Chapter 5 - The Seven Challenges

Henry unceremoniously dropped the plate on one of the kitchen work table.

Chef Kitori eyed the unfinished dish of Smoked Chicken California Roll, studying what supposed to be the dotted sweet soy sauce garnish. The chef swiped on one of the dots and gave it a taste–oyster sauce. Impossible.

The chef went back all the way towards the kitchen and grabbed paper sheets hanging on the wall before making his way back to Henry and gave it to him.

"It's the requisition form list for tonight's event. All ingredients we used is listed in there. Tonight, we do not use oyster sauce," he explained as Henry turn over the page, eyes scanning the ingredient lists.

Chef Kitori turned to the working staff member of his kitchen, and with an authoritative voice spoke. "Everyone. Stop what you're doing and empty your pockets. Now."

Henry frowned, following just behind the chef as they circled around the kitchen. Chef Kitori's eyes were dagger as he observed everyone. Scanning for any sign of nervousness or fear. His reputation was on the line.

Along their search, there was a young man carrying a bottle of dark liquid that turned out to be cough syrup. Aside from that, there was no one carrying anything resembling what had garnished Annika's dish this evening.

Eventually, Chef Kitori proved that he or his team had nothing to do with the incident that evening, while at the same time reinforced the fact that someone on purposely tried to harm his fiancee.

"My sous chef did the sushi under my observation and I was the one doing the sweet soy sauce garnish specifically for Miss Mendez' meal. This," Chef Kitori nudged the long, white sushi plate with distaste, "Someone else wiped the garnish I made and replaced it with oyster sauce. Not me. Not my staff."

"Do you see anyone around the dish before it was served?" asked Henry.

"Me, my sous chef, a waiter. We even took precautions and make sure Miss Denali had a last quality check before food is served."

Lika.

Henry's heart went up to his throat.

***

Henry Kingsley's study room had never felt more cold, even before with its glistening chrome accent that lined the dark wallpaper ever so tastefully, and the sleek obsidian glass desk sitting neatly in the center of the room.

Lika stared at Henry dumbfounded; bile made its way up her throat.

Henry ran his hand on his dark curls, a bitter laugh escaped him. He rubbed his tense jaw, shaking his head at her. Lika's eyes stung the moment she saw the arctic in his usually gentle blue eyes.

"Don't," he warned.

"You don't believe that," Lika choked, her eyes pleading, "I would never–"

"Save it!" Henry snapped, his eyes both fiery and cold, "Do you not realize what you've done? You almost killed my bride before I even marry her!"

Lika's shoulders shook as she cried, unable to hold her feelings back. There was no sympathy in Henry's gaze when he looked at her.

"Un-fucking-believable," he cussed, angrily took out his frustration at a pile of books sitting on top of his desk and threw them all in one swipe of his strong hands across the floor. Lika flinched. The pain in her chest and stomach multiplied as he turned his body away from her, opting instead to look at the clear window overlooking the mini forest he had in his home.

He hated it when Lika cried. A part of Henry would always drawn to comfort her. But this time, she was out of line. She and Annika didn't always see eye to eye–this Henry noticed. But it never even crossed his mind that Lika would do something so despicable.

That his own best friend would have the heart to do such a thing to him.

He didn't believe that Lika meant to kill Annika with whatever stupid...prank, she thought she had in her head. He knew she was not something sinister. But what she did hurt someone that he cared about–that was something Henry could never tolerate.

"I think it's best if we take a time out," his own words left a bitter note in his tongue, "Go home, Eliska."

Her sobs were the only sounds that filled the room. Lika looked at his back to her; the muscles on his shoulder and neck tensed. She never quite seen Henry being so angry. So faraway–especially not with her.

"Please Henry," Lika wept, reaching a hand on his shoulder.

Don't send me away.

He flinched from her touch, as if her hand burned him.

"Get out," he ordered sternly, turning his head sideways but still not looking at her, "Don't make me repeat myself, Eliska. Don't even bother coming to my parent's tomorrow."

Ten years.

Lika wiped her tears strained cheek and wobbled out of the room, feeling like he just ripped her heart out of his chest. She didn't know how she even managed to get to her car with her brain being fried inside her skull.

Her stomach churned violently. The short woman heaved and threw up her dinner next to her car, her tears streaming down her face. Her phone rang in her bag.

Hope rose within her. Maybe it was Henry. Maybe he finally realized that she didn't do it to Annika. Maybe he called her to stay, to apologize.

Fumbling, Lika took her phone out, not expecting to be so crushed that it wasn't Henry who was calling her at 00.11 a.m.

She accepted the call, bringing the phone to her ear. "Denali," she announced with as much normalcy her own voice could muster at the state she was in right now.

"Hello, Miss Denali. I'm very sorry to bother you so late. I'm calling from Stratford-Winsley Nursing Home. Could you come by now? It's your aunt."

There was hollow in her stomach at that. "What happened?"

There was a brief pause from the end of the line. "Miss Denali, I am very sorry to inform you that your aunt had just passed... due to sudden heart attack."

***

The inseparable best friends were now as if they were an ocean away.

Henry and Annika walked out from the hospital and find dozens of camera flashed at their faces. The paparazzi bombarded the couple with questions, all related to last night's incident. Henry had his arm protectively around Annika's.

"It was an accident. I accidentally ate someone's delicious seafood and got an allergic reaction. I'm alright now. Thanks for your concern," said Annika cheerfully to the reporters.

Henry finally managed to get her inside his black sedan. Once inside, he drove away from the paparazzi. Somewhere in the middle of a deserted road, he pulled up and leaned to Annika, giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"What you did back at the hospital..." Henry was unable to finish his sentence, but there was adoration in his eyes when he looked into Annika's eyes.

She beamed. "I wouldn't press charges. I wouldn't drag her name in the mud over something that is inconsequential."

Henry had an adoring smile on his face. "You are an angel. Thank you for doing this," he murmured to her lips before kissing her softly.

"Though..." Annika hesitated, "Is Eliska–"

Henry shook his head. "No. I promise you she won't get anywhere near you. You're safe with me now."

Annika smiled; her expression both relieved yet sorry. He pulled her into his arms again and held her close.

***

The beach at Hastings were deserted in Winter.

Eliska stood in her beige wrapped coat and a pair of black leather gloves as she stood by the edge of the water with her aunt's remains in the urn she held with care to her stomach.

Opening the lid, a tear escaped her eyes. She thought she had no more tears left, yet here she was. Over the past 48 hours, her world had turned upside down. Lost her best friend, lost her job–but she still couldn't quite wrap her head around losing her aunt.

Lika remembered her bright eyes that wasn't aged or wither with time as the rest of her. Aunt Mercy loved to travel. There was no surprise that her last wish was to be cremated and her remains to be scattered across the ocean. Even in death, her aunt despised staying in one place.

Hell, had her old age and dementia didn't take over, the two of them would have been somewhere backpacking across Asia. They never did get the chance.

Lika scattered her ash into the ocean, sobbing as she did so. She should've been saying something to her. Saying goodbye. She couldn't.

If being dumped by Henry felt like her heart being ripped out of her, then losing her aunt felt like someone ripping her soul out of her body. The next few days was spent in her house doing basically nothing.

She did try to call Henry. A few times. He declined her call. Funny how things had turned out. Lika always thought that Henry would always be by her side until she was old and grey, that he would be the one holding her hand even when her beloved aunt couldn't anymore.

Lika played with the golden pendant on her neck and opened it. She looked down with grief still in her wet eyes at how young and healthy her aunt and her mother were. She closed the pendant that her aunt left her, turning to the drink she had in her hand.

Abusing alcohol was by far the only solace she could get her hands on. She wondered if aunt Mercy was going to turn in her grave at seeing the way she mourn her.

Piles of letter on her kitchen island caught her eyes. With a sigh, Lika dragged her fatigued mind and body up from her couch and towards her kitchen. Lika had a wistful smile on her face as the pads of her fingers grazed the letters that her aunt had left for her. She unwrapped the ribbons that piled the letters together and studied the sequential numbers on each envelope with a frown.

Letter number one.

Lika hesitated, wondering if reading her handwritten letter would be another tearjerker episode. Exhausted, Lika asked herself: How much more did she have to cry? How much tears needed to be spilled to rid herself of the gaping hollow inside her chest?

She considered herself warned and went ahead tearing the glue on the first letter.

My dearest, Lika,

If you read this letter, it means I'm gone. Please do not mourn me too long. Remember me as the loving aunt that raised you. Know that I've had a great life. I traveled the world in my youth. I gained life experiences that money could never buy. When I look back at how I live my life, I find that I have no regrets, except that I am leaving you all alone in this world to fend for yourself, after years fighting my battles for me. In this, I know that I have failed you.

My mind has not always been my own. But whenever my mind is sound and my eyes are clear, I am determined to give you something to remember me by. I have no riches, no amount of wealth to leave behind. Yet if you bear with me and take this last trip with me, I can promise you that someday, you will grow old enriched with the experiences and wonders that I had. And when you look back, you will have no regrets.

Here before you, I wrote you seven letters, each containing a challenge–a dare, if you will. Finish one challenge, then move on to the next. Consider this my last gift to you.

Sincerely not saying goodbye just yet,

Your Aunt Mercy

~

Challenge No. 1
THE ROAD LESS TRAVELED

My dearest, Lika,

It is good to be productive. To work hard and bear fruits. To follow one's ambitions, to search and collect riches.

But do you live? Or are you a hamster, caught in a spinning wheel, unable to stop, not knowing when to rest? Or are you an ant that works so diligently day after day gathering resources, only to have someone else enjoy the work of your hands?

For your first challenge, whenever you're ready–take a world map. Lay it before you, close your eyes, and point to an unfamiliar country anywhere. Open your eyes, and do your research. Attend to your affairs, pack a bag and leave. Go old school and get off the grid. No texting. No calls. No social media. Take a risk and tell no soul where you go. Spend a week and rest in the unknown. By the time you reach the seventh day, this challenge is completed, and you may open the next letter.

Sincerely thirsty for adventure!

Your Aunt Mercy

Lika chuckled through her tears upon reading the closing of Aunt Mercy's handwritten letter. She cried some more, tracing the ink on the letter and imagined her sitting, smiling as she wrote the letter for her.

In the haze of her own grief and loneliness, Lika opened her laptop and googled a world map. The drunk version of her think that pointing her index finger to the screen randomly would help determine where to go. By the time she opened her eyes, she found the tips of her finger pointing awfully close to the North Pole.

Lika laughed pitifully to herself for a minute.

When her own pathetic amusement wore off, she opted to search for a random country generator and clicked at the green button on her screen. A simple red and white flag popped on her screen, and the country name flashed before her eyes like a death sentence.

Indonesia.

Awesome. Lika knew nothing of the place, except maybe the fact that Indonesia is in Bali. She never even set foot there during her international travels throughout the years with Henry Kingsley.

She downed her tequila again, feeling the liquid burned her throat–a welcomed distraction from the thoughts of Henry. Deciding since she had basically ruined everything in her life, and there was nothing else holding her back in London, she decided to throw caution in the wind. For once, Lika decided something big for herself.

Indonesia it is then, Aunt Mercy.

***