Just a smile
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Note: Bulma denies this part alone, what about Vegeta will be told in the next chapter.
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Part 11
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Gone. He was gone.
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Bulma's gaze did not want to break away from the trampled flowers.
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Sweet. They smelled so sweet.
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These flowers only grew in one place around the city.
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By the cliffs where Vegeta used to train.
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Never again. She would never see him again, that voice had said.
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Whose voice?
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Bulma tilted her head back and looked into Safrano's face.
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"You only love me, sweetheart, is that clear? It would be best not to wait until the merger in three weeks. I'll marry you tomorrow. I just have to pull a few strings so that we can get approval, but it won't be a problem, after all we're old enough, right? "<br />
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Marry? Why should she marry?
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Why?
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She looked at the white snippets. One of them still contained a few complete characters. It read "are my light".
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Whose light?
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Vegeta's flowers. Vegeta's letter. Vegeta's light.
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Vegeta?
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Slowly, very slowly, memories rose up in her. The Saiyan who only thought of his struggles. She saw a black jumpsuit lying on the floor, saw herself stuffing it into the washing machine. Wasn't there a sound? Yes, the door had slid open. Vegeta came out of the bathroom, just rubbing her face dry with the towel. He wasn't wearing a scrap of cloth.
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"Why do you get so red, my darling?" Asked the warm voice that had wrapped her mind in a thick, fluffy blanket. Yes, she no longer felt any pain, but now that it began to stir, the ceiling turned out to be more and more of a network of sticky threads that tried to stifle every movement, every flicker.<br />
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Vegeta. Again she reached for the memory. Vegeta's sparkling eyes when they argued. Vegeta, who stood there flabbergasted when she took him by surprise the first time and kissed him. She felt the fire begin to flow through her veins again.
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How could she have given up all those beautiful memories just to spare herself a little pain? Was she so cowardly? So weak?
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Her mind tentatively stretched its wings. The threads had become yielding.
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"Bulma, what is it? Don't you want to kiss me, don't you want to thank me for getting this barbarian off your back forever? He's going to wander around somewhere in nowhere ... and we, the two of us, are undisturbed, my dove."
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He turned her around. She had closed her eyes to better immerse herself in her memories. So he didn't see that her gaze was almost as it was before, clear and firm.
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With a smile that was sure of victory, he bowed his head to her.His lips approached hers, touched her, pressed tighter against her cool mouth.
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Vegeta's kisses. Hot, violent and yet clumsy. Passion without experience, sweet hesitation and a longing that made your heart pound. He had come back. He had held her, touched her .. Carefully. Awkward. Desperate. He had kissed her. But the sticky blanket had made his kisses taste stale. She had enough of this blanket, enough of having her pain gagged, but also her joy and happiness. Her wings stretched wider, the threads stretched, stretched ... and tore ...
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Gossip!
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Incredulously, horrified, Safrano backed away, his hand pressed to the red mark on his cheek. "My Bulma ... what's wrong?"
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“Yuck!” Bulma jumped up and ran into the bathroom.
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"Are you sick?", Safrano waved after her. "Should I call a doctor?"<br />
She had the sliding door closed behind her and he hesitated to just pull it open. He could hear her running the water and washing her face.
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Had he gone a little too far to confront her with the thought of a hasty wedding right after Vegeta's departure? No, it had to be done quickly. Control over her had weakened despite her best efforts since Vegeta's interference. It was high time he took her completely into his care, so that he could have her pumping full of psychotropic drugs in his country estate in the mountains without anyone noticing. It was a shame for her brilliant mind, but her father's fortune and especially his company counted more.
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"Are you still sick, Bluma?" He called in, miming the worried fiancé.
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"What about Bulma?", Her mother came running out of the kitchen. “You already here Safrano?” Ms. Briefs didn't expect anything good.Should he have found the flowers and Vegeta's letter?
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She wanted to see, but she was more concerned about Bulma. "What about Bulma?" She repeated her question.
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"She's sick," said Safrano and shrugged.
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"From what? What did she eat?"
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"Nothing, as far as I know," he glanced at Ms. Brief's worried face and added hypocritically. "You might not get the smell of those weird flowers. She threw them on the floor and trampled on them ..."
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“No!” Mrs. Briefs turned even paler. "That ... did she do?" Hope sank and she swallowed hard. "If there is ..."
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"Who brought her these flowers? But not this barbarian who just left, right? I would trust him for such ruthlessness, after all, Bulma practically ignored him and he might be angry about it ..."
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At that moment the bathroom door was thrown open."Mom, back!"
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Ms. Briefs automatically leapt backwards from the bathroom. Not a moment too early, because a bucket full of ice-cold water flew in and landed on Safrano's head.
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He stood there frozen for a moment before tearing the bucket off his head and coughing. "What ... what ... should ... that ... Bulma?"
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Frau Briefs looked at the watered Safrano and could hardly help laughing. His carefully laid waves were reminiscent of lifeless algae and his suit was soaking wet.
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"I think that was clear enough, you fucking liar, right?"
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Safrano wiped the dripping strands from his face. She couldn't possibly mean him, could she? When he saw more clearly again, he took a step back, startled.
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Sparks flew from Bulma's eyes and her fingers twisted as if they wanted to wrap around his neck and squeeze tight.<br />
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"Get out of here, you disgusting ...", she searched in vain for a word that seemed bad enough to her. "Now I'm going to the workshop and looking for the shotgun that Dad used to drive the voracious rabitosaurs from Mommy's flowerbed when he was younger. As far as I know, the shotgun still works and I'll enjoy you a load of shot to burn your extended back so that you can neither lie nor sit for three weeks ... if you are smart, you will run away and hide away with the Hottentots for the next hundred years, because I will personally make sure that the company of yours Father goes so thoroughly down the drain that soon you won't even own this tasteless scrap that you call pants. "
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With these words she trudged past him.
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"Wait, Bulma," her mother laughed happily and gave Safrano a bitter look. "I'll help you search, I can aim better than you,"<br />
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Safrano's world collapsed. A moment ago he thought he was almost the owner of the Kapsule Corps and now ... and now ... Stunned, he staggered in the direction of the front door. He had to come up with a new plan, find a new unscrupulous psychiatrist, ideally a hypnotist who turned Bulma back into the puppet ... His step paused in front of her room. It was all Vegeta's fault, just his. This impossible barbarian had ruined everything, ruined his beautiful plan ... The flowers were still on the ground as he had left them. Safranos bend down and his hand grasped the root ball. He would throw this weed on the nearest pyre and watch with relish how it burned ... just as this Vegeta had probably already burned up with his spaceship in the sun, to which the wrong course had led him.
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"What are you still doing here ...?" Bulma stood in the doorway, the shotgun at the ready. Her voice was low, dangerously low.“I warned you.” She curled her finger and the first load of shot dug into the ground next to his shoes. "Let go of the flowers, or I'll aim a little higher and hit certain parts that even an unmanly creep like you wouldn't want to do without ..." The pipe jerked up. Safrano's stupor loosened in one fell swoop. He dropped the flowers and backed away to the window. "You won't do that, Bulma, or do you want to go to jail?"
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"You forget that mom and dad will swear stone and leg that you penetrated and raped me because I refused to marry you at the last second. You have no idea how well I act, and especially not how loudly I can scream ... "She took a deep breath.
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"Stop, wait!", Safrano opened the window. "I'm going."
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"Very good. And if I have to see your depraved face again, I'll scratch your eyes out!"<br />
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Safrano didn't hear that anymore. He had already climbed out the window. It was only about a meter and a half to the ground, but he hit so miserably that he sprained his ankle. Bulma mercilessly fired a load of shot over his head, so that he hobbled quickly onto the street, let his car out of the capsule and sped away without looking back.
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From the city and from Bulma's life.
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Bulma lowered the shotgun with relief.
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"That was just great, Bulma, my angel," she heard her mother's happy voice behind her. With a little laugh, Bulma turned to her. "It was good too, I can't tell you how much!"
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"Then give me the shotgun and take care of the flowers."
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Bulma looked down at