Ding!
As Nathan entered the fifteenth-floor corridor, where polished mahogany doors opened out on either side like gateways into private spaces of luxury, the soft chime of the elevator disappeared behind him.
Plush red carpeting muffled his steps as he went toward the 1503 suite. His keycard slid softly through the reader and then clicked mechanically.
The door slid open.
Nathan entered a universe he had never known. It was a realm, a space that exuded wealth rather than merely whispered it.
To Nathan, the room was wide, spacious, and brilliant. Recessed ceiling lights created a soft, golden glow. Stunning views of the Manhattan skyline were revealed by floor-to-ceiling windows spread over the other wall. Rising majestically among the other lights of the city, the Empire State Building glittered like a gem.
Inside, thin Persian rugs surrounded elegant, understated furniture. A large king-size bed, covered in snow-white sheets and black silk pillows, rested like a throne in the middle of the bedroom. Beside it, a walk-in closet yawned open, already loaded with new robes, slippers, towels, and upscale grooming kits. Slightly in the air, lavender and cedarwood smelled refined and peaceful.
Nathan moved farther in and softly hissed the door closed behind him.
He said nothing in the first several minutes. He just stood still, staring about the room. The silence was liberating, not empty or unpleasant.
Nobody else could scream his name.
Nobody barking directives.
There was no mother-in-law tossing champagne bottles since the brand did not fit her taste.
No Marie.
Just Nathan Oaklore. And a suite to follow his every whim.
He laughed softly, incredulous.
"I can do anything," he said to the vacant room. "Anything."
He moved to the marble-tiled bathroom after throwing his rucksack on the deep leather couch.
Surrounded by gold-trimmed glass, a shower as expansive as a dressing room waited. Turning the knob, he saw steam start to occupy the room. There was stable water pressure, and as for the temperature, divine!
Nathan undressed and entered the hot cascade, closing his eyes as the water carried away not only dirt and sweat but also pain.
Now, with the aid of Enhanced Healing, the water penetrated his bruises and effectively removed the bitterness from the past few days.
Nobody was knocking on the door screaming for him to hurry—first in years.
Nobody was in need of a towel.
Nobody was keeping an eye on the clock to chastise him for "wasting time."
He spent as long as he wanted standing beneath the shower.
He dried off and then slipped into one of the hotel's thick robes. It smelled like hygiene and sunlight—fresh and warm. He sloppily tied the belt, made deliberately slow movement across the warm flooring, and sank onto the bed.
He meant to go to sleep.
But he failed.
Ten minutes passed by. Then twenty.
His mind refused to be still. Originally liberating, the silence now reflected buried noise.
Marie's voice kept playing in his head, pissed and yelling at him. Her voice carried a hollow ring of derision.
His mind replayed his past experiences at the hands of his wife and her family members. He recalled the flavor of inexpensive instant coffee, which he had often taken after not eating for hours and sometimes, days. He experienced the numbness of not being able to hear anything after he was once slapped deaf by his father-in-law.
But now, the feeling of being invisible amidst a large room filled with gold was overwhelming.
Nathan sat up and peered out the window once more.
He was not weary. He was... void.
He went for the phone next to the bed; the black screen already lit with the digital assistant display of the hotel. Nathan pressed a button for reception.
On the other end, Clarissa's gentle, composed voice greeted him. "Good evening, Mr. Oaklore. Clarisse speaking. How might I be of help?"
Nathan blinking. He had not expected her to still be on shift.
"Hello, I apologize if it is late. I'm simply curious here. This evening, what can I get?" Nathan asked politely.
"Sir, room service is open twenty-four-seven. Are the menu choices what you would want?" Clarissa responded, her response ultimately becoming a question.
He hesitated, then started to grin even though she couldn't see him. "Surprise me. Something friendly. And something nice."
Clarissa paused for a moment before she continued speaking. "I understand, sir. Count on delivery within fifteen minutes."
Nathan laughed when the call ended. "Something sweet," he said in a whisper. Previously, he was never allowed to choose dessert.
Exactly seven minutes later, a knock on the door sounded.
When Nathan opened it, a full uniform chef was pushing a chrome trolley into the room.
The man bent slightly, his voice polite and clear. "Good evening, Mr. Oaklore. Braised lamb with herbed potatoes, buttered asparagus, and fresh garden salad with vinaigrette, and for dessert a trio of cheesecakes: vanilla, blueberry, and chocolate tonight."
Nathan blinking. "This is... for one person?" he asked.
The chef answered, "Yes, sir," with a charming smile. "For clients in the presidential suite, it is our standard solo service portion."
"Damn," Nathan said, still in awe. "Thank you."
When the chef straightened the plates on the table, he bowed once more and left silently.
Nathan sat down, fork in hand, and bit first.
He sampled not only lamb and potatoes. He made sure to eat from every delicacy present.
He felt liberated.
Every chew, taste, and buttery note was a small rebellion against years of silent suffering. Every swallow reminded him he no longer belonged to anyone.
Nobody was responsible for him.
He could slow down his eating.
He was entitled to ask for more.
He could refuse.
With his stomach full and heart just a little lighter, he finished the dinner in quiet delight and then cleaned just enough to crash back into bed.
He passed off this time as well.
But not for long.
A few hours later, his phone buzzed next to the bedside table.
He rolled over and started to groan.
Three missed calls made the screen brilliant.
Marie,
Marie's mum.
And an unidentified number.
Nathan fixed his blank gaze on the screen.
He sighed, then pushed a button to flip the phone face down.
He was unprepared for whatever conversation they wanted to have with him.
Not quite yet.
Later on, sleep came more naturally. He didn't get to dream. There was only silence and stillness in the room.