3: Trouble in Paradise

Slam! A silver prius was unsurprisingly the most inconspicuous vehicle that Adriel Alvarsson was able to think of on a whim. It was common enough in their current part of the U.S but still not so common as to be an obvious choice for an undercover vehicle. That, and he refused to ever be caught in a jeep. Their latest voyage took place just past 9:30 pm on a Monday.

Yanire's eyes laid out the window with a vehement and sharp irritation in them. She had yet to speak a word as the man beside her clicked his seatbelt in place- she hadn't even known where it was they were headed. He knew that she was irritated but the extent was lost on him. He gulped thickly, glancing in her direction.

The reality of their current situation was a stressful one and it wasn't helping that Adriel couldn't seem to admit the truth to her. He had sat her down this morning to discuss the matter of furthering their safety protocols, now that they were meaning to start a family together. Yanire had quickly shut down this idea. She didn't want to be watched or followed by some ominous bodyguard- nor did she find the idea of installing cameras in their home to be savory. She didn't understand what the man's fuss was about and all of it had come as a complete shock to her.

For a moment it seemed possible to compromise that the cameras would only be installed around the outside of the home, until Adriel began insisting it was still necessary for one to be on the inside of the front door to show anyone who managed to get in. By this time, the woman had started to look at him aghast and vaguely horrified. She felt like his paranoia was completely random and, admittedly, that was his fault. 

He hadn't started the conversation out of the blue- hell, it had been pretty immediately after an event which left him uncomfortable. Yet somehow he hadn't been able to stare into the woman's coffee brown eyes and tell her that they might not be very safe.

Furthermore, it was hard to look at the love of your life and try to picture things without them. Adriel's eyes traced the outline of her jaw as he sat one seat over from her. The driver carried forward as though they hadn't noticed the tension between the passengers. Most all the workers close to Mr. Alvarsson were aware of his wife Yanire, many of them adored her. 

Some time passed before Adriel made eye contact with his driver in the mirror. The man was calm-looking, with a bushy mustache and wrinkles around the corners of his eyes from a lifetime of laughter. His name was Thomas and he was one of the two personal drivers that Adriel employed to help with transportation.

Thomas was a grandfather to six boys and a girl on the way. He was and had always been a family man, having found himself a wonderful partner who he wanted to grow old with. The reason he took a retirement gig as an on-call nighttime driver for the Alvarsson company was to have more time at home, after all.

Thomas raised a judgemental brow at his employer, eyes gesturing towards Mrs. Alvarsson in all her agitated glory. Thomas had his fair share of experience with angry women in his lifetime. Adriel looked back with wide blue eyes, confused. He wasn't so quick to catch the driver's meaning, partially being that he was surprised to see someone else involve themself at all. Eventually he followed the man's gaze and realized what was meant by it all.

The driver refocused himself on the empty, curving road in front of him, their momentary interaction dissolving. Adriel slipped a nervous hand somewhat across the empty seat separating himself from his wife. Yanire didn't move when she felt his hand touch hers, and for a moment, he worried that he had made the wrong move.

Soon enough, her fingers begrudgingly interlaced with his and his heart shuddered in relief. They were going to be alright.

___________________________________________________________________________

Yanire awoke from the dream, an itchy gasp leaving her throat. The slow twirl of the ceiling fan above her was a cruel slap to the face and she felt her eyes start to water. The woman had never been much of a crier before, but lately she found herself weeping more than she had for the duration of her lifetime thus far. It turned out that she was a silent crier, the sort who's uneven breathing and occasional sniffling were the only noises that could give her away. 

She realized very quickly that this last interaction with Adriel was the very last one in her mind at all and her chest ached. Whatever had happened afterwards- this was the last time that she had spoken to Adriel, and it had been an argument. 

Regret was one of the feelings that Yanire regarded as most futile. She knew that there was no way to make up for things which had already been done and most often had no trouble accepting that. This time though, the regret was a heavy rock at the bottom of her stomach, weighing her down to the bed. What if she never saw him again?

What if the very last words she'd spoken to him were angry?

What if her very last memory of him was the sad look in his eyes like he was a puppy who'd just been kicked?

Yanire wasn't sure that she could take it. 

_____________________________________________________________________________