Loving You for Five Years in Despair

Name: Loving You for Five Years in Despair
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Gabrielle Zayne

Short stories | Completed

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I had chased after Ethan Quinn for five years, and he finally agreed to marry me. Two months before the wedding, I was in a terrible car accident. I tried calling him three times, but each time he hung up on me. Why? Because one of his childhood friends had suggested he pull away for a while, thinking it would make me less clingy. When I finally crawled out of the wreckage, I was covered in bruises, my right arm completely shattered. It was then that I truly understood-some things just can't be forced. But he... he started waiting outside my door every day, his eyes red, asking me to give him five years in return.

Fantasy Betrayal Love triangle CEO Scheming Badboy Sweet Arrogant/Dominant Romance Runaway bride

Chapter 10 No.10

02-19 15:33

Chapter 1 No.1

When I was rushed to the hospital, my clothes were torn, and my body was covered in wounds.

The doctor sighed as he examined me. After such a long delay in treatment, it was likely my right hand couldn't be saved.

If only I had come sooner...

I stared blankly at the hospital ceiling, absorbing the doctor's grim words. My right hand had suffered a compound fracture, and the chances of recovery were slim. I might never be able to paint again.

Tears welled up, streaming down my face, as a deep sense of despair slowly crept through my entire body. Why couldn't I just learn to let go?

What was Ethan Quinn doing right now?

Maybe he'd opened a bottle of red wine last night, celebrating the fact that I wasn't pestering him. Or perhaps he was sitting at the piano with some childhood friend, enjoying a quiet, intimate moment. A bitter smile tugged at my lips. At least I wouldn't be in the way anymore.

Then, my phone rang. It was Ethan Quinn.

I slowly closed my eyes. This time, it was time to let go.

Ethan stormed into my hospital room, his clothes perfectly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight. He frowned when he saw me, his gaze cold, like an aloof deity looking down from above. "What's this game you're playing? Why didn't you pick up my call?"

"Is this really why you're upset?" His voice cut through my pain. "I told you I was busy. Why can't you understand that?"

His words tore open the wound that was still bleeding inside me.

For a moment, my numb heart seemed to stir, like it could feel again. He didn't even ask how I was. Without a second thought, he had already judged me. Even now, lying here covered in injuries, I still couldn't get a rise out of him. After all, it had been five years. And yet, one word from Ethan still unraveled me.

I gazed at him, sorrow welling in my chest, unable to speak. My eyes brimmed with tears-eyes that seemed to plead, but were also resigned.

The sterile white walls around me reflected his indifference, and the sharp scent of antiseptic mocked my futile efforts.

Maybe Ethan had never seen me like this before. He looked slightly uncomfortable. "You should rest. Don't forget about the international art exhibition next week. I have to get back to practice."

He added, "The international piano competition is really important to me, so don't bother me during this time."

With that, he turned and left without a single glance back, never once asking about my injuries.

I watched Ethan hurry away, a cold shiver running through me. I couldn't find my voice. This was the boy I'd chased for five years.

Tears fell uncontrollably. I had once naively believed that my sincerity and passion would touch Ethan, that it would make him turn back to me.

The international piano competition was important to him. His childhood friends were important to him. But what was I?

I had once believed that persistence would be rewarded, just like my dedication to painting. But reality had struck me hard-it wasn't true that everything would have a happy ending just because you stuck with it. My sincerity had meant nothing to him. So why had he promised me anything? Why had he given me hope?

As the sun set, I curled up on the bed, trembling, feeling as though I had returned to that night-alone, trapped in the car, unconscious for who knows how long, feeling as if I might die.

Before I lost consciousness, I made a call. I thought of Ethan first, but even after passing out for the entire night, no help came.

Maybe I had been wrong from the start. I was always the one forcing things, just like with my art career-there was no place for me in fate's plan.

After five days of treatment, my body began to heal, except for my hand.

The doctor recommended I go to a better private hospital for further treatment. I laughed bitterly. I couldn't afford that.

I left the hospital and returned to my apartment, where the cramped room was filled with paintings.

It was at the graduation party five years ago that I first fell for Ethan. Since then, his image had appeared in every one of my paintings.

The whole room was filled with works related to Ethan. Over the years, it felt like I had been living in his world, slowly losing myself along the way.