dropped by like he always does. As one final act of desperation, knowing the fact that she wouldn't see him again, she went to him and demanded that he stayed with her that day. But he merely give her a cold look and shoulder like he always did. He shook her hands off and even wiped the arm of his shirt that she had held. It was as if he had came in contact with dirt and not a fellow human being who was his wife.
That was a whole nother layer of cruel awakening. Later she got a call from her doctor that there might be a chance for the lumps in her brain to be successfully removed by a surgeon who specializes and had successfully treated a case similar to hers. In surmise, there was a chance to save her life.
But it was very risky, the chances of success were slim and she needed to prepare for the worse. The doctor emphasized that. Callista got her things together after signing the divorce papers that Ezra had long given her to sign and went to the hospital. She told no one about it, not even her mother.
She told the hospital not to contact her family members until after the surgery was done—if successful. She signed the surgery consent form on her own, paid parts of the fees. Now here she is on the operating table, trapped inside the peaceful darkness of an induced sleep. Having no hope at all that she would come out of this but still trying anyway.
One final gesture for the hope of a miracle.
**************************
THREE YEARS AGO
Everyone knows the day they are born. But not everyone knows the day they would die. You would have to be a supernatural being with mystical powers of foresight.
Or be terminally ill.
Callista Rollings belonged to the second part. A lump in her brain was diagnosed at the age of eight. It was surgically removed when she was ten. But it came back again at eighteen. And it was not a typical case of relapse that could just be removed by another surgery. The lump regrew at a spot that would make surgical removal impossible.
At the age twenty-two now, those were like a ticking time bomb that could detonate and kill her any second. But there is a time frame to it. The doctors told her she would need a miracle to make it past twenty-four. Callista Rollings refused to hold on to the idea of a miracle to save her.
From the age of ten up until now, all the things she hoped for never happened. Like for instance, when she developed a crush on a boy when she was twelve. It grew into a budding teenage love.
And she had fervently hoped that he would one day notice her. He never did. The news of his engagement that broke the internet hours ago was the final, final straw that broke that hope into splintering pieces. After so many years. She is heartbroken and also relieved at the same time. At least now she can give up hoping and wishing.
Then there was the time she hoped for her sickness to go away so she could be healthy. That didn't also happen. And it got in the way of her artistic dreams.
Hope for a miracle to make it past twenty-four would be more hurtful when her soul leaves her body at exactly that age. Expectation is the root of all heartache. Whoever said that couldn't be more right.
Callista sighs wistfully, scrolling through every picture of him she could find on his Instagram page. She feels the screen, wishing she could touch him. Be with him at least once. Her love for Ezra Grey is something she never told anyone. A deep secret.
One that she only lets surface and come to life in her imagination whenever she is alone or at night. Something she quietly admits to herself time and again. The intimate photo of him and his girlfriend, Alyssa pops up on screen. Callista was unable to scroll up and not see it. She stared at it for long minutes. Her heart hurting with a dull and still somewhat sharp pain that should have been less hurtful by now. "How can I write you off my heart Ezra?" She mutters quietly.