Dressed in a sharp suit, Zach approached Madelyn with a sure stride. Startled, she stepped back, and
her shawl slipped off.
“You heard me?” she asked, voice trembling. “Zach, I’m not making it up; I swear, I saw my mom.”
Zach picked up the fallen shawl and placed it on the couch after brushing It off. He then took off his
coat and draped it over Madelyn. After adjusting a few loose strands of her hair, he hugged her gently,
“If you want to head home, we can. Kevin’s already booked our flight to Ventropolis for tomorrow.”
Madelyn nestled into Zach, feeling his steady heartbeat. She could not figure out why he seemed
different; his eyes were lost in the night’s darkness. An unfamiliar scent clung to him. It unsettled her,
but she did not move away. She had initially believed he was joking, but it became clear he was not.
By 8 a.m., they boarded a private jet. Zach cradled a sleepy Madelyn, her head on his lap. As he softly
played with her hair, he would sometimes drop a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Kevin said, “I’ve arranged for the best therapist. They’ll be in Ventropolis by tonight.”
“Good,” Zach responded with a deep voice.
Feeling a tickle by her ear, Madelyn woke up and quickly sat up, ‘Am I on a plane?‘ She saw clouds
outside.
Zach placed a breakfast tray in front of her, “We just took off. We’ll be there by 6 p.m. You should eat.”
She adjusted a blanket over her lap, “I’m not that hungry.”
“You need to eat. Do you want me to have a stopover?”
‘I get it.”
Madelyn picked up a spoon and hesitantly tasted the food, not feeling particularly hungry. As she did, a
bodyguard handed Zach a glass of milk. Setting it down before her, Zach said, “It’s at the right
temperature. Drink it after you eat.”
Madelyn looked at the milk, her fingers tightening around the spoon, “Thanks, Zach, but milk and I don’t
get along these days. Can I have
some water instead?”
“No fussing,” Zach replied, handing her a bowl of clam chowder.
“I wish I could, but it really upsets my stomach now,” she replied.
Zach gently ran his fingers through her hair to comfort and soothe her. Madelyn slowly finished her
meal and reluctantly drank all the milk under Zach’s watchful eye. The next moment, she clutched her
chest.
“Where’s the restroom?” Madelyn asked hurriedly.
“You’re feeling sick?” Zach asked with concern.
She just nodded in response.
“It’s up ahead. I’ll go with you.”
Before Zach could move, Madelyn jumped up and dashed to the restroom, her hand covering her
mouth. Soon after, she was bent over the sink, getting rid of what she had just eaten.
Zach stood patiently outside, focused on the restroom door. When he heard the sound of running water
about ten minutes later, the door clicked open. He saw Madelyn sitting on the floor, leaning against the
wall. Strands of her hair fell forward, concealing her pale face. She spoke, her voice tired, “In France, a
therapist told me I developed a condition because of something traumatic in my past. Even though it’s
been four years. I never saw it as a real illness.”
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