The Ex-Husband's Endless Regret

When I finally opened my eyes, the sterile scent of the hospital hit me like a physical blow. Vincent walked in, his gaze briefly sweeping over my wounds. He tried to reach out his hand and touch my forehead. I turned my head away, dodging his touch.

"What are you doing here?" My voice was barely a rasp.

His hand froze in mid-air.

"I'm your boyfriend." Vincent argued, his voice dripping with a cold, cynical tone. "If I don't show up, who else would?"

His words were a blade, twisted precisely into my heart. Maybe he was right. If he didn’t come, who else would it be?

My mother had died young. My father was biased, and my stepmother was like a venomous snake. That house was nothing but a cage I had been trapped. I had built my life on arrogance and rebellion, pretending I didn't need care from anyone.

For six years, it was Vincent who helped out whenever I needed him. He had let me lean on him, and led me to mistake I had finally found a safe harbor. But now it was Vincent who had just shoved her back into the abyss. My heart ached until it went completely numb.

"Even if no one cares about me, I don't need you."

My eyes were rimmed with red, burning with unshed tears. Vincent mistook my silence for stubbornness, thinking I was just forcing myself to act strong. A faint, almost imperceptible frown creased his brow. Before he could speak, a nurse hurried into the room.

"Mr. Corleone, Miss Elara Borgia is done with her tests. She’s been asking for you."

Lyra snapped, like a scared cat.

"Go play nursemaid to your ex-girlfriend! I don't need you!"

Vincent stared at me in silence for a few seconds. He held back his impatience, trying to convince me of his affection.

"Elara is just an ex. You’re my girl.” He said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding cadence. “Furthermore… we'll hold a wedding ceremony soon. Have you forgotten you already accepted my proposal? Don't be jealous over someone irrelevant."

I couldn't stop it. A laugh tore from my throat, sharp and jagged. I laughed so hard that my entire body trembled, sending sharp, blinding pain through my wounds. But the physical agony was nothing compared to the absolute devastation in my chest.

"Vincent, are you serious about marrying me?” I forced my laughter down, lifting a face stained with tears. “Or, you just want to find someone to marry to get what you want?” I stared at him, my eyes as cold and broken as shattered glass.

A strange, faint tremor hit Vincent's chest. Something unnamable flashed in his dark, fathomless eyes, gone before it could be caught. This was the first time Vincent had ever seen me cry.

Even if he had been ruthless with me in bed, I had only ever bitten my lip in stubborn defiance, never letting a single tear fall. His frown deepened, suppressing a sudden, inexplicable discomfort in his chest.

"Enough. I have urgent matters to attend to. I'll come back later."

Watching his resolute, retreating back, I finally collapsed against the pillows, letting the tears fall in a silent, endless stream. I thought I would cry for hours, but my body had already reached its limit. I had simply run out of tears. In the sterile ward, all that was left was a dead, freezing void.

For the next few days, I was entirely alone, tending to my own wounds. Occasionally, I would hear the nurses whispering in the hallway. They were talking about Elara, praising her luck. Vincent was feeding her by hand, staying up all night by her side, treating her as if she were made of spun glass. His partiality for her had become an open secret.

One day, passing by Elara’s ward, I paused and peeked through the cracked door. Vincent was sitting by the bed, peeling an apple with meticulous care, while Elara rested against his shoulder, smiling up at him with gentle affection.

The scene was like a red-hot iron nail driven straight into my pupils. The world went black for a second, my heart seizing in violent, agonizing spasms.

But I didn't cry. I had finally learned how to love, and now, I was learning how to let go. From this moment on, I would never shed another tear for Vincent Corleone.

The second I was discharged from the hospital, I applied for my visa. I was done waiting. I refused to waste one more second breathing the same air as Vincent.