shuhaige
Chapter 128
Chapter 128
Half an hour later, Megan returned to the villa, stepping out of the car without bothering with an umbrella, allowing the rain to drench her, feeling each drop as a baptism for her soul and emotions. Her shoes left a trail of wet prints on the pristine white carpet.
The housekeeper didn’t dare offer advice, only went to brew some ginger tea to ward off the chill for her.
Megan ascended the stairs, and the first thing that caught her eye was their “wedding photo.”
Sullivan had been reluctant to take the picture; it was she who had persisted, spending so much money to get it done. How many times had she gazed at that photo, hoping that one day Sullivan would love her?
But now, every glance was ironic! Upstodatee from Novel(D)ra/m/a.O(r)g
Megan stepped onto the bed and took the photo down. She removed it in haste, and the sharp edge of the steel frame slightly cut her hand, leaving a streak of blood… Bright red droplets fell, shockingly vivid.
But Megan seemed not to feel the pain. She threw the frame to the floor!
Then she moved to the vanity, sitting down slowly. The mirror reflected the disheveled image of a woman. Megan quietly looked at herself in the mirror. Her whole body trembled, her hair soaked and clinging to her face, her clothes drenched and sticking to her skin. She resembled a woman abandoned by her husband, no–a fate even more wretched than abandonment.
To be abandoned, at least, is to have been loved once.
But her, she had loved him for six long years, only to be told he wasn’t done playing yet!
Megan lowered her gaze, slowly opening the little drawer; inside, the diary lay intact, chronicling the youthful hopes and dreams of her entire adolescence.
With a bloodstained hand, she took out the diary. She flipped through it in a daze, reviewing her numb adoration for Sullivan, realizing how foolish she had been!
[On the first day of our marriage, he was rough, but I thought he would come to understand that it wasn’t my fault that night.]
[He would become gentle; he would come to love me!]
Megan’s eyes filled with tears, feeling sorrow and irony. She felt it was all so unworthy for her past self.
Now, looking back, she couldn’t even remember what it was she loved about him.
The only times he was good to her were part of a calculated deception.
Megan gently closed the diary. She took it along with the picture frame and also found Sullivan’s lighter, which he usually used for his cigarettes, on the nightstand. She carried these items slowly to the balcony. She was ready to burn these ridiculous things, along with her ridiculous affection for Sullivan.
The sky continued to rain, and drops of water fell from the stone eaves above the balcony.
Megan didn’t hesitate; she set the items alight.
The flames rose up, and she stepped back, sitting down on a lounge chair. The pale orange flames reflected on her pale face, casting a glow.
In the courtyard, a black Bentley sped in, screeching to a halt.
Sullivan leaped out of the car and entered the foyer just as the housekeeper was about to take the ginger coffee upstairs, who, upon seeing Sullivan, pursed her lips and said, “Madam seems very upset; she’s upstairs!”
Sullivan was about to head up when suddenly he stopped in his tracks. He smelled something burning! The scent was coming from upstairs, faintly invading his nostrils, but it alarmed Sullivan greatly.
“Megan! Megan!”
Calling her name, he hurried up the stairs.
Megan wasn’t in the bedroom, but there were wet footprints, and on the bed, a stain so clear and evident. Sullivan’s gaze shifted upwards; the wedding photo
3 “bove the bed was gone!
He sensed something amiss and rushed to the vanity.
The small drawer was left open, and the diary was also missing.