“Mr. Hayes, we’ve combed through the nearby waters, and I’m afraid Mrs. Hayes...”
The search and rescue team leader’s words were cut off mid-sentence by Ian’s sharp command. “Keep searching. She has to be alive!”
Despite his own creeping dread that Clara’s chances were slim, Ian clung to the belief that she wouldn’t leave him behind.
Edwin’s expression was somber as he turned to Ian. “Heidi’s been badly burned. Her face is disfigured, and her vocal cords are damaged. Paolo pulled her from the fire. Do you want us to bring her back?”
At the mention of that name, Ian clenched his jaw hard. “Send the orders. No matter what, she must survive. To die like this would be too easy for her.”
Edwin nodded, his voice saturated with regret. "Ian, we need to steel ourselves for what's to come," he said, gripping Ian's shoulder with a firm, reassuring hand. His words rang with a somber note, resounding in the silence that followed.
With the storm raging as it was, Clara’s odds of survival were low, especially with her deep-sea phobia. If it had been a river, with its less fierce currents and shallower depths, there might be hope.
But this was the deep sea.
Ian had been with the search team for five days and nights, not closing his eyes once. Yet there was no sign of her.
Taking in Ian’s increasingly gaunt face, Edwin murmured, “If Clara were still in these waters, we would have found her by now. You should go rest. I’ll take the team and look elsewhere. All we can hope for now is that Clara swims to shore on her own.”
He knew the likelihood was impossible, but in such situations, everyone held on to a glimmer of hope.
Ian stood on the deck of the search vessel. His hands trembled as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket. It took several attempts to light it, and in the end, it was Dawson who helped him.
He took a long, desperate drag. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared into the distance. His voice was a deep rasp. “I believe she wouldn’t leave me behind.”
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