This could be a bad idea. What if Howard's wife shot him in the head for daring to even come to her house after what he did to her husband? But Robert was only following the words of her late husband. It could also be his head playing games with him.

His unsteady hand knocked on the white door of Howard's townhouse twice. It had been a while since he visited this place. It was in Belgravia avenue in London where the posh lived. Except for working for Robert, Howard had decent pay from working in the military.

The door creaked open and when Mrs Lithstone saw him, her eyes burnt with rage and she tried to shut the door. He fixed his leg on the threshold stopping the door from closing.

"Mrs Lithstone, I know you must be angry that you can't even bear to see me."

"You think so?" She asked, her tone high and annoyed.

"Please just give me a chance to speak with you. I know no words I say would bring back your husband. But I want you to remember he was also my friend. So I understand how you feel."

Silence came next.

For the next minute, they both stood there saying nothing, Robert's pocket watch ticking loudly.

"Please," he begged, his fingers on the door.

Sighing, she pushed the door open and did a side step. "Come in. But whatever you have to say, you have only ten minutes."

The walls of the house were painted in peach, the floor made of hardwood. Robert's boots thud against the floor as he followed Mrs Lithstone into her living room. Portraits of Howard in his army uniform were hung all over the room, a dozen rifles attached to a wooden frame on the wall.

Robert hoped Mrs Lithstone wouldn't think of using it. If she did, well it was safe to say he was dead meat. He wasn't comfortable either coming here. Regardless, it was something he had to do. The last time he tried to speak to her was when he broke the news of her dead husband. And all she did was yell at him and spit on his face.

Howard was dead, but he could try to make up for what he did in any way he could. Even though he knew it would never be enough. But he had to do something other than lie idle and smoke.

Mrs Lithstone sat on a dark Sheraton chair and gestured for Robert to seat on the armchair that was siding the fireplace. Robert looked down carefully at it to make sure it wasn't full of spikes. When he comprehended it was safe enough, he slowly sat on the seat.

Laying between them was a large brown rug with a coffee chair above it. Mrs Lithstone's dark hair glowed under the soft morning light but her tired eyes told another tale. She still wasn't having enough sleep. The funeral was three days ago. Robert shouldn't expect her to get over her beloved husband so soon.

"Eight minutes left," she said brusquely.

Robert leaned forward, locking his hands. "I don't know where to start apologising from, Mrs Lithstone. I understand how much Howard meant to you and I want you to know I've been unable to sleep well since he left."

"As you should."

She was truly making this difficult for him. "And I know nothing I do or say would bring your husband back."

"I'm glad we're on the same page."

It appeared Robert had to go straight to the point. Mrs Lithstone wasn't willing to have small talk. Which he agreed was understandable.

"Howard told me about the countryside home you wanted to buy, " Robert said, digging his hand inside the frock coat Ella bought him and bringing out a white piece of paper. "Unfortunately he was unable to buy that house."

"Because you led him to his death," Mrs Lithstone spat furiously.

Robert sighed. Nothing would ever make up for what he did. And each time Mrs Lithstone reminded him of that, he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"Which is why I bought the hectares of land which Howard was buried, including the hills and the countryside view his grave was overlooking." He handed her the sheet of paper and she took it, her dark eyes screaming with shock. "The land is valued at about one hundred thousand pounds and I created a bank account in your name filled with two hundred thousand pounds. I believe it would be enough to build your dream house in the countryside. And Howard can watch everything from the hills."

Her tear drops fell onto the paper, her hands shaky as she held it. "Do you think this would be enough to make up for what you did to Howard?" She folded the document and tossed it at him.

"I don't think it would ever be enough to make up for your husband's death. Nothing is ever worth my friendship with Howard."

"Take your stupid piece of document and money. I don't need it."

"I'm sorry, Mrs Lithstone, it has already been done in your name."

She marched over to him and began hitting him with her hands, her tears rolling down her face like a stream of sorrow. You could see it in her eyes; the pain of a widow. It was so raw and true and Robert wished he didn't put this poor woman in this position.

"You bastard! I wanted a family with him! You took-you took..." She trailed off, sobbing into his shoulders. They both knelt on the floor, Mrs Lithstone's cries conquering her urge to beat the shit out of Robert. All she could do was cry in his arms. "H-Howard is gone. He's-he's gone."

"It would be okay, Mrs Lithstone," Robert said massaging her shoulders. Her tears were wetting his shirt and he didn't mind. Let her cry her heart out. She needed to let it out. If not her pain would consume her. Just like Robert's was already consuming him.

Ella was still nowhere to be found.

Were things always going to be like this?

******

Was this what Howard's office looked like?

It had dawned on him that he never came here. Howard always met up with him in his office. That was quite surprising.

Though Howard wasn't around anymore the office was still tidier than Robert's own. The mahogany desk had files arranged perfectly on one side. To the left was a shelf that contained records of their accounts and money transferred to their clients.

Robert ran his fingers over the desk, dust covering their tips. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sighted a black trunk. It was huge, its level stopping at Robert's waist. What could be inside there? He flipped the hook up and raised the heavy lid. His eyes widened when he saw them-failed attempts at making his moon lamp. There were all clustered together like a metallic jumble.

Above them laid a note. Robert picked and opened it. It had Howard's writing. It read;

My Lord, if you're the one reading this, well congrats, you've finally entered my office after all these years.

If you're someone else reading this letter, drop it or I'll hunt you down and remove all your teeth.

Robert laughed. Howard would always remain Howard. He continued reading;

My Lord, as you can see, below is a gathering of your failed attempts at making a moon lamp. And may I say how horrible they were.

Robert nodded his head in agreement. Those prototypes were useless as cow shite. Even cow shite was used as manure.

But I gathered all these for one purpose. I saw how you always beat yourself up because you were unable to make the perfect moon lamp. I knew the pressure you had on your shoulder because you were trying to make the moon lamp and make your father know you were good enough.

I was never a fan of that ideology. That was because I knew you were good enough. So I kept all these together so that one day you would look back at them and see how far you've come.

And if you've already made progress, then know there is no reason to ever think you were never good enough. Despite your interesting habits with women, you're still the most smartest and determined man I have ever met.

So whatever you feel like you're lost and think there's no way for you. Look back at this letter and remember the good things about yourself. You've been pursuing this moon lamp for a long time that you didn't pause to ask yourself, would my father still love me after this?

If you could be this determined and smart and successful and your father couldn't be proud of you, I don't think making the moon lamp would change anything. My advice for you is to stop seeking validation from your father and love yourself more. That way you would be able to live life to the fullest and spend time with people who truly value you and care for you.

And one last thing: you deserve to be loved. Your father is just blind not to see that.

Yours truly,

Howard Lithstone.

P.S: I'm still ashamed of you though. After all these years, this is the first time you've ever entered my office.

Robert laughed and walked over to Howard's desk to sit down. He could feel the dying flower beneath him begin to blossom again. He could see that light his mother told him about. It was just within reach.

Despite all the bad things he scorned himself for, Howard still saw good in him. Howard still believed he deserved to be loved.

The realisation struck him like an unmovable train. Tears flowed down his high cheekbones and he ran his hands through his hair. His friend slapped the truth he couldn't see in his face. Ella had told him this same thing. But because he grew up thinking his father didn't love him because he wasn't good enough, he didn't listen to her.

But now the truth was clear as crystal to him. All this while he had been good enough.

He was the richest man in London for Godsakes!

He was the smartest man in London.

He was the first man to ever reduce gas lamp prices and decrease the amount of gas needed to use them, thereby saving the economy.

The moon lamp wasn't going to change anything.

Robert was going to stop trying to make his father love him. He was going to stop trying so hard to prove he was good enough. He would listen to his friend's advice and live his life to the fullest with people who truly cared for him. But he couldn't do that with Ella as a captive. Ella was his everything and he couldn't imagine a life without her.

There was a loud ring and Robert glanced around the room. He spotted the telephone vibrating and rushed to it. Who the frigg was calling Howard?

He placed the telephone in his ear, "Hello, Stark Lamps speaking. How can we help you?"

"Your Lordship."

"Captain?"

"Yes, it's me. Bloody hell, I called your house line, your office line and couldn't reach you. I decided to call Howard's line thinking you may be reminiscing of old times in his office."

An office he never visited until today. Splendid guess, Captain.

"You sound in a haste. What happened?" Robert asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"I have good news. We may know where Ella is."

He turned to where Howard's seat was and saw what he assumed to be a hallucination of his late friend smiling at him.

"You've figured it out, My Lord. Now go save our Ella."

The ghost faded into the air.

******