"Sweetie, I...I just wanted to see you, to say I'm sorry, I..."
Kicked into the flowerbed, Hans clutched his abdomen, his expression one of agony as he crawled out and staggered to his feet. Lizetta, still reeling from the shock, shuddered violently once more.
Remington's gaze swept over fiercely, "Get lost!"
With that, he no longer paid Hans any heed, bent down to scoop Lizetta into his arms, and made a beeline for the building.
Inside the elevator, the bright lights shone on their faces.
The steady and strong heartbeat resonated in her ears, while the familiar scent of wood and a hint of cold spice filled her nostrils, reminiscent of the times when, as a child haunted by nightmares, all it took was being close to Remington to feel safe again.
Nestled in her brother's embrace, she felt fearless once more.
"Liz, he's gone now. You're safe here with me, I'll always be by your side, okay?"
Remington's voice was gentle and soothing above her, gradually calming Lizetta down.
She opened her eyes but avoided Remington's concerned gaze.
"I...I'm much better now, you can put me down..."
She struggled slightly, but in truth, she was still weak, a residual effect of her overwhelming fear.
Remington, looking at her pale lips, of course, wouldn't let her down.
"We haven't crossed the river yet, and you're already thinking of dismantling the bridge? Don't move, be careful not to fall."
Considering she was pregnant, he was extremely careful, always wary of pressing too hard against her belly, thus his arms were a bit suspended, not allowing her to fully lean against him.
When the elevator doors opened, Remington, still cradling Lizetta, headed to the apartment door before finally setting her down.
He leaned her against himself as he keyed in the code.
Lizetta had moved upstairs a couple of days ago, into the apartment Remington had transferred to her name.
The original code was Lizetta's birthday, also their wedding anniversary.
However, as Remington entered it, it was evident the code had changed.
She had changed the password.
But every date of significance from her childhood, every common password she used, Remington knew them all too well.
After two more unsuccessful tries, it was clear something was wrong.
Remington was about to attempt again when Lizetta pushed his hand away and entered the code herself.
She didn't shy away from Remington's gaze, who could clearly see the numbers she pressed.
A tightness formed in his chest, a shadow crossing his eyes, as he mumbled, "You've memorized the divorce date even before we're divorced?"
The password had changed from their wedding anniversary to their divorce date. Was she reminding herself constantly of the divorce, making sure she never looked back?
"Mhm." Lizetta hummed, pushing the door open.
As she stepped forward, Remington bent down to carry her again.
He entered, kicked the door shut behind him, and swiftly placed Lizetta on the couch.
Lizetta curled up, hugging her knees, her face still void of color.
Remington gently touched her head, "I'll get you some warm water, are you okay by yourself?"
Her head nodded slightly under his palm, like a small, soft animal.
He grabbed a cashmere throw from the couch, covering Lizetta, before quickly heading to the kitchen.
Lizetta lifted her head, silently
watching his retreating figure, her
frightened heart gradually settling,
her hands, however, tightly clenched, her expression still somewhat
dazed.
At eight years old, she was beaten to a pulp by Hans, managing to bite off his right ear in the process.
After that night, she never saw him again.
Hans ended up in jail, ironically not for child abuse, which was hard to convict, but for seriously injuring someone in a betting shop, thanks to Remington pulling some strings, resulting in a sixteen-year sentence.
All these years, Lizetta had never seen him, almost considering him dead. She hadn't expected to encounter Hans tonight, utterly unprepared for the shock. Truly frightened, she was fortunate that Remington had arrived in time, or else... Lizetta stroked her belly, which was unusually active, feeling a sense of aftershock. But Hans's sentence wasn't up yet, how had he gotten out?
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