Free Web NovelChapter 51: Chapter 51 - The Affair
Nights passed before the woman in the quarantine room finally opened her eyes. She claimed not to remember what had happened, her voice trembling, her gaze empty.
The words only made Iyisha more suspicious. Wounds too shallow, blood too much, memory too convenient. Nothing added up.
Since then, Malcolm had turned into a machine beside her. He spoke only when necessary, his answers clipped to the bone. No warmth, no glance that lingered. And wherever she turned, Therese seemed to hover at his side, her laughter soft, her hand finding reasons to touch his arm. Each time Iyisha saw it, frustration knotted deeper inside her.
At least the medics were different. Teaching them gave her something solid to hold onto, something that didn’t twist with doubt. She sighed as she walked across the dim paths toward the greenhouse.
It was late, the sky dark with heavy clouds, and the greenhouse doors were locked. Ester had pressed a spare key into her palm days ago, knowing Iyisha sometimes slipped in at night to clear her head. Tonight wasn’t for peace. She only meant to fetch a herb she wanted to show her students in the morning.
The greenhouse smelled of wet earth and crushed leaves. Iyisha crouched low, plucked the herbs she needed, and tucked them into her pouch. She was already turning toward the door when faint sounds carried through the rows.
Her brow furrowed. Voices.
At this hour? She thought of Ester, remembering how she sometimes slipped in late to tend the seedlings. Relief settled briefly in her chest as she followed the sound toward the storage room at the far end.
Her hand brushed the doorframe, ready to push it open, when the sounds sharpened into soft moans. Iyisha’s breath caught, her cheeks warming. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
At first she thought perhaps Ester’s husband had joined her here, a private moment between spouses. She almost turned away, embarrassed to have overheard.
But a shift of movement drew her eye to the gap in the door. Against her better judgment, she glanced through.
The sight rooted her in place. Ester, her pale hair tumbling loose, pressed hard against the stacked sacks, her body arching as she clung to the man pinning her there. And him—white hair, broad shoulders, the easy dominance of a man used to taking what he wanted. Elmer.
Iyisha staggered back, heart pounding. Ester and Elmer.
Her hand shook against the cool glass pane beside her. The greenhouse suddenly felt smaller, as if the air itself might choke her.
Iyisha backed away from the storage door, her pulse racing so loud it drowned the sounds behind it. She didn’t stop moving until she was out of the greenhouse, fumbling the key into the lock with trembling hands. The night air struck her face, sharp and cold, but it did little to steady her.
She all but ran to the room they had been given, her breath uneven, her pouch clutched tight against her side. When she pushed through the door, Malcolm was seated at the table, stripping a rifle with slow, practiced movements. He looked up once, then back to the weapon as though she hadn’t burst in at all.
"I saw them," she blurted, shutting the door behind her. Her chest rose and fell with every breath. "Ester and Elmer. Together. In the greenhouse."
Malcolm’s hands didn’t pause. He slid the bolt free, inspected it, then set it down with deliberate care. "And?"
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean and? He’s their leader. She’s—she’s supposed to be trusted. It’s an affair."
Finally, Malcolm’s gaze lifted to hers, cold and level. "Not your concern."
She shook her head, heat rushing to her cheeks. "How can you say that? What if—"
"Mind your own business," he cut her off, his voice clipped, final. He turned back to the weapon, the scrape of metal louder than her pounding heart.
Iyisha stood rooted in place, words caught in her throat, the weight of his dismissal pressing down harder than the secret itself.
Iyisha stood stiff in the middle of the room, her pulse hammering in her ears. His words cut sharper than the rifle parts clicking under his fingers.
"You can’t just tell me to ignore it," she said, her voice rising despite herself. "They lead this place. Everyone looks up to them, trusts them. And they’re—" She broke off, her throat tight with anger and disbelief. "It matters."
Malcolm slotted the bolt back into place with steady precision. "Not to us."
Her hands curled into fists at her sides. "So we just pretend? Walk around blind while they lie to everyone?"
He finally looked at her, his eyes flat, unreadable. "We’re guests. This isn’t our fight. The less you know, the safer you are."
The words hit her like a door closing in her face. She wanted to scream, to throw the truth at him until he cared. But his attention had already dropped back to the weapon, his hands calm, his movements mechanical.
"This can destroy the peace here," Iyisha said, her voice sharp, her frustration spilling. "If people find out—"
Malcolm cut her off without looking up. "It will, if you say something."
She blinked, stunned. "That’s not what I want."
His hands moved with steady precision, sliding the cleaned barrel back into place. "Then keep your mouth shut. They can throw us out any time, and you know what’s waiting outside those walls."
"I’m not trying to get us thrown out," she said quickly, stepping closer, her breath catching. "I just—" Her words faltered, her chest tightening with the weight of it. "I don’t want to live with lies."
Malcolm finally lifted his eyes to hers. Cold, unyielding. "Then don’t look too close."
The finality in his tone silenced her, but the ache in her chest only grew, heavy and unresolved.
"Drop it," Malcolm said, his voice flat as he set the rifle aside. "Sleep. You’ll need it tomorrow."
Iyisha stood frozen, her nails biting into her palms. The way he dismissed her, as if her words carried no weight, burned hotter than the memory of what she had seen.
She turned away, tugging at the ties of her dress with sharp, angry fingers. The fabric slid from her shoulders, pooling around her feet. Left in her underwear, she pulled back the blanket on the bed and slid underneath without another word.
The mattress dipped beneath her weight, cool sheets brushing against her bare skin. She faced the wall, her breaths sharp and uneven, the silence between them pressing harder than any argument.
Behind her, Malcolm moved only once, turning off the light until the room sank into darkness.
