Page 6 of Broken Bonds

Ignorance is bliss, but in this case the truth shall set me free.

I’m going to Los Angeles, and I’m getting the answers I deserve.

Lionel Kral will recover, and when he does, I’m going to kill him for all the lies he told me.

Chapter 3

“Don’t forget to call as soon as you arrive, Stella,” my mother reminds me as we arrive at the airport.

I kiss her on the cheek. “Roger that, Sergeant.”

My mother makes a mouth gesture that’s so characteristic of her before she starts to flutter around me, making a mental inventory of what I’m taking.

“Look at the security line,” adds Val. “You have to go right now.”

After another round of hugs and blessings, I get in line behind a group of smiling young women excited for their vacation.

I appreciate their shallow conversation, their talk about bikinis and lipstick distracts me from my problems or the ones I’ll face when I arrive in LA.

I sit in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the terminal while I wait to board the plane for my first flight ever. Flying doesn’t scare me, but my mind is a mess because I don’t know what I’ll find when I get to my final destination.

I called the hospital, but they refused to tell me anything, even after I told them I’m his wife. Marriage is supposed to make everything stronger. In my case, it feels like I’m trying to run a marathon while carrying a tractor’s wheel on my back.

Mission impossible.

A thousand things go through my mind, thoughts bigger than me and I don’t even understand them.

Lionel got assaulted in the middle of the street in broad daylight.

Someone wanted to kill my husband, who turns out is a real estate mogul.

And now he’s teetering between life and death—at least that’s what the news anchor said.

It’s overwhelming and disturbing.

The worst part is I don’t know what I’m going to do if something happens to him.

I thought that we’d grow old together, buy an old vineyard, and bring it back to life while raising our kids.

He stole those dreams from me with his lies.

And yet my heart aches for him, for what’s happening.

What kind of trouble did you get yourself into, Lionel? Why were you shot?

What’s going on? What haven’t you told me?

The first of the two flights leaves me in a confused fog between despair and anger. Thinking about how small everything looks from above, how minuscule our existence is.

How vast the world is.

And yet, my entire world is laying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life.

The layover becomes long enough to drive me crazy, and with each passing mile, my anxiety grows and grows.

“You’re a nervous flyer, right?” I turn to see the man sitting next to me. He looks like the stereotypical grandfather from movies, with white hair, rosy cheeks, and a pair of reading glasses on the tip of his nose.

“It’s my first time,” I reply.

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