Simon Bae Case: A Tense Ride Home
🚨SIMON BAE CASE: “I WISH THE CHAUFFER TO DRIVE ME BACK TO MY HOME WITH MY PURPOSE OF MEETING HER”👇 *full story is continued via commenting via Facebook*
You realize that the afternoon ventilation had come up with him, sliding the back window down after the overwhelming decision to leave the club was made. I paused, staring hard at him, the scent of fresh cigarette smoke swirling off his tailored suit as he settled further into the leather seat.
“Simon,” I began, my grip tightening on the door handle, “how long have you been seeing her?”
His silence was deafening, the rhythmic rumble of the engine only amplifying the tension. His jaw tightened as he finally turned to me, his voice eerily calm. “It’s not what you think.”
My heart raced, the air between us thick with unspoken regrets. The dashboard clock gleamed in the dim light, and I couldn’t help but notice the slight tremor in his hand as he ran it nervously through his hair.
Then, without warning, his phone buzzed on the console — a message lighting up the screen.
“Answer it,” I whispered, my voice trembling. He hesitated, his eyes darting to the phone before picking it up. The screen displayed a name I recognized instantly.
“SIMON BAE CASE IS COMPLICATED”, I SAID, head down, looking away from the glare of the screen. The chauffeur glanced back through the rearview mirror, his eyes filled with a silent understanding.
As the car pulled into the driveway, my breath hitched, the gate creaking ominously as it opened on its own.
Then the phone buzzed again — and her name flashed once more.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*The familiar scent of lilies hung heavy in the air as I stepped out of the car, the humid night air clinging to my skin. Simon remained silent, his gaze fixed on the house as if bracing himself. The phone, still buzzing insistently in his hand, felt like a phantom limb, a constant reminder of the connection he was trying to conceal.
Inside the sprawling mansion, shadows danced in the moonlight spilling through the tall windows. The grand foyer was silent, save for the gentle ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner. As we made our way through the house, the silence pressed down on us, each footstep echoing unnaturally loud.
We stopped before a closed door, the ornate carvings hinting at the room beyond. Simon took a deep breath, his hand hovering over the polished brass doorknob. He paused, finally turning to me, his face etched with a mixture of resignation and defiance.
“This isn’t what you think,” he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. “She… she needed me.”
He turned the knob, the click echoing in the stillness. The door swung inward, revealing a dimly lit room. And there she was, sitting by the window, bathed in the soft glow of the moon. Her silhouette was instantly recognizable: her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She was reading, but as soon as she saw him, a smile graced her face. The smile of a woman in love.
But as Simon moved closer, I could see something was wrong. A dark spot bloomed on the carpet beneath her feet. A glint of something metallic caught my eye, and I realized the book lay open on her lap, concealing a knife.
Simon’s eyes widened in shock as he took in the scene. He lunged forward, but it was too late. She raised her hand, and the blood, crimson under the moonlight, splattered across her face. Simon stumbled back, a guttural cry escaping his lips.
He turned to me, his face a mask of horror and pain. “I… I should have known. I should have been here sooner.” His words became choked with tears. He collapsed to his knees beside her, and I knew in that moment it wasn’t about a love affair but a tragic end for everyone.
The police sirens blared, shattering the silence. As they swarmed into the house, I looked at Simon. His face, finally bare, as the phone began buzzing with her name, one last time. The chauffeur, his face pale, nodded and then looked away. It was over. The complicated Simon Bae case, finally, was closed.