Chapter 177
Zinnia had been living with Yannis for quite some time, watching over him as he took his medicine daily. Yannis really had no choice. If he hesitated, those big eyes would silently implore, “You’re a grown man. Are you really scared of a little medicine?” Her gaze was hard to ignore.
Another reason Yannis complied was Zinnia's earlier concerns about his future. He definitely wasn't going to tell Raymond about that, though. He nodded without betraying his emotions.
Yannis's health looked better, and Raymond's face lit up. “So, how about your insomnia? Is it still bothering you?” he asked.
“Much better now,” Yannis said with a small smile—meaning it persisted, but improved significantly. He would be lying if he claimed insomnia was gone entirely. But since that night with Zinnia, whenever those dark, blood-drenched visions threatened to overwhelm him, her voice always pulled him back to reality.
This cycle repeated. He'd sink into nightmares, then be rescued again and again, all night until morning. During those brief respites, he could manage a little sleep. Yannis hadn't realized how much Zinnia meant to him. She reached him in ways no one else could, even pulling him from that darkness. Even Roderick, who'd tried hypnosis for years to erase those memories, had never succeeded.
Whenever he remembered her soft voice saying, “I won’t leave you,” and that warm, comforting hug, Yannis’s heart melted. He thought, ‘Maybe I can’t ever forget those memories. But when I’m almost drowning in that inescapable past, Zinnia will reach out and pull me back.’
“How did Zinnia treat you?” Raymond asked, genuinely curious. He knew how severe his insomnia had been. Even if not fully resolved, any progress was a significant step. Raymond wanted to learn her methods.
“She made me herbal pouches and some pills, and even wrote me a new prescription,” Yannis said, but Raymond couldn’t help thinking Yannis looked a bit too proud—like he was showing off.
“What kind of herbal pouch is it?” Raymond asked seriously, concealing his skepticism.
Having heard Yannis boast, Yvette interjected, “Dad, he wouldn’t even use an aromatherapy candle; what kind of herbal pouch could help him sleep? He’s definitely lying.”
Yannis produced a herbal pouch from his suit pocket. Raymond reached for it, but Yannis held it back. “Just look, don’t touch,” he said.
Raymond sighed. “Come closer, will you? My eyes aren’t as sharp as yours.” Yannis noted the silver streaks in Raymond’s hair, then moved the pouch closer.
Raymond put on his glasses—he disliked others touching his belongings—and examined it carefully. The herbal pouch contained twenty-one different herbs, all for treating insomnia.
Raymond asked cautiously, “You mean you can really fall asleep just with this herbal pouch? After all these years, it’s hard to believe something so simple could work.”
Yannis shook his head. “The herbal pouch alone isn’t enough. I have to take the pills too. Breathing in the scent makes me sleepy.” He added, “But as soon as I close my eyes, all those memories come back and I can’t sleep. Only when I take a pill and remind myself of Zinnia’s words can I finally calm down.”
“Did you bring the pills?” Raymond asked.
Yannis had. Sleeping over, he knew he couldn't manage without them. And if Zinnia saw him tired, she’d worry. He produced a bottle, revealing only a few pills remained.
Raymond poured out a pill, sniffed it, and looked intrigued. He asked, “What did Zinnia tell you?”
“She told me not to overthink,” Yannis replied.
“You’re lucky. Meeting Zinnia is the best thing that ever happened to you,” Raymond said, patting Yannis’s shoulder. He couldn’t help thinking, ‘She got a teacher from the Moore family and really knows how to win hearts. With Zinnia around, Yannis will never fall apart again.’
“I agree,” Yannis said, his eyes curving into a happy sparkle.
Yannis went upstairs. The younger generation’s rooms were on the third floor; Raymond, Yvette, and her husband were on the second. Zinnia's room was next to Maisie’s, and Yannis’s was opposite.
“Zinnia,” Yannis softly called, approaching her room and knocking.
“Coming! Just a second,” Zinnia’s hurried voice replied, followed by quick footsteps.
“No rush, Zinnia,” Yannis said kindly, listening to her bustle.
A moment later, the door opened. Zinnia appeared, holding her head while pulling open the door, tilting her head as she looked up at him.
“Yannis? What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised.
“Can’t get your hair out?” Yannis said, trying to suppress a laugh.
Zinnia’s hair was a mess, her hairpin beads tangled. Her eyes expressed annoyance. She'd struggled removing her elaborate hair decorations.
“Yep,” Zinnia muttered, still frustrated. She’d worn too many hairpins and decorations tonight; some even had beaded tassels. She’d never worn her hair like this before. After dinner, she’d planned to shower and wash her hair. But removing everything proved impossible. Her scalp ached, her hands ached, and she felt angry. A beaded hairpin with tassels was tangled at the back of her neck, making it painful to stand straight. She wanted to ask Maisie for help, but Maisie was showering. Maisie wore a wig, easily removed; Zinnia's long natural hair, intricately styled, presented a nightmare.
“Let me help,” Yannis offered, noticing Zinnia’s winces. He handed her a plate of strawberries, then moved behind her. Finding the tangled beaded hairpin, he gently began freeing her hair. The decorative tassels were caught at the back of her neck—Zinnia had been struggling for ages to loosen them.
“Thank you, Yannis,” Zinnia sighed happily once the hairpin was removed, allowing her to straighten her head.
“Sit. I’ll finish fixing it,” Yannis said, looking at her tangled hair and pout. He gently poked her cheek, watching her anger subside. With a lazy smile, he teased, “You’re about to puff up like a little pufferfish. Poor Zinnia, getting so worked up.”