Chapter 2—Obstacles
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As they stepped back into the cottage, the familiar coziness embraced them. Gabriel, ever attentive, took charge of preparing dinner for Constance, moving with a graceful ease in the kitchen. Watching her husband move about, his hands skillfully chopping ingredients and the aroma of cooking filling the air, brought a sense of comfort to Constance. She settled onto the sofa, sinking into its familiar cushions, and allowed herself to bask in the warmth of the moment.
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A sudden, piercing ache tore through her head, as if an invisible force was trying to pry open her skull and tear apart every inch of her brain. Agony coursed through her, leaving her writhing on the floor, her body contorted in pain.
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In the midst of her suffering, Constance couldn't help but question the fairness of her circumstances. "How did I deserve this?" she whispered, the words escaping in a voice strained with anguish. Tears welled in her eyes, a manifestation of the physical and emotional torment she endured.
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Gabriel, startled by her cries, rushed to her side, his concern etched upon his face. With a mixture of urgency and determination, he knelt down, gently cradling her in his arms. "Take deep breaths, Constance," he pleaded, his voice filled with a blend of worry and unwavering belief in her strength. "I believe you can make it through this."
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Constance, her voice quivering amidst the pain, managed to nod in agreement. "O...Okay," she gasped, her breaths shallow and irregular. Grasping onto his words as a lifeline, she followed his guidance, striving to regulate her breathing. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.
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Recognizing the urgency of the situation, Gabriel swiftly rose to his feet and hurried towards their bedroom, his footsteps echoing with a sense of purpose. Constance remained on the floor, her body trembling with pain.
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After a while, Gabriel returned, holding a cluster of various-looking medications in his hands. Among them was a small glass bottle containing a pungent mixture that emitted a scent of mint and something unfamiliar to Constance's senses. "Take this," Gabriel instructed, extending the bottle towards her.
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Curiosity mingled with concern, Constance questioned the contents of the bottle. "What is it?" she asked, hoping for an explanation before ingesting the mysterious concoction. However, Gabriel's demeanor grew stern and urgent. "There is no time for this, Constance," he replied firmly, a note of impatience in his voice.
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Feeling a rising sense of distress, Constance raised her voice, insisting on understanding before proceeding. "I need to know what this is first," she implored, her anxiety mounting. But her pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as Gabriel's aggression escalated. He grabbed her hand forcefully and led her outside, his grip tight and unyielding.
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They arrived at the backyard of their house, where Constance's gaze fell upon a meticulously arranged row of plants. Something about them seemed oddly familiar, yet she couldn't place it. Confusion etched her features as she questioned Gabriel's intentions. "Why do I need to see this? Why did you bring me here?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and distrust.
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His eyes locked with hers, Gabriel revealed the truth. "Those are opium poppy plants," he admitted, observing her reaction closely. Noting the lingering doubt in her expression, he continued, "This plant is one of the strongest painkillers. The mixture I attempted to give you was made with mint and a concentrated extract from these plants."
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As Gabriel spoke, the pain that had plagued Constance intensified, causing her to crumple to the ground once more. Desperate for relief, she complied with his insistence, taking the mixture from his hands and swallowing it in one swift gulp. The liquid carried a bitter taste, tinged with the promise of potential relief.
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Gabriel's words echoed in her ears, warning her of potential side effects, including a strong desire to sleep. Her body succumbed to the effects of the concoction as he gently lifted her into his arms and carried her back inside, laying her softly upon the bed. The world around her began to blur as drowsiness enveloped her senses, beckoning her into a deep slumber.
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Constance awoke after an hour or so, finding herself in the master bedroom of their cottage. As she rose from the bed, she couldn't help but notice that Gabriel was nowhere to be found. A mixture of curiosity and concern stirred within her, prompting her to make her way to the kitchen in search of answers.
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However, upon reaching the kitchen, the absence of Gabriel's presence lingered, leaving her with a sense of unease. Determined to find solace and clarity, Constance ventured into the garden, hoping to locate her husband and bring some semblance of understanding to her swirling thoughts.
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As she stepped through the backyard, her eyes were drawn to a breathtaking sight—a fountain meticulously crafted to mirror her own silhouette. Its graceful contours and intricate design held a certain enchantment, yet beneath its surface, she detected an intangible void—an absence of life and emotion that left her feeling unsettled.
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Compelled to approach the statue, Constance found herself captivated by its stoic gaze, the eyes devoid of any flicker of expression. And then, as she took a step closer, her foot unexpectedly collided with something metallic hidden beneath the grass. Intrigued by the unexpected discovery, she crouched down, her fingers gently brushing against a small metal panel adorned with exquisitely carved letters.
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With anticipation, Constance carefully removed the panel from its grassy concealment, revealing the beautifully etched letters "W&H." Their presence ignited a surge of curiosity and wonder. But before she could fully comprehend their meaning, someone or something was trying to open the panel.
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A shiver of fear coursed through her, prompting Constance to instinctively retreat. Her heart raced in her chest as she hastened back into the cottage, her trembling hands reaching for the familiar comfort of the radio. With a flick of a switch, the soothing melodies filled the room.
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A minute later, Gabriel entered the room with a soft expression and a gentle smile. He approached Constance and affectionately kissed her forehead. "Are you feeling better, my love?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. Constance responded with an enthusiastic nod, grateful for his care and presence.
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Curiosity lingered within her, and she couldn't help but inquire about his whereabouts. "Where have you been?" she questioned, hoping to uncover the reason for his sudden absence. Gabriel's demeanor shifted, his face growing serious. "I went to the village to acquire more remedies for your headache," he explained. A sense of gratitude welled up within Constance, and she looked at him with a warm smile. "Thank you," she said, appreciating his efforts to alleviate her pain.
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Feeling a growing sense of trust, Constance decided to broach a more delicate subject. "Gabriel, may I ask you something?" she inquired, her voice laced with a mix of curiosity and vulnerability. His response came without hesitation. "I am an open book, my dear," he reassured her.
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Summoning her courage, Constance posed the question that had been on her mind. "How did you come to possess those opium poppy plants?" she asked, her gaze fixed upon him. After a brief pause, she continued, "And why would you grow such strong painkillers?"
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Understanding the weight of her inquiry, Gabriel nodded empathetically. "Constance, before we were married, I served as a soldier. I sustained a severe injury on the battlefield, which caused chronic pain in my hip bones," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Even now, I rely on these strong painkillers to help me endure the ongoing discomfort."
Constance absorbed his words, her heart softening with empathy for his past struggles.
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"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you," Constance admitted, her remorse evident in her voice. Gabriel smiled, forgiving her doubts, and proceeded to retreat to their bedroom, carrying a book in his hands.
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Curiosity got the best of her, and Constance softly asked, "What's that?" Gabriel's smile grew as he replied, "It's a notebook. You can use it as a diary to write down your thoughts and experiences so you won't forget anything again." Constance's face lit up with gratitude, appreciating the thoughtful gesture.
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Opening the notebook, she picked up a pen and began to write, capturing the events of the day. Each stroke of the pen felt empowering, as if she was reclaiming her memories and preserving them for the future. The diary became her companion, a vessel to bridge the gap between her past and present.
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