Echoes of a Forsaken Heart novel Chapter 156

Hamilton's body tensed suddenly as if struck by a bolt of ice.

The heat that had flushed his temples moments ago receded like the ebbing tide, leaving a chilling void in its wake. Slowly, he released Natalia, his eyes betraying a fleeting pain that darted across his gaze like a shadow.

The question Natalia had posed was akin to a dagger driven deep into his heart—a raw wound that had never fully healed. Since the incident, she had never mentioned it, not until now. Hamilton had fooled himself into believing it was all in the past, that if no one spoke of it, it might as well have never happened.

But the slightest tear in the fabric of their pretense and the wound gaped wide—a scar stretching between them, indelible and ever-fresh, its pain undiminished.

And the pain wasn't Natalia's alone; it cut Hamilton just as deeply.

Swallowing hard, he took a step back and then another. Natalia's bringing it up now couldn't have been clearer in intent—she really didn't want his touch. It wasn't a tantrum.

"Would you rather rip open old wounds than let me touch you? Is that it?" he asked, his voice edged with a bitterness he couldn't hide.

Natalia was at a loss for words. She could hear the anger in Hamilton's voice and could tell he was more than just a little upset. Perhaps her words had struck a nerve, but this scar was one she had never wanted to reopen.

She had genuinely tried to let go of the pain he had caused, to start anew. But he just wouldn't let it be, forcing her to bear it all once again.

Taking a deep breath, Natalia faced him with a serenity that belied the turmoil within. "Hamilton, what have you given me in the three years we've been together? Aside from the money, nothing but endless hurt."

Hamilton said nothing, his face growing more rigid with every word she spoke.

Natalia managed a laugh though her lashes veiled her eyes. "Maybe you can't let go now, but one day you'll be able to. Stop clinging to this, it's really painful."

His eyes filled with restrained emotion; Hamilton wanted to tell her that it wasn't merely a matter of letting go. But the words died on his lips.

What was it then? Love? He scoffed at the thought. He had learned early on that love and marriage—those were the most unreliable things in the world. How could he possibly fall for anyone?

"So, no matter what I do, there's no chance for us, right?" he asked, his voice a low growl.

Natalia didn't look at him, but her answer was firm. "Right."

They fell silent, the room echoing only with their breaths. Natalia, clad only in a bathrobe, suddenly felt a chill. She wrapped the robe tighter around herself and suggested, "You should head back; we've got an early meeting tomorrow."

Hamilton's frown deepened. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke. "I'll stay tonight. Don't worry, I won't do anything. I just don't like the idea of you being alone out here."

Natalia chuckled, a note of finality in her voice. "That's not necessary. Given our situation, your staying would be inappropriate. I'll lock the door."

Hamilton, still frowning, opened his mouth to protest, but the resolve on her face stopped him. He forced a smile. "Alright then, Ms. Jenkins, get some rest."

"Same to you, Mr. Fowler."

Their parting was one of rare tranquility. Hamilton turned and strode out, each step heavy with unspoken regret. He half-expected Natalia to call out to him, to stop him, but she didn't. She just stood there, watching him leave.

The door opened and closed behind him, severing not just their gaze but seemingly their tangled emotions as well.

Natalia composed herself and sat at the table, staring at a slice of cake before her. Tears fell despite her best efforts. They might have been for the relationship or perhaps for the wasted years of her life.

Hamilton stepped out of the room but didn't leave. He leaned against the wall near the door, lighting a cigarette. He wasn't sure if it was just reluctance that he felt towards Natalia, but he was certain he resented having to give up.

It made no sense that a relationship that began with two people would leave only him stranded in the end. He had felt Natalia's care for him once; she had listened to his every word and fulfilled his every desire. Now, she could exit their relationship with such ease—a testament to the harshness a woman could muster when she set her mind to it.

He was indeed resentful, but what good did it do? She had made it clear that staying with him only brought her pain.

A bitter laugh escaped him as he drew on his cigarette. To persist would only make him seem pathetic.

Time would pass, and he would move on, he thought. But despite this, Hamilton lingered at Natalia's door until dawn, smoking one cigarette after another, drawing curious glances from passersby. A server eventually brought him an ashtray.

He stayed until the sky hinted at morning, just to make sure no one else would come for her. Then, he straightened out his clothes and went down to his car, where he dozed off for a while.

His phone woke him up—it was Eveleen.