WHERE IS OUR SON?

“I am so sorry if this seems like too much of an impose, Mr. Azzua, but I am just looking for ways we can get any leads. We should not ignore anything at this point. We owe Deep this and much more. He is being haunted by things he knows nothing about. He didn’t deserve that ordeal at all.” Gia pressed, while Mrs. Azzua recharged herself with steaming coffee.

Mr. Azzua looked at his wife. The bitter sense of the load was sitting on her chest, choking his throat, making him swallow hard the lump that was forming in her heart. They had almost broken up back then when his wife learned about his involvement with Hellen. When the news about Hellen’s pregnancy reached her, it tore her into pieces. It took decades for Mr. Azzua to convince her not to end their beautiful love. She only had one demand, and that was that neither she nor her husband would ever see that bastard child. And that Mr. Azzua would cut off all his communication with his other woman. And the agreement lived up to the letter, but now their dark past was catching up with them.

Mr. Azzua’s gaze softened with pity, worry, and deep regrets as he gazed at his wife’s pale face. “I know this is not easy for you, and neither is it for me, but I have to break the promises that I made to you, Joy. Gia has a good point. We have to do all that we can for Deep’s sake. And for us too, because we don’t know who Ejay will target next. You understand, right?” He pleaded with a deep but soft voice, full of love and adoration, his hands soothing his wife’s shoulders.

Mrs. Azzua took another big sip of her coffee. One would have thought that the coffee was actually cold to sip that huge amount in a go. “Only for the sake of my son.” She said she was looking away from everyone. She added. “Do it!”

Mr. Azzua nodded, dipping his hand in his pocket, and fished out his phone. He really took a long time scrolling through his contacts, a clear indication of the long-lost contact with the latter. His heart was pounding in the chest, the questions of how his own fresh blood could turn into such a heartless rogue beast lingering through his head.

The wind whispered through the surroundings, blurring every other voice as Mr. Azzua finally made the call of hope, his heart pounding against his chest. He hadn't seen nor heard from Hellen for over thirty years; since that day, the record was set straight, and all cards lay on the table. Decades had passed, but the pain and the unanswered questions lingered within him like an open wound.

His knuckles rapped under the table, the sound echoing through the silent area. Moments stretched into an eternity, leaving everyone choked by anxiety and anticipation.

In some other place, a dim light illuminated a small thatched house, revealing a woman whose once bright eyes were now dulled with the passage of time. She was desolate and lonely, and poverty was etched in her every sense that depicted her existence.

Her small old handset buzzed beside her on the small, broken wooden table, pulling her from her engrossed thoughts. ‘Mr. Azzua?’ Hellen gasped, her voice laced with astonishment and a hint of fear, when she saw the name that was displayed on the small screen.

With a divided mind and a ripple of fear that caused loud and rapid throbs in her heart, she pressed that receiver button, anxious about the reason behind why she was receiving the call after thirty years and why all bonders that had been set back then were almost ripping off the little strength she had in her being.

“Hello!” Her voice was faint, her miserable eyes squinting through the empty house, taking in the loneliness and pain that she had been sampling and the guilt that she had been bathing in for years. Lazily, as she waited for the voice to come through from the other end, she cruised her weak eyes through the dimly lit living room, adorned with faded photographs and memories frozen in time. The air felt heavy with anticipation

The call took a long time to come through, denoting the decades of separation that they had gone through.

Mr. Azzua had taken time to digest that voice, remembering it from long decades ago. It was nowhere close to the charming voice he knew back then that sounded like a sweet melody to his ears. It echoed with so much brokenness. "Hellen? Hellen, is that you?" Mr. Azzua began, his voice trembling slightly, as the hearts of everyone raced with high hopes.

"Yes. You remembered me after so many years? This must be a miracle!" Hellen's voice was soft, tinged with a mix of hurt and curiosity.

Mr. Azzua hesitated, gathering his thoughts before he spoke. ”Yes, it is, Hellen. I need you to clarify something for me.”

She cleared her voice. “What about?”

“About our son! Ejay, I heard that is the name that he goes by now.” Mr. Azzua spoke with so much bitterness. Not so much for the woman, but for his son, who had betrayed all his values and rights as an Azzua. Such behaviors were unacceptable and unforgivable. He did not deserve to belong to such a dignified and distinguished family as the Azzuas. That was a big stain. A big failure. A big regret. The negative impact of the spotless Azzua image that they now had to clean up.

Hellen's gaze faltered for a moment, her mind going blank and her eyes shutting with pain. Her son? "What son are you talking about?”

Mr. Azzua scoffed. “Don’t you play jokes with me. I am talking about that bastard I had with you. That murderer that you raised. Is he with you right now?”

“Look, I accepted all your insolence before. I took everything that you and your fucking wife threw at me, but that was then. I am not taking any sh*t from you, and most especially, not mockery. How can you be so insensitive?” Hellen fumed.