Bastian
Chapter 176 - Appropriate Line

✧Appropriate Line✧

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The rain was intermittent all night long. During the brief lulls in the downpour, Bastian went out into the back garden for a smoke and watched the fog roll over the countryside. In those quiet moments, the imminent approach of war weighed heavy on his heart.

   As he put out his cigarette, he noticed that his wrist was not bandaged. It was an unusual mistake. He tugged on the cuff of his sleeve to cover the wound. It was not healing easily, after being agitated every night for weeks on end. He went into the kitchen and heard the stairs creek.

   With a sigh, Bastian went out into the hall, determined to help Odette so that she didn’t make her ankle worse, but she was already halfway down the stairs. She gave him a defiant look, daring him to offer help. Odette had drawn a clearly defined line and if he crossed it, it would only result in unnecessary conflict.

   “How’s your ankle?”

   “It’s fine now,” Odette said, hiding her pain through a pleasant enough smile. She was still suffering from a mild fever, but it was not enough for her to be considered properly sick. Bastian was not so easily fooled, but he let her have her way, once again, to avoid conflict.

Odette carefully took the rest of the stairs and hobbled her way into the kitchen. When she heard the stairs creek, she gave a sigh of relief, as Bastian was heading up to the first floor. Accepting help from him would be a mistake, she knew that, but she didn’t want to lead him on in any way. After yesterday’s chaotic picnic, hopefully the next 3 days will go by without incident and she could go back to her quiet life.

She wanted to have a good farewell. 

   The relationship was always something she ran from, like a coward. Maybe the reason she couldn’t let go of any of her regrets was because she never truly gave the arrangement a chance, but if they could spend their last remaining days together well, then they could finally say goodbye properly and end their marriage on good terms. No regrets.

After kneading the bread, Odette searched the kitchen for more ingredients and found plenty of eggs.

   “I will help you make breakfast,” with his sleeves rolled up, Bastian suddenly stride into the kitchen. She hadn’t heard him come back down the stairs.

   “No, you can wait for me upstairs,” Odette snapped.

   Bastian ignored her and turned his attention to the bread dough. “Does this need kneading?” He smiled at Odette as if he had just told a joke.

   If he was going to insist on helping, fine. “Yes, and those vegetables need chopping.” She broke the shells of several eggs.

   The kitchen quickly filled with the warm scents of breakfast foods. The bread went into the oven and the sausages went onto a pan, over a fire. Bastian was peeling potatoes and doing a very bad job of it. The pile of potato skins looked to be more potato than actual skin. Odette did her best to refrain from making a fuss, even though Bastian was more of a hindrance than anything else.

   “I think the talk of your swordsmanship was greatly exaggerated, if those potatoes are anything to go by.”

   “A potato and a kitchen knife are vastly different from a sword.”

   Odette noticed the mark on Bastian’s wrist. “What happened to your wrist, why is it like that?”

   “It’s nothing, I got hurt during a training exercise,” Bastian said flatly, dumping a crudely skinned potato into the pot.

   “Is it serious?”

   “No, just a scratch.”

   “Really?” Odette said, looking sceptical. The bandage looked fresh and new. She definitely didn’t remember seeing it before. He had been on leave from the Navy for a few days, so his cuts should have healed and he shouldn’t still be wearing bandages.

   “Are you calling me a liar?” Bastian said, giving her a grave look.

 Odette’s cheeks turned faintly red, “No, I didn’t mean it like that,” she said quickly and turned away. She used the spitting sausages as an excuse to turn away. The kitchen fell into a deep, awkward silence, filled only by the sizzling sausages.

   Once the vegetables were cut, Bastian went to the dining room to set the table. Odette sliced up the vegetables properly and started work on the omelette. The bread was baked and the soup was thickening. The only thing left was to prepare the drink and she took out the coffee container. 

“I want some tea.” Bastian, back in the kitchen, unexpectedly asked for it. “How about you?” His voice, reminding her of rain, reached her again. 

Odette opened the cupboard and took out the teapot. On the breakfast table, there was a clear distinction: one cup of coffee and one cup of tea, each placed separately. Odette’s boundaries were clearly drawn once more.

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The day flowed by as gentle as the rain outside. Once breakfast was done, they both spent the day separately. Odette sat in the living room, by the window, concentrating on her embroidery. While Bastian sat in the corner, reading a book.

   Odette knew there wasn’t a single book in the house that suited his taste, but she didn’t attempt to interfere, she wanted to maintain the distance between them. A good parting. That’s what she hoped for.

   The cold and the fatigue overcame her at some point and without realising, she drifted off to sleep. She woke in the late afternoon, far later than she would ever intend, surprised to find a blanket wrapped around her.

   It was far too late for lunch, so Odette pushed it from her mind and leaned back in her chair. She looked over her shoulder to the corner where Bastian had been sat reading. He too had drifted off to sleep. They had taken a lazy Sunday nap together. It was a serenity she never thought they would ever share.

   For a long while, Odette sat in the chair, looking out of the window, only occasionally looking over her shoulder to Bastian. When the hour grew too late to put off dinner any more, she stood carefully, doing her best not to disturb him. He looked tired. As the light outside faded and the light in the living room grew in strength, the lines on his face made him look even more tired.

Even if he got his years of desired revenge, the tragic end of the Klauswitz family didn’t bring him joy. Maybe if his father had passed away as his planned two years earlier, his family’s downfall might not have been so heartbreaking.

   When the thought of how they had hurt each other so badly, she stifled a laugh. She did not want to put this man through any more hell and with escape in sight, she hoped they both could forget the pains of the past and be happy.

For the sake of each other, they needed to stop here.

  As she tiptoed out to the kitchen, she was relieved the day had passed by already, it meant there was 2 days left until he would have to leave. She was confident that she could maintain a distance between them.

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Odette was startled awake from her slumber. She had taken a does of cold medicine after dinner and retired early. Only to be woken in the middle of the night. She got up and rushed over to the window to see what the commotion was, but there was nothing. The night was clear.

   Drawing the curtains back, Odette concluded that she much have startled herself awake through her dreams brought on by her cold, but then a loud bark of noise came from across the hall, from Bastian’s room.

   Odette threw a shawl over herself and hurried over to his room. There were more noises, something that sounded like someone struggling. She knocked on the door, panic overcame her.

   “Bastian?” There was no response. Only the sound of stamping feet and something being dragged about. Odette knocked again, more urgently. “BASTIAN!” she said, practically shouting his name.

  The painful moans that could be heard from inside.  She tried the door knob, but it was locked from the inside. She tried with all her might to try and jimmy the door open, but it was shut tight.

   “BASTIAN!” she shouted, hammering a fist on the door. “CAN YOU HEAR ME BASTIAN!? ARE YOU OKAY!?  PLEASE ANSWER ME, BASTIAN!” 

“I’m…fine,” came a weak voice, as she considered fetching the key.

   “What’s happening?”

   “Just a nightmare, its okay now, I’m fine.”

   It sounded like he was right on the other side of the door, but chose not to open it.

   “No, I don’t believe you,” she said, the words coming out as a strangle of noise. “Please open the door, Bastian.”

   She kept knocking for several minutes, the line she had so carefully drawn between them now completely forgotten.

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