Chapter 7
Izabella’s eyes appeared lifeless, devoid of any flicker of hope, and this deeply unsettled Presley ‘Bella, don’t you have any aspirations?” he asked, concerned
1 do,” Izabella replied, her tone turning cold. She instinctively covered her eyes with her hand, only to realize that tears were streaming down her face. ‘Presley, what have I not experienced in life? Besides not being able to see my mom, I have wealth, power, and even the guy I’ve had a crush on for years right beside me,” she lamented What she longed for always seemed within her grasp, yet remained just out of reach, an elusive dream.
Izabella obviously did not want to continue this conversation and turned her attention back to her computer. Presley’s visit seemed to have no effect. Her heart was locked, and nobody could enter.
‘Does Brett know you’re sick?”
‘He doesn’t And I don’t want him to know.” Regardless of her health, she’s always been proud. She would never use her sickness to get pity, especially from Brett who might not even feel sorry for her.
Presley sighed, opened his bag, and took out two bottles of medicine, one for pain relief and one for cancer treatment. “Quit the coffee, take your meds, and eat on time…”
With a bunch of reminders, Presley took a deep breath and left.
Jpon the sound of the closing door, Izabella looked at the two bottles of medicine on the table and then checked her phone, only to find that there were no messages besides those related to work.
Brett had been absent from home for two weeks straight. Izabella was gradually letting go of old habits, such as leaving the light on or cooking for him. However, she couldn’t resist the urge to check her phone every night.
She had hoped to rid herself of her feelings for Brett all at once, but love was like a venomous weed that had deeply rooted itself within her bones. It was terrifying, and just when she believed she could sever it, it had already grown into a towering tree, casting a dark shadow over her entire life.
In her contacts list, only one name remained: Brett. She hesitated for a moment, then pressed it.
She called three times in a row, but no one answered. She wasn’t disappointed, except for feeling a bit numb.
Not giving up, Izabella called again, persisting like never before since their marriage.
After a long series of beeps, maybe the fourth call finally annoyed him, and Brett picked up.
“What’s up?”
His cold and ruthless tone reached Izabella’s ears.
At least the absence of communication for seventeen days came with the benefit of emotional stability, as she didn’t break down in tears at the sound of
Brett’s voice.
Her voice came out hoarse, “Can you spare some time to come home this weekend?”
“Why, are you that desperate to be around me? Izabella, you’re such a bitch”
Izabella stiffened.
The one who loves first and loves the deepest is never equal in the relationship. And Brett never loved her, so she remained at his mercy.
Enduring, she replied, “I have something important to talk to you about, something you’ve always wanted. Are you sure you won’t return?”
Brett didn’t respond, but instead, faint noises and Kaley’s gentle voice came through the phone. Izabella couldn’t make out what she was saying, but she heard Brett soothing her.
What if the window was left open? Why else would she feel so cold right now?
Suddenly, Izabella felt a suffocating chest pain, as if she was a fish gasping for air on the shore, close to death.
A muffled groan emerged from her throat, along with a mouthful of blood.
Finally, Brett answered, “What’s up?”
Swallowing the blood, Izabella tried to sound nonchalant, “Brett, if I told you I was dying, would it make you feel even a little bit sorry for me?”
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