The Wedding That Never Was Chapter 8

Wind and rain raged outside the window.

I explained in a panic, “I don’t know what’s going on...”

My stomach still held residual pain, and my hands wouldn't stop shaking.

Adrian, with a dark face, dialed Jessica directly.

On the other end of the line, Jessica, who had just found out what happened, apologized immediately.

“I’m sorry, Colonel Hayes. Julian Croft bribed Ilara’s assistant to stuff the card into her bag.”

“It’s my poor management. I’m firing that assistant right now. You’ve been with Ilara for so many years, don’t you know what kind of person she is...”

Adrian hung up the phone and saw me pinching my arm, saying nothing.

My arm was bloody from my own scratching. My face was pale, but my eyes were bloodshot.

Clearly, I was having an episode again.

Adrian frowned, stepped forward, and forcibly held down my arm.

He tore open a medicine packet from the table and fed it to me, then cleaned my wounds.

The stinging pain brought me back to reality. I realized I had relapsed.

I looked at Adrian. Helplessness and fear surged in my heart. Before I knew it, tears covered my face.

Trembling, I grabbed Adrian’s shirt and couldn't help but ask, “Adrian, let’s get married, okay?”

Adrian’s movements froze.

He glanced at me, seeming to endure something, then looked down again. “We’ll talk about this when you’re better.”

But to me, that sentence was enough to crush me.

Huge sorrow swept through my body in an instant. I tried my best to suppress my sobs. “I know, because I’m sick, I always have to trouble you, need you to take care of me...”

“But Adrian, I really can’t live without you...”

I wiped the tears from my face, but they flowed endlessly, soaking Adrian’s clothes.

Adrian threw away the cotton swab and stood up, looking at me with irritation.

“I never thought that, but can you stop being like this?!”

“Look at yourself right now. Do you look like a normal person at all?”

I looked bleakly at the marks on my body:

My arms were stacked with scars from past episodes. My fingernails were filthy with blood. My fingertips still held strands of hair I had torn out.

Every time I had an episode, I would self-harm almost insanely. No wonder this appearance was disgusting.

My expression gradually turned despairing. My chest hurt terribly.

Finally, my heart went cold, inch by inch.

After a long time, I whispered, “You go... I’m tired. I want to sleep.”

This was our home.

But Adrian only stayed for a moment each time, as if treating this place like a hotel.

Adrian looked at me silently, thinking of something unknown.

Finally, he cleaned everything up, then picked up his coat and left.

He left.

I watched his back again.

Watching that back that never lingered, that left decisively every time, heavy despair swallowed me once more.

It made even breathing feel painful.

The next second, I grabbed the fruit knife from the table. The sharp blade pressed against my neck.

But I was suddenly startled awake by the sound of fireworks exploding.

My eyes fell on the calendar on the wall—

Today was Adrian’s birthday. At midnight, his birthday arrived.

I snapped awake.

How could I let my lover’s birthday become the anniversary of my death?

With this thought, I dropped the knife.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, clusters of fire flowers bloomed in the night sky.

But downstairs, a woman’s cheer suddenly came.

“Happy Birthday, Colonel Hayes!”

That joyous voice forced me to walk to the window.

Then I watched Adrian walk step by step toward Sarah Jenkins, who had lit the fireworks.

I watched as they hugged each other under my window.

I felt my already shattered heart burn into dead ash.

I stared blankly at this scene for a long, long time.

Only when the two left did I dial Adrian’s number.

Adrian’s voice was a bit unstable. “What now?”

I took a deep breath. I kept my voice calm. Gentle.

As if I had dug out my own heart with my own hands, I spoke softly.

“Adrian Hayes, let’s break up.”