Goodbye, Mr. Regret

Timothy had asked him out at noon, and now, in the afternoon, Vince was reaching out too. Did these two men really think of him as some kind of errand

boy?

"We're in the middle of a spat, so enough talking-just hurry up already."

Yates tried calling Timothy, but his phone was switched off.

Left with no other option, Yates replied to Vince's message.

"Vince, if you ask me, Timothy's got you beat. He didn't just ignore your call-he turned his phone off. Didn't even give you a chance to talk. Honestly, maybe it's time to back off. If anyone else tried to steal his wife, he'd have handled them already. Why push it and turn yourselves into enemies? We're all men here. Whether you love your woman or not, you can't expect someone else to just sit by and watch. Let it go, alright?"

Yates always thought Vince was the one in the wrong here-after all, Timothy and Jessica were legally married.

"If you can't get through to him, I'm hanging up.”

Vince snapped his phone shut and rubbed his forehead. Yates was right-Timothy was more ruthless than he was.

Now that Timothy had hidden Jessica away, it wasn't going to be easy to find her.

It was nearly midnight before Jessica finally sank into a deeper sleep. Only then did Timothy gently lift her and lay her in bed. He knelt beside her, slipping off her shoes, then carefully pulled the blanket over her.

Timothy sat at her bedside the entire night.

On his white shirt, near the abdomen, there were scattered dark stains of blood.

The next morning, Jessica woke to the sound of someone making breakfast. She opened her eyes slowly, the faint golden light filtering through the blinds almost too bright to bear.

The room was small. When her vision cleared, she saw the tall, familiar figure standing at the kitchen counter.

She tried to sit up, but a wave of soreness washed over her muscles. Instead, she leaned back against the headboard, unwilling to move.

Timothy seemed to sense she was awake. He turned to look at her, his dark eyes unreadable through the glass partition between the rooms.

A moment later, he turned away. The sandwiches in the skillet were done; he

turned off the heat, slid them onto a plate, and sliced them neatly into small squares. He spooned out the thick, nourishing broth he'd been simmering and added it to the tray.

Timothy walked over with a steady, graceful step. Stubble shadowed his jaw, and his usually immaculate

shirt was wrinkled, stained with dark,

dried blood around his midsection.

He set the tray on the nightstand, then bent down to grab her pillow. Supporting

her back, he tucked it behind her waist.

Jessica watched it all, her face expressionless.

No matter how gentle he was now, she felt nothing.noveldrama

His wounds could reopen; she wouldn't worry for him anymore.

His stubble could grow in; she wouldn't bother to replace his razor blade.

His shirt could stay wrinkled; she no longer cared to get up early to iron it for him.

She didn't even want to know anymore whether he was being genuine or just putting on an act.

None of it mattered.

Timothy sat down beside her, his voice low and gentle. "Let me help you wash up, then we'll have breakfast, okay?"

Yesterday, Vince had brought her something to eat, but she hadn't touched a bite.

She didn't speak or move. Timothy didn't press her, just lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bathroom.

No matter what he did, she barely reacted, like a shell without a soul.

Timothy pressed his lips together, squeezed toothpaste onto her brush, and handed it to her. He had bought all the toiletries early that morning.

Jessica took the toothbrush without a word. The moment she put it in her mouth, a wave of nausea hit her.

She pushed Timothy away?

stumbled to the toilet, and vomited.

Timothy rushed over, anxiously rubbing her back.

And then he saw it she was vomiting bright red blood.