“What surfaced from your past?”

“I can’t quite grasp it…” Elissa’s brow furrowed in concentration, her complexion resembling fresh snow. “Just shadows and impressions, nothing concrete.”

“This is entirely normal,” Hamza interjected with practiced reassurance. “At this stage, you’re experiencing only disconnected fragments. Further sessions will help arrange these pieces into a coherent narrative. The neurological exertion alone explains her current exhaustion. Complete rest is essential when you return home—her mind needs time to process.”

“Understood. Thank you for your expertise.” Ernest’s words carried genuine gratitude.

They departed the sterile environment of the clinic, and Ernest drove Elissa back to Lion Bay, guiding the vehicle through afternoon traffic toward the sanctuary of her home. With attentive care, he escorted Elissa to her quarters and gently eased her onto the plush surface of her bed, arranging pillows behind her with unexpected tenderness.

His gaze lingered on her ashen features, his eyes softening with an emotion rarely displayed so openly. “Rest now. Let everything else fall away.”

“My throat feels parched,” she whispered, her voice slightly ragged. “Would you mind bringing me some water?”

“Consider it done.” Without hesitation, Ernest rose and strode purposefully from the room, his footsteps fading down the hallway.

His smartphone remained abandoned on the polished surface of the nightstand, an oversight unusual for someone typically so meticulous. The device suddenly erupted in vibration, the unexpected movement jolting Elissa from her exhausted haze. Her eyes drifted toward the illuminated screen where “Bonnie Holland” pulsed in bold letters, demanding attention.

Bonnie? The name registered like an electrical shock to her system. When had she and Ernest established this connection? How deep did their communication run?

The vibration ceased, leaving an unnatural silence in its wake. Elissa’s gaze remained fixed on the now-darkened device, her thoughts suspended in a state of numb disbelief.

g?lnσνs?cóm is your escape

“Elissa.” The door swung inward as Ernest reappeared, a glass of water carefully clutched in his hand. “Here, this should help.”

“Thank you.” Elissa’s fingers closed around the cool glass as she settled against the headboard, taking measured sips while struggling to maintain a neutral expression.

Ernest’s hand moved toward his phone, retrieving it with casual efficiency. As he scanned the screen, a subtle transformation rippled across his features—a momentary tightening around the eyes as he glanced toward Elissa.

“I should respond to this call,” he announced, his voice carefully modulated to convey nothing beyond routine obligation.

“Okay.” Elissa’s head dipped in a performance of indifference that cost her considerable effort.

Ernest pivoted away, putting calculated distance between them before his thumb tapped across the screen, initiating the connection. Seconds later, his voice carried across the room despite his lowered tone.

“It’s men. I missed your call earlier. Really? I understand… I’ll meet you shortly.” The call ended with a tap of his finger before he rotated back toward Elissa, his expression carefully composed.

“You should focus on resting.” His voice adopted the gentle cadence reserved for the ill or infirm. “An urgent matter requires my attention, so I’ll need to leave you for a while.”

. Newest update provided by FindN()vel.net

.

.