Twisted Ties of Love

Only Liam was by Brett's side now, tasked with managing his diet, daily routine, and treatment.

Outwardly, everything seemed normal, but in truth, his lungs were beyond repair. Sometimes, when he looked at the X-ray images, he couldn't help but wonder how a person's lungs could become so hideously unrecognizable.

Liam tried his best to keep the news of Izabella's wedding from Brett, but Brett found out anyway.

That was the thing about him - although he kept saying he'd moved on, he couldn't help snooping for tidbits about her.

Yet, Brett appeared indifferent, eating and drinking as usual, as if he didn't care at all.

Initially, Liam thought he really had let go.

That illusion shattered when Brett, in a fit of pain, fainted and mumbled Izabella's name in a delirious state, revealing he'd never stopped caring for a moment.

"Izabella," he'd whimper in agony, his voice laced with grievance and a cry.

When he woke up, Brett acted as if he'd forgotten he'd called out for Izabella.

Liam asked him, "President Windham, have you truly let go?"

"What are you talking about? I've moved on a long time ago," Brett replied with a nonchalant smile.

But once Liam left, Brett stared blankly out the window at the barren branches, as though his soul had fled. What was unattainable would forever remain so, and what was gone would never return. Izabella had taught him how to love and be loved, but also a harsh truth: not every unrequited love finds an echo.

Like a mirror shattered, not everything could be mended to its former state.

Liam often asked, "Does it hurt?"

Yes, it did. Not the lungs, but the heart.

The pain surged violently, as if a blade was repeatedly stabbing him from inside out, as if a rope was tightly wound and pulling taut, causing spasms that felt like his chest would split open. It was as if ants were gnawing away, dragging him into an endless abyss.

Beyond the torment of his illness, insomnia inflicted its own agony, depriving him of sleep through the long nights.

In frustration, he slapped himself twice, the sound echoing eerily in the quiet night, the sting numbing his palms and face. It took moments for the numbness to reach his brain, his ears ringing. Slap!

Brett hit himself again, cursing while seemingly immune to the pain.

"You deserve it! You squandered her love!"

Slap!

"What right do you have to hurt?"

Slap!

"She doesn't want you anymore. What's the point in missing her so deeply? She was already too good to you."

Slap!

His late-found deep affection was less than worthless, not even on par with gutter maggots.

"She's married now, to someone else. She doesn't want me," Brett muttered as he clutched his chest, the fabric of his shirt twisted in his fist, sobbing uncontrollably and retching from the pain, crying for the firs time until he could hardly breathe.

He recalled Izabella's words that even when they had gotten their marriage certificate, he hadn't reacted as strongly as he did at the sight of her wedding. Only then did he understand the meaning of the old adage: "Parting ways leads to happiness for both parties. Live safe and well, and they would not meet again."

He was far from happy.

The day of Izabella's wedding arrived quickly, dominating the headlines and social media, with every outlet vying to spread the news far and wide.

When Brett turned on his phone, he saw the notifications but didn't click through.

He wanted to see her one last time, but he knew he had no right. To Izabella, what was he?

The most familiar stranger, a lifelong adversary. Their relationship was as distant as it was close - ex-husband and ex-wife.

He was acutely aware of the circumstances of their divorce; he had traded Izabella for Kaley's safety. He knew how much pain and suffering Izabella had endured to get to where she was today. He had no right to disturb her.

"Liam, I need a drink," Brett said.

Liam, who was quietly organizing things, didn't respond.

Insisting, Brett added, "After all, today is a day of great joy for her."

"President Windham, drinking now could be life-threatening. Besides, there's no alcohol at home," Liam replied, having anticipated this moment and removed all the liquor from the house long ago.

The harsh overhead light cast a

pallor on Brett's already sickly

complexion His appearance had deteriorated; with a shaved head, ke resembled a monk. His body was skeletal, his cheekbones

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pronounced, his eye sockets deeply sunken, his frame devoid of any excess flesh, ribcage visible beneath his skin.

"Living like this is pointless," he muttered, sustained by medication.

"But you have to keep living, don't you?"

Brett gave a bitter laugh. "You can go. I want to be alone for a while today."

Understanding Brett's frame of mind, Liam hesitated for a moment before leaving, giving Brett the solitude he sought.

Once alone, Brett removed his oxygen mask and weakly made his way to the computer. The short walk left him shaking, and he gasped for breath as he sat down.

He searched for Izabella's name. As soon as he typed it in, the live feed of her wedding with Casey popped up.

Someone had secretly recorded the event. After clicking through several links, he found a shaky, blurry live stream. Yet, he instantly recognized Izabella.

The red dress suited Izabella, turning her into a dazzling vision.

As he watched the overwhelming sea of red at the wedding, he remembered Izabella's words: "Brett, you never tried to understand me."

It turned out that Izabella had always liked this kind of wedding. The wedding dress placed beside the sofa looked out of place.

Perhaps it wasn't that Izabella disliked the wedding dress he had chosen for her; maybe she just disliked him.

The video continued to play on the computer, with congratulatory messages scrolling underneath. Brett's eyes caught a comment as it slipped by.

"What a beautiful couple."Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

Brett's lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile, remembering how he and Izabella were once praised as a perfect match.

Izabella flinched at the sudden burst of noise as the fireworks rocketed into the sky; instinctively, she covered her ears. Casey, standing close by, wrapped his arms around her, gently placing his hands over hers to shield her from the loud booms.

Before the eyes of all those

gathered, the couple pledged their vows, exchanged rings, and sipped from a shared glass of sparkling champagne. They called out to their parents, gratefully accepting the well-wishes and monetary gifts From that moment on, Izabella was no longer alone; she had found a family that truly cherished her-someone to comfort her when she was hurt, to hold her when she was cold, to sweeten her sorrows,

and to ensure her life was filled with peace and happiness.

The glare of the computer screen bathed Brett's face in a harsh, pale light.

He couldn't bring himself to watch the entirety of the wedding livestream. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, his eyes growing dry but refusing to close, until Izabella's face appeared in full view. Only then did a fleeting spark of light flicker in his eyes.

After a moment, Brett lowered his gaze to the ring on his finger, its simple elegance catching a faint shimmer under the light.

Liam headed downstairs to instruct the chef to prepare a meal suited for the convalescent-dishes that were light and bland in flavor.

Brett, born and raised in J City, was used to the understated tastes typical of his hometown, where the emphasis was on the refinement of cuisine.

The chef's offerings, while appropriate for someone recovering and in line with Brett's palate, failed to tempt him; he found them increasingly flavorless with each bite.

As Brett looked at the meal Liam

brought in, memories of Izabella's

cooking flooded his mind. She used

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to whip up an entire spread each night, leagues ahead in taste and variety compared to these dishes, and she never failed to surprise him With a different menu and

presentation.

Despite the passage of time and the countless places he'd been, sampling a myriad of flavors across numerous restaurants, none had surpassed the taste of Izabella's cooking. Back then, he had known true happiness.

When Izabella loved him, she had given up her favorite spicy dishes, learning to craft meals that catered to the delicate tastes of J City.

Now, accustomed as he was to blandness, he found himself craving the bold flavors that Izabella had once adored.

"I want something spicy. There's just no taste in my mouth," Brett muttered.

Liam set the plates on the table one by one, eventually handing Brett the fork in silence, as if to say, "Are you serious?"

Taking the fork, Brett picked up a piece of steamed vegetable and chewed thoughtfully before remarking, "It's tasteless, actually, it's bitter."