His Wish, My Dying Heart

im light. I sat alone in the living room, a solitary figure dwarfed by expensive furniture

s the large picture window, a momentary flash that announced his

the light switch, and the room was instantly flooded with a blinding, indifferent glare. He saw me, sitti

desperate plea in my voice, hoping

' t even slow. He kept moving, a phantom in h

palms, the pain a welcome distraction from the deeper ache

t a div

rsh overhead light, his silhouette was formidable, unyielding. He lo

n years. Ten years I had loved him, devoted myself to him. Ten years of sacrifice, of hopin

is voice was flat, laced with barely concealed c

ers brushed against the familiar shape of the painkiller bottle inside. For a moment, my gaze lingered there, a quiet acknowledgment of the const

document held out like a peace

almost cheerful tone that cracked at the edges. My smile felt b

y I had known your heart belonged to someone els

apers from my hand. He didn' t read them. Instead, he slapped th

the assets now, are we?" he sne

"No," I whispered, my voice barely

s gaze cold and disbelieving. The sile

n he refused to believe could be innocent. He heard rumors, saw me with another man-Justin Neal-a man who

marry me, a move he resented deeply, convinced it wa

with chilling contemp

I repeated, a desperate sincerity in my voice now. "I don' t want anyt

se," he said, his voice soft, almost lyrical, yet each word was an ice shard piercing

The air left my lun

inued, his voice hardening, "whi

ady spray of cold water. He was probably trying to wash away the lingering presence of me. His knuckles were whi

attered on the floor. Slowly, I bent down and pick

was my mother. Her voice was frantic, choked with tear

idal wave. My family' s business was on the brink of collapse, teeterin

r, suddenly made a chilling kind of se