Shadows Of A Forgotten Spring

Chapter 102

"My mother wants to see you before she leaves the hospital tomorrow," he said quietly, his voice almost breaking.

She hesitated, her eyes flickering with indecision. For a moment it looked like she might refuse. But then she exhaled slowly, the fight leaving her just a little. "I'll come by," she said, her voice weary. "Now, if that's all, goodbye." She turned to leave, her back to him, and he felt a sharp pang in his chest. He wasn't ready for this to end, for her to walk away again. The words rushed to his lips, propelled by desperation.

"Emma," he called out, his voice raw.

She froze, her hand gripping the doorframe so tightly her knuckles turned white. The silence between them stretched painfully.

Alexander's throat felt dry, his heart a leaden weight in his chest. He swallowed hard, forcing his voice to be steady even as he felt it splintering from within.

"My team told me about the house hunting," he said, his tone low, almost hesitant. "You can move into the house without paying a dime."

A bitter, humorless laugh escaped her lips, sharp as glass. She finally turned her head, just enough to let him see the cold disdain in her eyes. Her gaze sliced through. Her voice trembled with restrained fury as she spoke.

words dripped with sarcasm and exhaustion, like someone who had fought too many battles and was tired of wielding her sword. "You should stop the act. Mr. Alexander Black." She

jaw clenched, her chin lifted as if defying the universe

so softly it

she opened the door and locked it

a weight he couldn't shake off. The air was cool, sterile devoid of the warmth it used to hold. Without thinking, he headed straight for the shower. This had become his nightly ritual recently. He let the scalding water run over him, hoping it would wash away the weariness clinging to his soul, but all it did was leave him standing there, hollow

mind, a whisper of regret that never ceased. Her voice, sharp and unyielding, replayed in

out of the shower, steam rising around him. He dressed for bed with slow, deliberate movements, each motion. heavy with exhaustion. As he walked through the door into the room, an emptiness gnawed at him. This house, which had been his sanctuary for years, now felt like a mausoleum - cold, silent, and haunted

she had spent the last four years. The thought should have brought him joy, but it only made the ache in his chest sharper. He knew that the only

bitter irony twisted inside him. Emma was the only person who could heal the wounds of his

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Chapter 102

the one person he had-uanaged to push the furthest away. He owed her so much more than the house he has offered her. He owed her all the

the

from him. The room felt stifling, despite the silence. She had been quiet lately and he prefers that. He lay on the bed, staring at the