Chapter 6
663words
He looked up, saw me, then saw Landon behind me—his lips trembled, but he said nothing, just tears streaming down his face.
The doctor looked at us, removed his mask, his expression weary and regretful, saying things like "We did our best."
Those words floated into my ears but didn't sink in.
I only saw Dad's hunched back, the gurney pushed out by nurses, covered in a white sheet.
Landon rushed over, trying to lift the sheet to look, but Dad blocked him silently.
The look in Dad's eyes toward him was filled with unfamiliarity and a deep, pained anger.
Just without the strength to erupt.
"Landon," Dad's voice was hoarse beyond recognition, "leave. Don't come back."
"Uncle, I..."
Landon tried to explain, but the moment he met Dad's gaze, all words stuck in his throat.
He turned to me, his eyes filled with unprecedented chaos and pleading.
"Chloe..."
I avoided his gaze, walking to Dad's side and gently supporting his trembling arm.
"Dad, let's take Mom home."
I didn't glance at Landon again.
The next few days were a blur of chaos and numbness.
Handling Mom's funeral arrangements, receiving condolences from relatives and friends.
Landon came a few times, but Dad and I turned him away at the door.
Everything he sent was returned untouched.
I didn't cry—at least not in front of others.
I just mechanically did what needed to be done, responding to condolences, while the emptiness in my heart grew, cold wind whistling through it.
Until the funeral ended, guests left, and it was just Dad and me at home.
Facing Mom's photo with her gentle smile, I finally curled up in the living room corner, shaking violently without a sound.
Tears came late, pouring down in torrents, silent but fierce, soaking my clothes and the cold floor.
Dad came over, sitting quietly beside me, gently patting my back like when I fell as a kid.
Neither of us spoke—the pain of losing a loved one made any words feel hollow.
A week later, I moved out of the "marital home" with Landon.
There wasn't much to move—most things I'd brought in gradually, now I just packed them back.
That wedding ring I'd once treasured, I took it off and left it on the living room coffee table.
Landon's messages and calls started bombarding me like crazy.
From initial explanations, apologies, pleas, to later anxiety, questions, finally turning into a obsessive attempt to salvage things.
He blocked my path downstairs at home, at the office entrance, repeating "I'm sorry," "I didn't know it would turn out like this," "Give me another chance."
I just looked at him calmly, seeing the red in his eyes, the new stubble on his chin, the way his once vibrant energy had turned to gloom.
Strangely, my heart felt no ripples—not even much hatred, just thinned out.
Maybe after extreme heartbreak, all that's left is complete indifference.
"Landon."
One time, when he blocked my way again, I spoke, my voice surprisingly flat.
"My mom died. Because of your 'lesson,' because of those rumors, because she couldn't wait for the doctors."
"We were over the moment you hid your marriage from me."
"Everything you're doing now—it's meaningless."
He stood there, his face pale as a ghost.
"Chloe, I'll make it up to you—I'll spend my life making it up... It was all Summer—she spread the rumors, she provoked your aunt! I didn't know she was that vicious! I'll make her pay!"
"That's between you two," I interrupted, stepping around him to walk away, "It has nothing to do with me."
Yes, nothing to do with me anymore.
His remorse, his revenge, how he and his legal wife tangled and tore at each other—it was all like a story from another world.
My world, the moment Mom closed her eyes, had become nothing but desolation.
