After three weeks of eerie silence, Izabella's phone erupted with the cacophony of notifications as she reconnected online. Texts and calls flooded her phone, but she hesitated to confront them, her heart a sluggish drumbeat beneath her trembling lashes. She set the phone aside, exhaling deeply as she gazed out at the gloomy day.
Eventually, she steadied her jumbled emotions and read the messages. Over five hundred texts awaited her—some from work, some from her mother Wendy, but the majority were from Casey. He had messaged her every day, asking her whereabouts.
Her throat constricted, her breathing uneven. Thousands of words, all tinged with longing. Casey was waiting for her return, refusing to sign the divorce papers, holding on for her.
Casey, always so robust, had succumbed to acute gastroenteritis and had been hospitalized. Against medical advice, he'd discharged himself to search for her, even coughing up blood in his distress.
Halfway through the messages, Izabella's tears broke free, her chest tight with an unbearable weight. Clutching her phone to her heart, she wept. Those ten days since leaving Casey, she had managed to keep her composure, but now, the news of his illness shattered her resolve.
In Spring Bay, part of R City, Casey was confined to his bedroom, limbs restrained on the bed, an IV drip attached to his arm. He struggled against his bonds, his skin chafed, his feet aching, as he tried to rise, only to be subdued each time.
His punishment for struggling was the sedative that sapped his strength, leaving him with tears streaming down from hollow eyes.
"Mom, let me go. I need to find her." he choked out, his eyes redder and bloodshot with desperation.
"You can't even take care of yourself; how are you going to find her? And what then? She left on her own; if she returns, it will be on her terms," Bunny said, her heart aching at the sight of him.
"Casey, listen to me. You need to focus on getting well. Trust me, Izabella will come back. She's safe; Brett won't hurt her."
"Trust?" Casey roared with a mix of anger and despair. But in the next moment, his voice softened, pleading. "Mom, I have to find her. What if she's cold? What if Brett mistreats her? She's terrified of him; how will she survive? And she hates bitterness. Who will wipe her tears and offer her a sweet comfort?"
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