A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Chapter 23

In the silence of the hospital room, Matilda’s eyes flickered open, greeted by a blur of dim light that gradually cleared into a coherent world.

She took in her surroundings until the door creaked open, and a figure walked in, snapping her back to reality.

Yvan stood at the threshold, his expression a twisted tapestry of emotions that flickered across his face before dying in the depths of his dark eyes.

Matilda stared numbly at him, wordless. She had imagined countless scenarios for a reunion with an old flame–the world was cruelly small, and those you’ve loved deeply had a way of resurfacing. But never had she envisioned Yvan standing before her like this.

In a manner so brutally final, he thrust her back into the abyss of despair.

Sensing her silence meant she had no desire to speak, Yvan cleared his throat awkwardly from the doorway. “You’re awake.”

Matilda gave him a frosty glance, remaining silent.

He stepped forward, lifting her chin with a firm grip, and as he met her sc

unexpected pang of pain twisted in his chest.

smile playing on his lips. “Matida, I should’ve ended you five years

your part.”

laughter rang out, sharp and clear, in response to his words. “Oh, how generous

Yvan’s mocking tone

eyes narrowed, her frailty masked by the lethal sharpness in her

Yvan felt

You shattered my life five years

she spoke, “What excuse are you trying to scrape

a comer. She shouted at him. “Ivan, just answer me this–if Rachel’s death had nothing to do with me, will you ever be able to settle the debt you owe me in

blow as his grip loosened, and he stumbled back incredulous. “What did you say?”

it her earlier defiance had exhausted her “Yvan i don’t hate you anymore. I think you’re pitiful enough that it

looked up, the love that once filled her eyes for him was replaced by a void, consumed by the hatred of tive

a man with the kind of looks that could drive a city of women mad.

years ago, she had been one of them, recklessly throwing herself towards his flame only to be destroyed and

self–mocking gesture. “I have no regrets, no hatred, Just five years in jail. Now that I’m out, I’m still alive