Chapter 62
[ 464 words ]
Chapter 62:
“I love you, Ivy. I don’t love Lianne. I never did.”
Lianne’s POV:
I had known all along that Ethan never loved me.
But hearing those merciless words fall from his mouth, and seeing him grind me into the dirt for Ivy’s sake, made it painfully clear that everything I had done for him was nothing more than a pathetic joke.
My heart felt like some savage, hooked beast had ripped into it, tearing it to rags and leaving it raw and bleeding.
Ethan had once said, in that same indifferent voice of his, that he would sever our mate bond after he returned from his business trip.
But when he came back, maybe buried in work or maybe because it had slipped his mind, he never mentioned it again. And I, meek as ever, said nothing.
In the deepest, most hidden part of me, I had even begged in silence that he might forget it forever, wishing this empty bond could survive for one more day, even if it was only one more day.
I had secretly wondered—if Ivy were not there, would he finally see me?
Now the truth had struck me across the face and forced me awake.
S𝗵𝘢𝗋e 𝘆о𝘶r 𝗍𝗁𝘰u𝗀h𝘵𝘴 𝗈𝗻 𝗴а𝘭ոо𝘷𝖾𝗹𝘴.𝗰о𝗺
Even if Ivy had never existed, he still would not have loved me.
“Miss, your card.” A shop assistant rushed over and broke into my stifling thoughts. Her voice was gentle. “I saw you drop it by the entrance.”
“Thank you,” I said softly, slipping the card away before turning to leave without hesitation. I never once turned back to look at Ethan and Ivy inside the shop.
I was afraid that if I did, I would catch sight of him choosing jewelry for her with quiet tenderness, and that image would tear away the last scrap of dignity I had left.
Keeping my face composed by force, I went to find Tracy, who was still trying on clothes in another boutique.
“Lianne, what kept you so long? Look. Does this dress suit me?” Tracy tugged me over, bright with excitement.
I forced a rigid smile onto my face and stayed with her as we went on shopping.
On the fourth floor, we bought the newest handbags and jewelry. Those costly luxuries filled our shopping cart, but they could not patch even the smallest piece of the emptiness inside me.
At five in the afternoon, we walked into a restaurant known for being especially private.
“Lianne, why do you keep drifting off today?” Tracy asked, watching me with worry as she sipped her soup.
“It’s nothing. Maybe I didn’t sleep well last night,” I answered absentmindedly as I reached for the condiment bottle on the table.
Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain tore through the back of my hand. I had knocked over a bowl of boiling soup by accident. The thick liquid splashed across my skin at once.
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