Meet Up

(Camillai’s POV) “Are you sure that's enough? We have more strawberry jams in the pantry. I can't eat them all. You can take them to your house,” Becky said while busily filling the paper bag with freshly picked fruits from her garden. “Wait, I’ll get more cherries.” She was about to go back inside the house when I hugged her tightly from the back. “I’ll miss you, Becky,” I sweetly said. I could smell the scent of strawberries that had lingered on her clothes. "Promise me that you will come back. We still have a lot to do,” Becky said, her voice soft. "And remember, I'm always here for you." I nodded, my throat tight. "Thank you, Becky. I'll call you soon." Soon enough Kalel's car arrived at the facade of the house. I turned back to Kalel, who was loading the last of our belongings into the car. The jars of strawberry jam, their labels carefully crafted, sat nestled amongst the luggage. I took a last whiff of fresh air before finally approaching Kalel in his car. "Ready?" Kalel asked, his eyes filled with concern. I forced a smile. "As I'll ever be." The drive back to the city was silent, the hum of the engine the only sound breaking the tension. I stared out the window, watching the passing streets outside. Everything in Becky’s town is green, and you’ll know you're almost back in the city when the greenery starts to get replaced by establishments and tall buildings. I will surely miss this province. "I'm going to handle the media first," Kalel said, breaking the silence. "I need to set the record straight before things get out of hand." I nodded, understanding the urgency in his voice. The fake news had spread like wildfire, fueled by malicious gossip and fabricated accusations. I have underestimated Lester’s ability to turn things around. He has always been influential. I know that someone is helping him. And I’ll make sure to find out who the person is. "I'll go home," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I need some time to process everything." Kalel reached out using his free hand to touch mine, squeezing it lightly to show his support. "I know, Camilla. I'll be back as soon as I can. I already informed Butler Jin about your arrival,” he said. My lips curved into a smile. I don't know why I find it so strangely satisfying that he was able to win my most trusted person’s trust. I know Butler Jin very well, and he’s always been protective of me, especially after what happened. It makes me wonder what he did to win his trust. As the car pulled up to my apartment building, I felt a familiar knot of dread tighten in my stomach. The flashbulbs of the waiting reporters, the relentless questions, the accusatory stares – it was a nightmare I couldn't escape. "Are you sure you're okay?" Kalel asked, his voice laced with worry. “If you want I can escort you back to your apartment first.” I forced a smile, trying to project an air of confidence I didn't feel. "I'll be fine. Just go do what you have to do.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, making me feel a strange good feeling I have never felt before.. "Stay strong, Camilla. I'll be back soon." I got out of his car with a fake strong facade plastered on my face. As Kalel drove away, I stood alone, facing the throng of reporters. I tried to squeezed through them, the guards barely doing their job to keep me safe. This wouldn't have happened if Butler Jin was here. Where is he anyway? Kalel said he’d be on the way. The elevator doors opened, and I was immediately engulfed by a sea of faces. Flashbulbs popped, microphones thrust towards me, and a cacophony of voices filled the air. I found myself stepping back in the corner of the elevators due to the pressure. "Camilla, is it true you stole money from your ex-husband?" "Did you really cause your own miscarriage?" "Why are you trying to ruin his reputation?" I tried to push through the throng, but they were relentless, their questions a barrage of accusations and assumptions. They didn't even do fact check. They just want to milk out a statement from me that they could use in their articles to make the people go crazy. "I have nothing to say," I said, my voice barely a whisper. But they wouldn't let me go. They pressed closer, their lenses flashing in my face, capturing every moment of my discomfort. I’m starting to regret acting independent to Kalel. I obviously can't even breathe properly. The accusations, the whispers, the online hate – it all felt like a suffocating weight pressing down on me. "It's all over the internet," one reporter said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Everyone knows what you did." "Everyone knows?" a man scoffed, making my eyes wide in shock. I thought he left already? "They don't know anything. They don't know the truth." Kalel immediately used his body to block the persistent reporters. We pushed past the crowd, my heart pounding in my chest. I needed to get away, far from these people. But the reporters followed, their questions echoing in my ears as we made our way to my apartment. As I finally reached my apartment, I collapsed onto the couch, my body trembling. I watched as Kalel locked the door, my heart pounding in my chest. “I’ll get you water,” he said, walking to the kitchen. *Beep!* *Beep!* *Beep!* My phone buzzed, the screen illuminating my face with a pale, blue light. It was Lester. I put the phone in my ear. "Camilla, we need to talk," his voice was low, laced with a hint of seriousness.. "This media circus has gone on long enough. We need to put an end to it." "What do you want, Lester?" I asked, my voice strained. "I want to clear the air," he said. "I want to deal with this once and for all. Meet me at the usual place, tomorrow at noon. We can finally put this behind us." "The usual place?" I echoed, my mind racing. The usual place was a small, dimly lit café we used to frequent, a place where we had shared stolen kisses and whispered secrets. It was a place that held a bittersweet mix of memories, both happy and painful. "Yes," Lester said. "I'll be there." The phone went dead, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts. The usual place. What does he want? Is he finally going to admit his guilt? Is he going to apologize for everything? Or is this just another game, another attempt to manipulate me? I stared at the phone, my fingers tracing the smooth surface. I have to decide. Should I trust him? Fine… I’ll meet him.