We spent the last two weeks of June enjoying the hell out of ourselves in Thailand. I seriously had the best time since losing Greg. The people were friendly, the food was delicious, and the weather was gorgeous. There was no shortage of things to do. We went swimming in the daytime and fine dining in the evenings. Cheaper country or not, I sometimes wondered where Christian found the money for us to live so lavishly. Not that I didn’t contribute to some of the expenses, but I figured it was none of my business, so I didn’t ask.
One day, we went snorkeling, and Christian and I ended up getting rather close to each other as he held me firmly by the waist when we were in deeper water so I could adjust my goggles with both hands. It actually felt good to be in his arms. We even kissed a few times before exploring the sea below.
I knew that if he hadn’t tried to force anything on me by now, he likely never would. Still, I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted from him. I knew I wanted him in my life, but I wasn’t sure I wanted anything more than a close companion, especially given that I was getting older and didn’t see sex as a top priority the way one often did when they were young.
We rode around the area a few times with Abdalla as our tour guide. Christian wanted to get a better sense of potential places to live in, since he seemed quite set on relocating to the area.
It was late on July 1st when we returned to Norway, exhausted from all the activity yet replenished by the sun and fun. As cute as Christian’s rental was, and as nice as Guinevere had been, I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be returning to Bergen—any more than he was—since there really wasn’t much to do there but dread the inevitable cold to come.
It was noticeably cooler as we exited the airport, half asleep on our feet. We didn’t talk much on the way home, but as we got close, Christian said, “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll get us back down there for good sooner or later, so this isn’t forever.”
I smiled, turned to him, and said, “I know. Hopefully it’ll be before the cold sets in.”
“I’m setting things up with work in hopes of that happening. But sooner or later, we’ll get there. For now, we should still have pretty good weather for six to eight more weeks.”
“I know,” I said again with confidence. “For now, you’ve got an adorable place and a great landlady.”
It was true. There was something I really liked about Christian’s place itself. It was in a quiet, pleasant neighborhood, and the layout of the condo was nice. Maybe it would always be sort of special, simply because it was where we had started off.
We quietly pulled our suitcases—and our tired bodies—up to our place, careful not to disturb Guinevere below due to the late hour.
Too tired to bother showering, we collapsed into bed—his bed—where he fell asleep right away.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t fall asleep, as tired as I was. Instead, I lay there staring at the dark ceiling, my thoughts pinging between the past, present, and future. At least I was comfortable, and the night was peaceful. All I could hear was Christian’s soft breathing and the occasional whoosh of a car passing by on the street below. At one point, I heard the faint whistle of a train far in the distance.
Sleep was just overtaking me when a ferocious pounding rang out from the door below.
My eyes snapped open to strange flashing lights reflecting on the ceiling. They kept changing colors—red, blue, red, blue, red, blue… It took me a moment to realize they were police lights, shining through the window and onto the ceiling.
Christian awoke with such a start that his sudden movement nearly flung me off the bed.
“Oh fuck!” he exclaimed.
“What is it? What’s going on?” I asked, confused and scared.
“It’s the police.”
“But what’s wrong?”
He jumped up and started throwing on clothes. As he pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he said, “Oh, babe, I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you real soon.”
“Tell me what?!” I demanded, my anxiety ramping up.
“They might be here to arrest me and accuse me of something that didn’t quite happen the way you’re likely to hear it did.”
“What did you do?”
“There’s no time now,” he said, placing his hands on my arms. “I’ll contact you as soon as I can. You’ve got money saved. If I can’t get back, you can probably stay here if you want, or return home, or maybe even go to Thailand.”
What. The. Fuck.
The pounding grew fiercer, and the officers began shouting in Norwegian.
I grabbed my robe and tied the belt tightly around my waist as I hurried to the window and looked down at the street.
“POLITI,” read the bright yellow-green and white cars parked below.
I followed Christian out of the bedroom and remained in the living room while he darted down the stairs to open the door.
And then… he was arrested for murder.
And I was left alone.
Dumbfounded. Stunned. In total shock and disbelief.
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