A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

A faint knock at the door broke the silence of the secluded mountain retreat.

“Who’s there?”

The locale was nestled deep in the woodlands, surrounded by a community of farmers tending their fields. Who could possibly come knocking?

“Hello there, I’m from just around the bend. Made a bit too much stew and thought I might bring some over for you.” The earnest voice of a local yokel followed, and the man with the sandy hair sneered, muttering. “These country bumpkins sure are simpletons.”

Matilda sensed her chance and let out a few weak cries for help, only to be silenced by a harsh punch to the stomach from the man.

As the door opened, hope flashed before her eyes, but she could no longer make a sound to call for help.

Please… someone notice me here…

Her consciousness began to slip away, and in a hazy mist, she thought she saw the blond man fall to the floor and a shadow rushing towards her.

With her consciousness fading, right before she blacked out, she thought she saw a pair of

eyes…

The next moment, she closed her eyes emptily, lifeless, her entire being void of vitality.

“If I could start over, Yvan, I would choose differently. I would never fall in love. This world has twisted me into a monster, taking everything from me, destroying all I had, and in the end, it wants to destroy the last kin I have in this world,” she said inwardly.

In this web of sins, no one can claim innocence. Everyone bears their share of blame.

Matilda felt herself plummeting into an abyss, surrounded by darkness, silence, and void, her body continuously falling until all strength left her.

Matilda lay unconscious for a full five days.

Yvan sat by her bedside, his eyes red with strain, unable to shake the shock of first seeing her on that disheveled bed. The bloodied woman lay there, still as death, her fingers clenched so tightly that even in her unconscious state, he couldn’t pry them apart.

His heart felt as if it had been gouged out, leaving a gaping, bloody hole in his chest. Holding her hand, he trembled.

He didn’t understand his own panic. Who had done this to her? Who kept pushing her to the brink of death?

10:50

“Matilda, please wake up. Let’s get you to the hospital.. don’t fall asleep…”

He followed her into the ambulance, clutching her bloodstained hand, his body convulsing like he was having spasms. At that moment, the towering figure of a man seemed as helpless as a child. “Please open your eyes, okay? Don’t scare me… Matilda, don’t let this be real…

Adrian sat aside, his expression cold and detached, yet his face was deathly pale. He never imagined Matilda could be so ravaged, lifeless, as if she were gone forever. He knew her to be cunning, playing her games among men, but he never considered that one day, seeing such a vibrant woman devoid of life, how he would face her. He had to admit the harsh truth: Matilda had suffered brutally.

Innocent of the hatred she bore, innocent in the loss of her loved ones, and innocent… in the repeated hurt inflicted by Yvan.

Though Adrian sat composed, his heart trembled. He wanted to go to her and see the extent of her injuries, but he had lost the courage.

He was afraid. Afraid that she might no longer exist in this world. He loathed her, but why, upon seeing her like this, did his heart feel as if it were being pierced with needles?

When Matilda was rushed to the hospital, the two men stood in the corridor outside the operating room, their eyes reflecting unease and panic when they faced each other. Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

Yvan seemed to finally lose his strength, slumping against the wall and collapsing into a chair.

He murmured, “Who… who could have…”

Adrian stood up and walked back down the hall.

Yvan called after him, “Where are you going?”

Adrian’s calm facade’finally cracked, his hands clenched tight. “You wait here for her results. I… I’m going to check on her son.”

As they diverged, their eyes betrayed their emotions.

Adrian left, stepping into the elevator, pressing the button for the lower floor, and then made his way to the pediatric ward to see Logan peacefully asleep.

Noticing someone enter, Logan opened his eyes. His injuries were minor, just some scrapes. It seemed the assailants hadn’t dared to harm the child as they had Matilda, or perhaps they saw him as the final bargaining chip, sparing Logan from such vicious treatment.

The boy looked up at the man and whispered, “Hi, Sir.”

Adrian’s heart skipped a beat, his voice hoarse. “Hey there, kiddo.”

Logan lifted his head. “Where’s my mom?”

Adrian sat down beside him, struggling to keep his voice steady, “Your mom’s doing just fine. Don’t you worry.”