WINGLESS AND BEAUTIFUL: Episode 61 to 70

?WINGLESS AND BEAUTIFUL?

?EPISODE 62 ?

Hunter asked behind me. I turned around to look at him. He’d been watching me look at his chessboard coffee table.

“I don’t know,” was all I could say. And it was the only
answer I had. I didn’t know if I wanted to play against the
genius chess master in front of me.

I didn’t know if I wanted
to remember our first date. I didn’t know if I could sit in front of him for hours and pretend that we didn’t have a bomb hanging over our heads, ready to drop and blow everything out of proportion.

I didn’t know if I could endure Hunter’s snide remarks and insulting glares. I didn’t know if I could be a hypocrite and pretend I could take any more of his refusal to acknowledge me… and our past.

He walked towards the coffee table, opened the drawer
and took out the chess pieces.

He quietly set the board up
and then he sat on one of the couches. He raised a brow at
me and waited for me to sit in front of him.

When I didn’t budge, he frowned. “It’s not like you’re going anywhere,” he said dryly. “At this rate of the storm, it looks like we’ll be stuck here for an hour, maybe more.”

I sighed and sat on the chair opposite him. Playing
chess would keep my head preoccupied with other things.

It would be a challenge to beat him in this game, but it sure
would be easier than trying to figure out what I had to do
about him in real life.

I moved my pawn. He moved his. I moved my knight. He
moved his bishop. I put my pawn as bait, he refused to take
it. Instead, he took another move that took me on a
crossroad. Take him down or take the higher road.

In a way, in real life, Hunter and I were playing chess. It
was all mind games. Each of us trying to read the other,
anticipating the other’s moves, strategizing how to save our pieces, refusing to give in to the other and trying our best to walk away broken but victorious.

Finally, I was down to my two pieces. Hunter with four. I
reached for my bishop and hesitated. When I looked up,
Hunter was looking me intensely. He was studying me.

I couldn’t read the emotions on his face. In his eyes, I saw
disbelief and admiration that I lasted this long. But we both
knew the inevitable. Only one of us could win this game.
Only one would walk away scathe-free.

And sadly, it wouldn’t be me.
I sighed and moved my piece. The only possible move I
could make. Hunter never took his eyes away from me. He
didn’t have to look where I put my piece. He reached
forward and moved his queen. And in a soft whisper, he
said, “Checkmate.”

I flicked my king gently in frustration. I leaned back on
my seat and stared at the chessboard. I sat there for a
whole minute, just staring at my fallen king. Realization
crept through me like a treacherous friend waiting to stab me in the back. I would not win this.

When I raised my eyes to Hunter, I found that he was
staring at me as intensely as I was staring at my fallen
chess piece. His eyes were boring holes through my soul.

His expression was a mixture of frustration, anger and
sadness.

He won. But why was he staring at me like it wasn’t
enough? Like he wasn’t done yet?

“Don’t you ever get tired of winning?” I asked in a weak
voice.

He didn’t answer at first. Then in a sober voice, he
replied, “Who said I ever win at all?” I thought there was
anger in his voice again, but he was trying to control it.

Before I could open my mouth to say something, a booming sound interrupted us. Hunter finally took his eyes off me and stared at the glass doors outside where the rain was stronger than ever.

“I never said thank you,” I said. “You know… this
afternoon. You saved me. What you did was dangerous for
you… for your…” I trailed off.

It is true. He shouldn’t have jumped into the lake water
without protection on his eyes. It was dangerous for his
transplant.

When I looked up, I found that Hunter was studying my
face again, as if he was trying to read the emotions behind
my words.

Then he sighed and said, “It doesn’t matter.” He
paused for a while and added, “I don’t care anymore.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, trying to control my
voice. I remembered what he said when he left. He wanted
to do the transplant so he could protect me.

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