2. THE END

ꭗ — Rosehollow Estate, Surrey.

TEN YEARS LATER

ㅤ

I really should’ve signed the divorce papers back then.

If I hadn’t been so stubborn, my life might’ve turned out differently.

And once again, Grandpa... I’m too late.

ㅤ

[…] TRIGGER WARNING.

ㅤ

I used to love Christopher Houghton more than anything, even more than myself. I loved him so deeply that I sacrificed every part of my heart and even my soul, spending most of my life trying to make him love me back.

He was my first love... my first and only love — and the cause of my downfall.

Christopher’s bright brown eyes and darker hair mesmerized me. His calm, composed, yet attentive presence warmed my chest from that very first moment.

I didn’t know a heart could beat so fiercely. I didn’t know it was possible to have butterflies in my stomach, but they existed inside me and fluttered every time I saw Christopher. And it went on like that for years, many years, until they started dying, one by one, leaving me so empty that it hurt.

There was a hole in my chest and a torturous need to fill it. At some point, the pure love I felt turned into a deep obsession. I wanted to have him. I wanted him to love me… and I needed him to love me.

But the sound of church bells has always echoed in my head, even after all these years. It occurs when I close my eyes to sleep, and even when I’m alone in this room.

That cursed sound, which once represented the happiest moment of my life, became my worst nightmare.

The preacher asked, “Charlotte, do you take this man as your husband?” and I said, “Yes, I do,” with the brightest, stupid smile in the world.

But if I had known back then that these ten years with Christopher would be a real misery… What would I have done?

Sometimes, I wonder if things would have turned out differently if the people I loved most hadn’t left.

Would I be experiencing all this if Marshall Houghton hadn’t adopted me?

Even after all these years, I can still picture the first time those grand estate gates swung open, and Marshall’s voice echoed, saying, “This is your home now.”

Oh, Grandpa... if you could see me now, would you regret tying my fate to your grandson’s?

If you knew my smile back then would result in years of tears, resentment, sadness, and hatred, would you have trusted me with Christopher?

I can’t help but offer a small, fragile smile, with the last traces of humor I have left.

I know I’m dying.

I’ve been dying for a long time — inside, outside, a piece of me rotting every day.

Not only have I given in to the disease, but I’ve also surrendered to the sadness that has painted my days gray.

Even though outside, the sky remains clear, and the sun continues to shine as always, inside this room is a different story, at least for me.

Not that I care anymore.

I reach out to my belly with my fragile, bony hand and softly stroke it, even though I know my child is no longer with me. He’s been gone for too long.

Maybe the worst part is knowing I never cradled him in my arms, and this agony will cut deeper than any other in my failing body...

The door creaks open, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Lucia, my sweet nurse and now my only friend, enters my tidy, detached room in her flawless white uniform and apologetic smile.

“Time for hemodialysis, Mrs. Houghton,” she says gently, stopping by my bedside. “How’re you feeling today?”

How do I feel today?

The same as yesterday — the same as three months ago, when I understood that replacing that failing organ wouldn’t save me.

But there’s no need to reply. Even if I force the words out of my dry mouth, I don’t feel like talking. I lost that motivation, too, a long time ago… when I also realized that no matter how much I beg, my husband’s love will never be mine.

Lucia gives me a sad smile, her eyes soft but full of pity, and despite my silence, she insists, “Later, we can head outside. It’s such a beautiful day… a stroll in the garden might do Madam some good.”

She carefully moves my hand from my belly and places it on the mattress, then pricks my arm with the needle without even needing to hunt for a vein, as they’re all popping out on my skin.

“I’m sorry, it stings, right?” She’s gentle, but there’s no need to be anymore, since it stopped hurting a long time ago.

By now, I’m somewhat used to it... to the pain and all the nightmares that have become a part of my life.

I’m so fragile now, so indifferent, with pale, dry skin... There’s no sign left of the lively girl who first walked into this house.

There’s no sign of the Charlotte who said “I do” at the altar and swore to live happily ever after with a man who hates me more than anything—

Once again, the door opens, this time busted, and I have to glance down to see the little girl standing on tiptoes, gripping the doorknob tightly.

My heart immediately softens as she looks at me, her smile brightening the room like the sun itself has visited me.

She rushes to the edge of the bed, her loose brown hair swaying with her yellow dress.

“Kyra! Didn’t your mother scold you for coming here?” Lucia says, hands on her hips, as she switches on the machine that pulls my blood through the tube.

I blink slowly as I watch the little girl lean over the bed, reaching for my hand.

“I wanted to see Aunt Lotte!” Kyra says with a pout. “I missed her...”

“Auntie is taking care of her body right now. Why don’t you come back later? I can bring tea and cookies if you don’t tell your mother.”

“I can do that!” Her big brown eyes sparkle, bringing a faint smile to my lips that no longer know how to react. “This big machine... Does it hurt?”

“It hurts a little, but Auntie needs it,” Lucia says, glancing at me. “She needs to do this to get better.”

Lie.

I won’t get better.

I’m dying, and Lucia knows it...

But just as I don’t remember my parents, who died when I was five, it comforts me to know Kyra won’t remember me either.

“I don’t want Auntie to feel pain…” Kyra’s eyes well up with tears, and she clutches her tiny hands to her chest. “I want to help Auntie!”

She pauses, lost in thought, then her eyebrows raise quickly as if she just had a brilliant idea.

With a spontaneous and affectionate gesture, she leans in and gives a long, smacking kiss on my hand, on this arm that has only known pain.

“Do you really love Charlotte, don’t you?” Lucia strokes Kyra’s brown hair, which is exactly the same shade as her father’s.

In fact, Kyra looks so much like Christopher that she’s a spitting image.

“Yes… I love Mommy more than anything!” She nods several times.

My sweet girl… if you call me that, Evelyn will get mad at you…

“Do you think if I kiss her every day, she can get better and talk to me again? I want her to sing to me and tell me bed stories!”

Since this is the only emotion I can show right now, tears gather in my eyes, and one rolls down my cheek.

Lucia’s eyes widen, and she quickly wipes it away before Kyra notices.

“Kyra, honey, you should—”

“What are you doing here, Kyra?” The familiar sharp voice makes me look slowly toward the entrance. “Didn’t I tell you not to come here anymore?”

“M-Mother…” Kyra’s shoulders slump as she lowers her head.

“Go to your room.”

“Miss Evelyn… she just wanted to see how Madam is…”

“Quiet! Don’t you dare interfere in my daughter’s upbringing! You’re just a low-grade nurse taking care of a dying woman!” Evelyn yells sharply and loudly, and I just blink, her words no longer affecting me. “This dead weight will die soon, and you’ll be kicked out of this house!”

Kyra sniffs, fighting back the tears.

“Don’t cry! Why are you always crying? All you do is cry!” Evelyn raises her voice even more, a vein bulging in her neck. “Go to your room now, you little weakling!”

Unable to speak or control her tears, Kyra runs out of the room, crying loudly, passing through her mother’s legs, who doesn’t even care.

I try to raise my hand and reach out to her, but I can’t. It’s so hard... I barely have any strength left in my body. Even if I want to hug her and make her feel better, like I used to when she was a baby... I can’t.

I’m just stuck here, in this sick body, unable to do a thing.

And just like that, the room falls into heavy silence again, as if a storm clouded my little sun and took it away.

But it doesn’t last long.

Evelyn’s high heels click on the floor as she walks toward me, looking so elegant and beautiful... Her painted red lips and perfume make me feel sick — or maybe it’s the machine pulling and returning my blood, but honestly, it doesn’t matter.

“You leave, too,” she orders Lucia, who looks worried at me.

“But…”

“Leave!” Evelyn snaps, quickly raising her hand. She slaps Lucia across the face, causing the nurse’s head to jerk from the impact, clenching her teeth to hold back words that could lead to more trouble.

“Do you want me to tell Christopher you’re disobeying me?”

Lucia gives me an anxious look, and I subtly nod my head to reassure her that it’s okay.

Helpless and frustrated, my dear friend drops her shoulders and walks out of the room, closing the door with a soft thud.

Now that we’re finally alone, Evelyn gives me a triumphant smile and steps closer, her footsteps are a sound I’ve come to despise as much as the church bells on that cursed wedding day.

She stops by the bed next to the machine and puts her hand on it, meanness flashing in her green eyes.

“Do you still remember the day you tried to steal Chris from me?” Evelyn’s voice is low now but dripping with sarcasm. “You were grinning like an idiot, but Christopher… Christopher looked like he was at a funeral.”

I keep looking at her without reacting, and that only makes her more amused.

“Are you happy, Charlotte?” She asks, almost singing, with a malicious smile. “You spent years trying to make him love you, but all you did was make him hate you more. Your husband hates you so much that he doesn’t care if you’re dying, or about that miserable little shit you called your child and almost brought into this world. And do you know why? Because Christopher despises you, Charlotte… He despises you more than anything. And the only happiness you can bring him now is to die.”

I know that.

Christopher and I have only hurt each other over these ten years of marriage.

“If only you had signed the divorce papers when that old man died… But no, you kept trying to make our lives a living hell. And now, look what happened… Karma is collecting its dues.” Evelyn slides her hand over the machine, touching the tube that returns the blood to my body. “But it really breaks my heart to see you in this state…”

I blink slowly.

“Do you want me to put you out of your misery?” Evelyn asks, laughing, and takes her hand off the machine. “No, of course not... You’d never let Christopher go, would you? You want to stay alive just to make him as miserable as you are.”

I really held on to life, thinking I would never die and leave him to live happily. Not after everything I’ve been through... not after everything he’s done to me.

For ten years, he made me watch him love his perfect mistress, but not me. Love her child, but not mine — he didn’t shed a single tear when our son died in my womb.

I wanted to punish him.

I wanted revenge.

I wanted him to feel as pathetic as I did...

But of course, none of what I did worked — Christopher indeed never cared about me, not for a single second.

“You know it’s only a matter of time, right?” she laughs, touching her chin thoughtfully. “You’re going to die, Charlotte... And even in death, you won’t get Christopher’s attention. You never got his love, and you won’t get his pity now.”

Evelyn’s words are all true.

Since my illness has worsened, he hasn’t visited me even once. He’s barely home anymore.

“Honestly, Charlotte...” She leans over me and presses my arm, where the catheter is, hurting, making blood escape. “Why don’t you just die already?”

I don’t say a word... just look at her silently, and she laughs as if my current state is genuinely funny.

“Think about it... If you want to end your misery, just call me... I’ll do it for you with pleasure.”

Evelyn gently touches my face, running the tips of her red nails over my pale skin, then pats my cheek twice before pulling her hand away and wiping it on her skirt in disgust.

“And stay away from my daughter,” she says, turning her back to me. “Kyra is mine.”

Evelyn’s shoes click on the floor again, closing the door and leaving me alone.

Honesty… Why am I clinging to such a miserable life?

Why am I stuck in this decaying body, this broken mind that can no longer find any trace of happiness?

“I’m... tired,” I whisper huskily, my throat dry and swollen... and I pull the cables carelessly, yanking out the catheter deeply embedded in my arm with the last of my strength in this rotten body, which causes more blood to trickle from the small wound, staining the fancy wooden floor.

My head feels heavy and foggy. Everything spins as my vision darkens.

Still, I force my body to obey and plant my feet on the ground over the slippery blood.

Taking a deep breath, I try to support my skeletal body on my trembling, weak, thin legs, but of course, I can’t. I haven’t been able to stand on my own in a while, and I’m too nauseous and dizzy from the recent hemodialysis.

I lift my head and look toward the balcony, noticing the light coming from outside. The curtains sway, and a gentle breeze enters the room, reminding me of the feeling of freedom, something I lost a long time ago…

No… something I threw away myself.

If I had known that ten years with Christopher would turn out to be this nightmare... I wouldn’t have tried so hard for his love — I wouldn’t have sacrificed everything for him.

In the end, my biggest regret is not signing those damn divorce papers.

I crawl across the floor, staining my clothes with my blood, using my brittle nails to scratch the wood as I force my knees. Slowly, I reach the balcony, and the world unfolds before my eyes.

The sky is blue, and the garden trees, so green, sway freely in the wind.

Free.

If I had the chance to be free... I would live life on my terms, doing everything I couldn’t.

If I had a second chance, I would seek only my happiness.

I would make every day count... and I would live for myself without regrets.

Yes, I promise.

I rest my arms on the balcony railing and gather the strength to stand, finally on my feet.

“God...” I call out weakly, looking at the sky, and pray...

Please, at least let me be with my son.

I take a deep breath and, with trembling limbs and great effort, carefully climb onto the thick concrete railing.

The wind tousles my hair and brushes against my skin, and for the first time in many years, I feel at peace.

I close my eyes, listening to the steady beats of my tired heart...

And without hesitation or fear of the death that has held me for so long, I let myself fall... surrounded by a warm, welcoming darkness, shutting down my emotions for the last time.

…

You know, Christopher, if I could go back in time, I’d do things differently.

This time, I’d finally let you go.