4
I should feel pity for him, right? But who pities me?
12:31 PM
<
And fine, if he wants to blame me for the car accident, I’ll accept it. But what did he mean by saying I didn’t come to the hospital because I was being difficult?
My blood started to boil.
Ryan, however, ignored my growing frustration and leaned in, trying to kiss me.
Suddenly, an image of Claire in his arms from my previous life flashed through my mind.
Disgust churned inside me, and I pushed him away violently.
I ran to the bathroom and vomited, my body shaking with revulsion.
When I came back out, Ryan’s face had turned icy cold.
“Nina, do I disgust you that much? You can’t even pretend for a moment!”
“If you need someone, go find your precious Claire,” I shot back, my voice as cold as his. “She’s sweet and considerate–everything I’m not, right?”
I cut him off before he could respond, thrusting the divorce papers at him again.
“Just sign the papers. The sooner, the better.”
Ryan was at a loss for words, his anger barely contained. After a tense silence, he forced himself to explain, his voice tight with frustration:
“I’ve told you a thousand times, Claire is just an employee. There’s nothing between us, Nina. Why can’t you believe me?”
I looked up at him, eyes blazing, and his tone softened in response.
“Nina, I’m recovering from an accident here,” he pleaded, reaching out for my hand. I instinctively pulled away.
He took a deep breath, his frustration visible, but he still knelt in front of me, trying to calm me down. His eyes were full of sincerity.
I stared at him, a bitter feeling rising in my chest.
In my past life, he had apologized countless times for Claire, explaining himself and asking for forgiveness.
And every single time, I had forgiven him.
But what did I get in return? Every time Claire and I clashed, he took her side, standing against me.
As a woman, I saw through Claire’s games clearly. I knew exactly what she was doing.
But Ryan always thought I was the one being unreasonable, that I was the one stirring up trouble.
This wouldn’t change, no matter how many lives I lived.
I was exhausted.
“Ryan, let’s just stop this.”
“Three days from now, I’ll be waiting at the Cook County Clerk’s Office. If you don’t show up, I’ll have no choice but to take legal action.”
I didn’t want to die being labeled as “Ryan Carter’s tragic widow.”
Without another word, I turned and walked out.
Behind me, I heard his voice crack, filled with frustration and vulnerability:
“Nina, why are you always so rash? Do you know how unfair you’re being to me?”
<
I had never heard him sound so fragile before.
