Outside, everything went completely silent.
Caroline Richardson didn't know if Charles Chapman had heard her words, but one thing was clear: he never cared about her dying.
He wouldn't care about her at all.
Caroline stopped shouting, her body sliding down the door as she curled up on the floor, biting her hand to stop herself from crying.
Her youth, her love, her marriage—all began and ended with Charles.
"Charles, I've love you for sixteen years.
How many sixteen years do we have in life?
How could you bully me like this just because you know I love you?"
Caroline let out a painful sob.
She hadn't eaten breakfast, only had a glass of milk, and now she was hungry, her stomach aching painfully.
Using the last of her strength, Caroline crawled to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and threw up. All she vomited was stomach acid, burning her throat.
Even after throwing up, her stomach kept cramping. Caroline knew she couldn't vomit anymore, or she would start bleeding.
So she could only cover her mouth tightly, groaning in pain.
Caroline returned to her room, opened a drawer, and took out two bottles of medicine.
She would have to rely on these to get through the next three days.
There was no purified water in the room, so Caroline had to take the pills with tap water.
Her esophagus was narrower than most people's, and the dry pills stuck in her throat, slowly dissolving into a bitter, acidic taste.
Caroline made a mess of herself, trying not to gag while forcing down four pills.
After swallowing the pills, Caroline retched, feeling the medicine almost come back up. She clamped her mouth shut, the bitterness lingering, unable to be washed away.
Caroline curled up on the bed, holding the blanket tightly from day to night.
The originally stuffy weather turned freezing, making her feel like she was losing her mind.
Her pupils dilated, floating aimlessly.
As the light dimmed, she retreated under the covers like a turtle.
Thunder rumbled outside, and a flash of lightning lit up the room through the glass, making her cozy bedroom look terrifying.
Shadows danced on the window, and another bolt of lightning struck, followed by a deafening thunderclap.
"Crack!"
It sounded like the sky was being torn apart.
"Ah!" Caroline screamed, clutching the blanket, cold sweat pouring down her body.
In the pitch-black stormy night, she couldn't see her hand in front of her face.
Fear made her imagine monsters on the ceiling ready to swallow her, or a hand reaching out from beside the bed to grab her.
She didn't dare move, just holding herself tighter.
"Charles... "
"Charles..."
"Charles!" She screamed his name, her voice going from trembling to a desperate shout, as if trying to rip him out of her heart.
The empty room echoed with thunder from outside, but no one answered her calls.
She felt utterly abandoned, as if no one wanted her and no one would remember her.
...
Charles locked the door and left Knoll City.
His phone beeped with a weather alert: thunderstorms tonight.
He glanced at it and put it back in his pocket.
He remembered Gianna Griffith was afraid of thunderstorms, but Caroline... she had the nerve to defy him, so she shouldn't be afraid of thunder, right?
Charles drove to Gianna's house, but his mind kept drifting back to Caroline, making him restless.
Charles hated feeling out of control. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, and while waiting at a traffic light, he couldn't help but punch the wheel in frustration.
...
Gianna had recently recovered from an illness and looked a bit pale. When she saw Charles walk in, her eyes lit up with joy.
Her once-pale face brightened with his presence. "Charles, have you eaten?"
"No."
"Then I'll cook for us."
This apartment was bought by Charles, and the fridge was stocked with high-quality ingredients by his staff.
As Gianna busied herself in the kitchen, Charles found his thoughts shifting to someone else, merging Gianna's image with Caroline's.
He remembered that Caroline had cooked meals for him many times, waiting for him to come home, but he had never tasted them.
Gianna sensed someone watching her.
She turned, holding a spoon, and smiled when she saw Charles. "Charles, go sit in the living room."
She had known Charles since they were kids and understood him like no one else.
In this respect, Caroline could never compare to her.
Charles nodded and went to the living room.
He turned on the TV, which was showing the most popular talk show, filled with laughter in the background.
But he didn't find it funny at all.
Staring at the screen, his thoughts wandered back to Caroline, picturing her tear-streaked face and pale complexion. His heart clenched.
As he left the bedroom earlier, he had heard Caroline's desperate cries.
She said she was dying.
He hadn't care, but why did his heart suddenly ache, like being pricked by a needle? The pain spread through his body, reaching every corner.
He rubbed his forehead, feeling a vein throb.
Growing more agitated, Charles sat on the couch, his feet unconsciously pointing toward the door.
When Gianna brought out the freshly made soup, she smelled the acrid scent of cigarette smoke.
She followed it to find Charles lying on the couch, his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing a muscular forearm.
His long fingers held a cigarette, and as he took a drag, blue-gray smoke obscured his face, making his emotions unreadable.
YOU ARE READING
Sir, Your Wife Has a New Lover
Chick-Lit*Warning: Painful Love & Depictions of Violence!!!* Caroline loved him with all her heart for sixteen years, only to be told to leave with nothing so he could make room for the woman he truly loved. Charles thought he would be happy without her, un...
