He continued, his tone sharp and accusing. “And how many times do I have to tell you that there’s nothing between me and her? Why would you say something so humiliating to her? Can you stop imagining things and assuming the worst about everyone?”
I stared at him, stunned, feeling as if I had never known this man despite what we had been through.
There was a time when a tiny cut on my hand would bring tears to his eyes. Yet now, with my entire body wrapped in bandages like a mummy, he didn’t seem to notice. He only cared about Julianne catching a cold.
I said softly, my voice trembling, “Irvin, I’m hurt—badly. I can’t even move my hands right now.”
I thought that by saying all of that, Irvin would at least spare me a glance or show a trace of guilt for choosing to let me die and causing my injuries. But instead, he let out a cold, mocking laugh.
He said, “Don’t act like you’re actually hurt. Even if you were, isn’t it your own fault?”
I stared at him, speechless, and then a bitter smile spread across my face. Seven years of love, and this was where we ended up.
Maybe my smile looked too self-deprecating because his expression softened for a moment. But almost immediately, irritation and disdain returned to his face. “Emilia Quill, you’re getting better at putting on a show.”
He gestured at my bandages, sneering. “Look at you—wrapped up like it’s the real deal.”
Then, he reached out and tugged on one of the bandages. The slightest touch was already unbearable for me, but when he pulled, the pain was so sharp I couldn’t even breathe.
Before I could recover, he pressed hard on my arm. He taunted, “What’s this? Blood? Looks fresh. Did you pay extra for the good stuff? Emilia, you really love wasting medical resources.”
The bones in my arm that had only just been set felt like they were shattering all over again. The pain was so intense it felt like my heart stopped.
In that instant, cold sweat drenched my body, leaving me as though I had just been fished out of water. My face turned ghostly pale, completely drained of color. I tried to open my mouth to beg him to stop, but I was in too much agony to even speak.
Irvin finally noticed my pale face and frowned as if realizing something was wrong. “Emilia—” he started, but before he could say more, his phone rang.
The distinct ringtone made him pause, and without sparing me another glance, he picked up the call.
“Don’t worry. I’m on my way!” he said urgently, then rushed out of the room. He didn’t even look back.
In his haste, he accidentally yanked out one of the tubes connected to my body. I instantly struggled to breathe, panic seizing me as I gasped for air. I tried desperately to call out to him, to beg him to get a doctor, but no sound would come out.
It felt like an invisible hand was choking me, cutting off my oxygen as darkness crept in. As my vision blurred and my consciousness faded, a bitter thought consumed my mind.
I didn’t die at the hands of the kidnappers, nor did I die when I hit the rocks at the bottom of that cliff. But now, I was going to die because of the man I loved most. The man I gave everything to.
For a moment, the pain in my chest was sharper than anything else. It hurt so much that I no longer wanted to love him—or anyone.
…
Whether heaven pitied me or simply enjoyed torturing me, I survived again. The doctors said I owed my life to the head nurse, who decided to check on me one last time before ending her shift. If she hadn’t found me when she did, I wouldn’t have made it.
They called me the luckiest patient they had ever seen. I stared at the doctor, unsure how to respond, and simply smiled.
But this time, when I woke up, I felt hollow, like something was missing. It was as if I had forgotten something important, though no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out what—the only thing I couldn’t recall was how the tube got pulled out.
The doctor reassured me that it was normal to forget small details after such severe trauma. He told me to focus on healing and not worry about anything else.
I agreed. He was right—recovery was the most important thing. Due to the added injuries, my condition worsened, and I ended up bedridden for over two months before I could move again.
When I finally managed to move, my body was still stiff and weak. I was unbearably thirsty but struggled to reach the water cup on the table. By the time I managed to grab it, drenched in sweat, my hand betrayed me, and the cup fell to the floor, spilling everywhere.
Staring at the puddle of water only made me thirstier. I tried to figure out how to pour another cup when a tall man suddenly burst into the room.
