When Left -
CHAPTER 102
When she left. He went crazy
Chapter 102: How Did You Hurt Your Hand?
Chapter 102 How Did You Hurt Your Hand?
I couldn’t quite read Christopher. Instinctively, I took a step back and repeated my question, “What do
you mean?”
Christopher seized my wrist, rubbing gently against the spot where my pulse beat. “Let’s not get divorced, okay? From now on, no matter what happens, I only want you. I won’t care about others‘ opinions.”
1 asked, “Including Brenda and Evelyn?”
He replied, “Yes.”
I found it utterly ridiculous. “Do you even believe what you’re saying?
If this was a sudden epiphany, it came way too late.
I hadn’t expected Christopher to believe me today, but it wasn’t enough to make up for all the past rifts.
Christopher’s voice was deep and slow. “You still disagree?”
I stared at Christopher and uttered, “Yes, I disagree.”
If we could go back to the time before we lost the baby, I might have agreed immediately. But now, I couldn’t think of
any reason to agree.
Maybe because of the time he stepped over me to help someone else after I’d been knocked down, or when I had a miscarriage, and his slap stung harder than the loss, there was no mending the fracture in our marriage.
Christopher was silent for a long time, his grip on my hand tightening. Finally, he looked at me with clear eyes full of irony. “I can even pretend I didn’t see those photos. Isn’t that enough?”
His words felt like a bucket of cold water poured over me in the dead of winter, chilling me to the bone. I attempted smile, but tears came first. Breaking free from his grip, I asked, “So, you never really believed me? Christopher, is that what you think of me?”
I forced a smile, but tears came out first. I broke free from Christopher’s grip, asking. “So, you never believed me? Christopher, is this what you think of me?”
“…” His expression suddenly turned panicked, and he reached out to touch me.
I dodged his hand, stepping back while laughing bitterly. “In your eyes, I’ve already been with someone else. Wow, what a dirty woman I am. Aren’t you disgusted by me?”
Christopher seemed stunned. “I didn’t…”
I shouted, “Christopher, stop being such a hypocrite!”
With that, I turned and ran upstairs, slamming the door shut..
Chapter 102: How Did You Hurt Your Hand?
I hid in the bathroom, forbidding myself from crying over Christopher anymore. But the tears kept rolling out. Even if I was set on a divorce, I wasn’t invulnerable, I was human; and I could feel pain too. How could Christopher insult me like this?
Eight years, and this was what I got. It was pretty pathetic.
After that incident, Christopher and 1 seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. For three or four days straight, I would wake up to find Christopher already gone, and he wouldn’t come back until I was asleep. We didn’t see each other, so it wasn’t hard to endure.
Cecil, on the other hand, sent me a few messages, asking if I was okay and such. I knew Christopher was stubborn and obsessive, and their relationship was already tense, so I replied that everything was fine, telling Cecil not to worry. There was no need to drag Cecil deeper into this.
That night, as I lay in bed reading after washing up, I suddenly heard a commotion downstairs. Instinctively, I got up to
check.
Just as I opened the door, I heard Barry almost pleading, “Even if you don’t care about your own health, think about your grandfather. If your health fails, what will happen to the family?”
In the vast Valence Manor, the only people Barry would address with such respect were Christopher and me. I paused at the door, feeling a tug at my heart before trying to calm myself. Christopher was almost thirty; he should know how to take care of his own body.
Before it fully shut, I heard Christopher’s hoarse voice. “It’s not a big deal. Call the doctor.”
I reclined in bed, intent on immersing myself
in the book again, but after some time, I realized I was clutching it upside down. My thoughts drifted to Christopher. If it was because of that gunshot wound, it should have been mine.
Restless, I closed the book and was about to step onto the balcony for some air, but a soft knock on the door came, accompanied by Barry’s voice. “Mrs. Valence.”
I shot up and crossed the room swiftly. “Barry, how’is Christopher?”
“He has a fever,” Barry revealed.
Momentarily relieved, I assumed it was a mere cold. But then Barry continued, “It’s an infection from the gunshot wound from a few days ago. He refuses any medical attention.”
He added cautiously, “I know you are getting divorced, and I shouldn’t be here, but he’s been calling your name in his
sleep…”
I clenched my fists, saying, “I’ll go see him.”
This all began because of me, so I felt a sense of responsibility.
Christopher’s cheeks were an unnatural crimson due to the fever. His long lashes cast delicate shadows, and though his breathing was steady, his brow was furrowed, as if he was haunted by some unseen burden.
Barry pointed to the bedside table. “The doctor prescribed these anti–inflammatory medicine. They should bring
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Chapter 102: How Did You Hurt Your Hand?
the fever down.”
I nodded. Thank you.”
“Til leave you to it. Call if you need anything.”
As Barry left, only Christopher and me were left in the room. I approached and touched Christopher’s forehead. It was burning hot.
Just as I was about to pull my hand back, Christopher grasped it instinctively, murmuring, “Honey, why do you want a divorce? Don’t leave.”
His every word echoed hauntingly in the quiet room.
I stood there for what felt like eternity, then leaned down and gently patted his face. “Christopher, wake up. You need to take your medicine.”
His eyes fluttered open slightly, and he looked at me in disbelief. Suddenly, he drew me into his arms, whispering, Im sorry. I failed you. You’re right; I’m a bastard, a jerk”
His unexpected embrace threw me off, but I managed to avoid his wound. The heat radiating from his fevered body. was unmistakable.
He was delirious. When sober, Christopher would never admit such things.
Supporting myself on the bed, I felt a mix of anger and helplessness. Then just divorce me already and stop wasting my time.”
“I don’t want to,” he mumbled, his arm still around my waist, eyes closing again as his voice faded.
With a sigh, I pried his hand off and stepped back from his embrace. But just as I was about to withdraw my hand, something caught my eye.
The inside of Christopher’s wrist bore several burn marks, some new, some days–old, but they made me uneasy. Christopher was smarter than leaving scars on himself here and there, so the wounds were intentional.
Given his status, no one would dare harm him like this except himself.
I.fought back tears, pressing my fingers to my eyes, and patted Christopher’s face again. “Christopher, what’s with the burns on your hand?”
He mumbled something unintelligible.
Leaning closer, I asked again, “How did you hurt your hand?”
In his sleep, his brow furrowed as if in thought, then relaxed. “When I think of Hope, I burn myself a little, so my heart wouldn’t hurt as much.”
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Chapter 102: How Did You Hurt Your Hand?
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