Chapter 14 - The Last Night He Tried To Sleep
The waiting was the hardest part. After Guard One made the call, the room went quiet in a way that felt heavier than shouting.
Mr. Moradi stayed on the edge of the bed with his hands clasped between his knees. His robe had slipped a little at the shoulder and he didn't fix it. The lamp threw warm light across the marble and the gold mirror, and the red lights inside the cut in the headboard kept blinking. Steady. Patient. I tried not to look at them.
Guard One stood by the foot of the bed. He'd put his phone away. His gun was still out, but his arm looked tired from holding it up for so long. Nobody said anything for a full minute. I could hear the sconces humming faintly and traffic somewhere far below.
Then Mr. Moradi rubbed his face hard with both hands. The tattoos on his neck pulled with the movement. He stared at the floor.
"I haven't slept in four nights," he said.
I didn't answer. I kept my hands folded over my apron and let him talk.
He glanced up at the headboard, then away fast, like it burned him. "I would get in. I would tell myself I was being stupid. And then I'd just sit here. In this robe." He plucked at the white piping on his sleeve. "Lights off. Lamp on. Lights off again. Staring at that thing."
His voice was low and rough from exhaustion. Dark circles stood out under his eyes. He didn't look like a man who owned this room. He looked like a man who was afraid to be alone in it.
"I kept thinking I could feel it," he said. "Right behind my head. Like the bed was awake when I wasn't." He let out a short breath through his nose. "I told myself it was in my head. Lack of sleep does that."
I remembered the first morning I'd found the cover pulled tight, the pillows untouched. The way he'd stood in the doorway watching the bed instead of walking toward it. I had thought it then, but I didn't say it then. I said it now.
"I saw it," I said quietly. "That fear. That first morning. You looked at your bed like it had done something to you."
He looked at me then. Really looked. Not past me, not through me. His eyes were bloodshot, but focused.
"You didn't laugh," he said.
"No."
"You didn't ask if I was crazy."
I shook my head. "You weren't sleeping in your own bed, Mr. Moradi. That was enough."
Guard One shifted his weight. The gun dipped an inch, then came back up. He was watching the door, watching us, watching the headboard. I could see him fighting his own tiredness. Waiting does that to guards too.
Mr. Moradi leaned back a little on his hands. The mattress creaked. He stared up at the ceiling for a second, then back at the cut fabric with the yellow padding pushing out.
"When you put your hand on it," he said. "When you said you hadn't been sleeping in this bed. I wanted to tell you to leave it alone." He paused. "Part of me still wanted to sleep. Just pretend for one more night."
I nodded. My throat felt tight. I thought about my silver tool on the nightstand, the small slice I'd made, the way the fabric had given.
"And when he raised the gun," he went on, nodding toward Guard One without looking at him, "you kept going."
I glanced at Guard One. His jaw was tight. He didn't interrupt either.
"I was scared," I admitted. "I'm still scared."
Mr. Moradi gave something that wasn't quite a laugh. More air than sound. "You cut anyway."
"If I was wrong, you could fire me," I said. "That felt smaller than letting you get back in that bed not knowing."
He held my gaze for a long moment. The red lights blinked between us. He didn't look away from me this time.
"Thank you," he said. "For cutting. Even with the gun on you. Nobody else in this house would have done that."
I didn't know what to do with that, so I just nodded. My pearl earring felt cold against my neck. My hands were shaking a little, so I pressed them harder into my apron.
Guard One cleared his throat. We both looked at him. He looked at Mr. Moradi, then at me, then at the slit in the headboard. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his arm until the handgun pointed at the floor in front of him. Low ready. Not holstered. Not gone. But no longer aimed at my chest.
The change in the air was immediate. My shoulders dropped before I told them to. I took a breath that actually filled my lungs.
"No one's touching it till they get here," Guard One said. His voice was flat, but not hard the way it had been. "We wait."
"We wait," Mr. Moradi repeated. He rubbed his eyes again. "Elena stays."
Guard One gave a short nod. "She stays."
Mr. Moradi leaned forward again, elbows on his knees. He looked smaller like that. The beard couldn't hide how drawn his face was. He stared at the floor between his slippers.
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"One more night," he murmured, almost to himself. "Just stay awake one more night. Then let someone else tell me what it is."
I wanted to tell him it would be morning soon, that help was coming, that he could rest after. But I didn't promise what I couldn't prove. I just stood beside the nightstand where I'd started, close enough that he knew I wasn't leaving, and waited with him while the red lights kept blinking in the quiet room.
