The rain came without warping.
Fat Tabsdrops pelted Navier’s body, ice cold and being to the lume
Her wounds were still raw. The rain soaked through her handlages, bringing waves of searing pain.
She tried to maneuver her wheelchair, desperate in lease, but there was no way to hail a ride on the expressway.
Her fingers, frozen stiff from the cold, struggled to grip the wheels that kept slipping on the wet surface, nearly tipping over several times.
Finally, at a turn, the wheelchair lost lane and crashed to the ground.
Navier’s knees slammed against the cold cement, searing open her wounds. Blood ran down her legs, mixing with rainwater to stain the ground red. She hut down hard fighting through the pain as she tried to get up, but her weakened body failed her again and again
The rain fell harder. Her vision blurred until she couldn’t tell if it was rain or tears streaming down her face.
She lay there, her body trembling, an overwhelming sense of humiliation clawing at her chest.
Lysander had abandoned her for a glimpse of someone with the faintest resemblance to Ophelia How had she ever convinced herself he might someday love her?
A bitter laugh escaped her lips, then turned to silent tears
She didn’t know how long she lay there.
Eventually, with sheer willpower, she forced herself up–inch by inch–until she was back in the wheelchair.
Her clothes were soaked through, her wounds bleached white from the rain, the pain nearly numbing, Still, she gritted her teeth, inching forward, pushing the wheelchair toward home.
The hours later, she finally made it home.
The housekeepers gasped when they saw her- bruised, hattered mess, soaked to the skin, barely able to sit upright.
Navier seemed not to natio
I not to notice their expressions. She simply said quietly. “Prepare some hot water and clean bandages.”
Lysander didn’t return until that right.
His suit was slightly disheveled, his expression weary, but his eyes held disappointment.
Navier sat on the sofa, glancing up at him. Her voice was eerily calm. “Couldn’t find her?”
“I found her, but she wasn’t like Ophelia after all-
He didn’t even notice Navier’s injuries, nor did he ask how she’d gotten home.
His thoughts were consumed by that Ophelia-like silhouette. It was as if Navier’s existence was merely air.
For the next two days, he left early and returned late, spending every spare moment staring at Ophelia’s photographs, lost in thought.
Naver watched from a distance and felt absolutely nothing
Her body was healing.
And so was her resolve,
That day, she gathered everything she’d ever owned in this house–clothes, jewelry, perfumes–things she’d bought to please Lysander.
She piled them in the yard.
13:17
Almost in Love with You: Before That Cruel Santomer Tank Everthine
Then the lit a fire and threw the items in one by one.
The names devoured the memories, seeming to burn away her obsession feelings as well.
Just as the fire was dying down, Lysander returned.
Seeing the flames in the yard, fils expression transformed. He charged forward and kicked over the fire pit.
Embers scattered everywhere. Some landed on her bare skin, making her hiss in pain.
“Ah.
What the hell are you doing?!” Lysander’s furious voice cut through the air. “Who the fuck gave you permission to burn Ophelia’s things
Navier looked up, wincing from the pain. “These weren’t hers. They were mine.”
Lysander froze, then rushed to his study to confirm Ophelia’s possessions were intact. Only then did he relax
He exhaled, his frustration now directed at her. Then why the hell burn your things?”
Navier lowered her head, staring at the still glowing embers on the ground, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Because I’m leaving.”
