Twisted Ties of Love novel Chapter 552

Izabella methodically twisted the balloon in her hands, her face a blank canvas of concentration. The buzzing of Brett's voice filled the room, which kept grating on her nerves, a distracting murmur that made it impossible for her to find peace.

With a sudden "Pop!" the balloon in her grasp exploded from the pressure.

"Can't you just zip it, Brett? Stop dredging up the past, will ya?" she snapped, her voice laced with irritation.

Brett licked his chapped lips, and said with a hoarse voice barely above a whisper, "But all I have left are memories."

"You know who always dwells on the past?" Izabella scoffed, before answering her own rhetorical question, "People who are about to kick the bucket."

"What if I told you I am dying, Izabella?"

"Then hurry up and do it. Stop talking about it and just do it," she retorted, with an icy and unforgiving gaze, as if she were looking at an enemy.

Brett paused, and his eyes turned unfocused and lost as he stared at the remnants of the burst balloon. He remembered how Izabella used to fuss over him, how she kept perfecting her cooking only to suit his tastes, even though he wouldn't so much as take a bite. She'd cook for him every day for 1,364 days straight, and wait quietly for him to glance her way. She was satisfied with just that.

She was always swamped with work, yet she would knit him scarves, even in cold winters when her hands would tremble so much that signing her name would be a stiff ordeal.

He had a temper, but she always put up with him, even if it meant being his punching bag.

The pain of her stomach cancer was so excruciating that even made her vomit blood. Yet, in order to leave him quietly, she never breathed a word about it.

The more Brett thought about how good Izabella had been to him, the more uncontrollably he thought of how poorly he'd treated her. Maybe Izabella was right; perhaps only those who’re close to death would cling to the past because once you're gone, there's no remembering.

On their wedding day, Izabella had single-handedly managed everything. It was a simple ceremony, which simply invited the media . She had blown up 520 balloons by herself, filled every corner of the room with balloons and tied them to the banisters.

She prepared 1,314 red envelopes and the same number of wedding candies—all on her own; her fingers ached from the repetitive task. It wasn't that they couldn't afford help; she just thought it would be more meaningful to do it herself.

After popping the balloon, Bella dropped it, seemingly no longer interested in the task.

What's the point of all these meaningful gestures if you're not willing to do them? Without the will, even the grandest gestures are meaningless.

When the hard times are over, who wants to remember the difficult path they’ve walked?

She didn't need to inflate many balloons; a token effort would suffice. Brett cut out a cat-shaped paper silhouette, which was reminiscent of their cat Niki, and stuck it on the window. The red color was striking, but staring at it too long made her eyes ache.

—Brett, when we have kids, if it's a girl, we'll name her Maggie, and if it's a boy, we'll call him Bennett. We'll also get a cat named Niki.

Without Izabella's involvement, Brett stayed up all night and finally managed to finish the preparations by the next morning.

Christmas was still days away, so there was no rush. His late-night endeavor seemed like a preparation for something else.

Bella hadn't received a reply to the text she sent to Casey, and she felt an inexplicable restlessness. Her right eyelid twitched uncontrollably as she sat up in bed, so she gently patted it, hoping to calm the persistent twitch.

When Brett entered the room and saw Bella holding her forehead, he assumed she had a headache. "What's wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

After a few more spasms, her eyelid finally relaxed.

"Brett," Izabella called out to him.

"What is it?" he responded. Bella rarely called him by his name unless it was serious.

Bella laughed bitterly, recalling the words he'd spoken as he held her lifeless body. She hadn't told anyone about her brief time as a spirit after her death, but now, she suddenly longed to see Casey.

"You said that if I were alive, you'd do anything for me, even if it meant letting me go willingly. But you haven't kept your word," she said, feeling her memory sharp as ever.