Chapter 9
He looked at me, his eyes full of panic.
I stood up despite the pain, my face calm, showing neither sadness nor anger.
Just the faintest hint of an inscrutable smile as I stared at him.
I thought sadly: what kind of person had I loved all these years?
He tried to reach for me.
But before he could take a step, Emma clung tightly to him, buried in his embrace.
Her voice was weak and filled with dependency: “Ryan…”
James kept his hand on my shoulder, watching them warily, his voice cold enough to freeze:
“Get lost.”
I gazed calmly at the couple:
“Ryan, I regret it.”
I regret loving you.
Regret marrying you.
Most of all, I regret ever having hope in you.
With that, I pulled James away, never looking back.
Sitting in the passenger seat, countless memories tangled together like interwoven threads.
They churned through my mind like violent waves.
Each wave hit me harder than the last, leaving me struggling to breathe.
Hel
He loves her.
The Last Time I Loved Him
Unconscious favoritism is often the truest expression of feelings it can’t be hidden or faked.
It shows in the little things: being the first to notice someone in a crowd, showing unique tolerance and indulgence for their actions.
Like an invisible scale in your heart, naturally tipping toward that
person.
And this unconscious behavior made me understand more clearly than catching them in the act
He loves her.
My phone screen kept lighting up.
Ryan’s messages appeared one after another.
*I’m sorry.
*I was wrong.*
*Did you take your medicine today? Remember to take care of yourself.”
*Baby, I don’t want a divorce.*
*I can’t let you go.”
+
*I love you, Autumn.*
I deleted them one by one, feeling sharp pains in my chest.
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