Chapter 97 - Chapter 96

@International_Pen

((( CLAIRE )))

One was Zhion's coat…

The other was Zhio's.  

I took them both and laid them gently on the mattress. The coats really looked expensive and intricately woven. No doubt it belonged to the CEO of the Zel Cantheliz Corporations. Good thing I didn't lost them or stupidly destroyed the fabric, else I'd be in great debt again.  

I looked up before at Zhion as high as the Twin Towers but now that he's become Zhio, he was suddenly higher than Burj Khalifa.  

He was gotten so unreachable.    

I found myself crazily pressed against the coat's fabric, smelling what was left of Zhio's scent. The perfume he's used still clung at the coat although I've had it dry cleaned a few many times. The fragrance was lasting and smelled more expensive than the Clive Christian perfume collection that Derick has.  

I still felt anxious to meet Zhio once more but whatever… Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.  

I have to give the coats back to him the next day no matter what.

The time ticked away and I didn't notice I've slowly drifted to sleep; the coats still tucked within my arms.

The sun has not risen that high when I sneaked out to bargain here and there until I got all ingredients I needed at the public market. And my most favorite of all…

Fresh fat prawns…  

I don't know if Zhio's allergic to it but I'd be cooking it anyway.  

I dashed to the kitchen to cook after I returned and watched satisfied as the prawns turned orange in the sizzling butter. The smell of garlic and some herbs made my stomach churn in hunger.  

I hoped Zhio would like it. It might not be as exquisite as the cuisines he eat but I wished he'd appreciate it. After all, he greedily ate some fries with me from the Drive Thru.

As I waited the sauce to simmer in low heat, my phone rang.  

Unregistered number. Must be Deo…

"Hello…"  

"I'm sorry Miss Claire. Zhio can't see you today," the poor signal made his voice sound gruff.

I glanced disappointedly at the dish I'm cooking. Well, I'd still cook for him for another day again.

"He's got a one way flight abroad," Deo continued.

One way flight? I felt a pinch inside my chest.

"H-how long?" I stammered.

"When is he coming back?

"

"Around five to eight years."

The cooking spoon slipped from my hand and my knees felt weak. My tongue tied in confusion and sudden sadness.

"I-is that so? I hope he'll have a safe flight."

"And it's your fault," he mumbled.

@International_Pen