Chapter 55 A Cozy Night
"Get off me!" Emma yelled, thrashing around like a wildcat, her voice a mix of despair and fury. But George wasn't budging.
"No way!" George's voice was low and kinda crazy, like he was letting out all his pent-up frustration.
He suddenly grabbed the collar of Emma's sweater and ripped it apart in one swift move.
Her skin was exposed to the cold air in a flash.
George tossed her onto the bed, giving her no chance to escape.
"George, let me go!" She fought with everything she had, but she was no match for George's strength. The spot where her tumor was started to throb painfully.
George ignored her, too busy venting his anger, tearing off her clothes. Emma knew what was coming next, but she didn't want it.
Maybe once, she thought making love was a happy thing, but now, it was just pure agony.
As her clothes hit the floor piece by piece, Emma felt drained. She realized her struggle was pointless, only wasting energy and making George more excited.
Emma's heart turned to stone; she went limp like a puppet.
Then, she laughed.
A crazy, maniacal laugh.
After laughing, Emma started to cry, tears streaming down her face and soaking the pillow.
George's heart skipped a beat, staring blankly at the broken Emma. The scars on her body seemed like invisible chains, suddenly wrapping around his heart, making it hard to breathe.
George pushed himself off Emma, sitting on the edge of the bed, quietly staring at her unhealed wounds.
Emma noticed and sneered, "Sorry, Mr. Russell, did I ruin your view?"
George stared at her, his brows furrowed, the anger in his eyes fading away.
Her clothes were in tatters, revealing countless scars, each one like a dagger to his heart.
"You..." George's voice was low, his eyes filled with complicated emotions, his heart aching. His hand trembled, unable to believe he had caused her so much pain.
Emma lowered her head, her eyes full of despair and helplessness, her heart long dead. She didn't fight anymore, letting him wrap her in the blanket, feeling a bit of warmth, but it only made her heart colder.
"You said you were pregnant before you went to prison. How did the baby die?" George finally spoke, his voice tinged with guilt and helplessness.
He gently wrapped the blanket tighter, trying to comfort her, but not knowing how to face it.
"As you said, my baby is dead and gone. What's the point of asking now? Will she come back to life?" Emma's voice was weak, trembling slightly, "I don't care anymore."
"Emma, answer me!" George's heart tightened, a flash of pain in his eyes.
"Do you really enjoy rubbing salt in my wounds?" Emma responded softly, tears glistening in her eyes, "In prison, you forced the baby to be born early and then killed her! Just to get back at me for Anna. George, you did it. I don't love you anymore. I hate you!"
George's heart grew heavy, looking at the pained Emma, his heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand.
He gently pulled Emma into his arms, feeling her body tremble, a wave of heartache washing over him. He said nothing more, just held her quietly, feeling each other's heartbeat.
As the night deepened, the room was filled only with their breathing. George's heart was a mess of emotions, his chest feeling like it was being pierced by a thousand needles, never having felt so uncomfortable.
"No, you're lying." He finally said in a low, gentle tone, "You still love me..."
In a foggy haze, Emma thought she heard George say something.
In the stillness of the night, George held Emma tight, just staying with her until the morning light peeked through the curtains, casting a glow on the tangled mess of emotions between them.
Emma woke up naturally in the morning sunlight, the light filtering through the curtains, warm and gentle.
She got up quietly, walked to the bathroom, and carefully put on some light makeup, trying to hide the exhaustion on her face. Then, she headed to the wardrobe, looking for clothes from three years ago.
She figured the room's stuff and wardrobe would be filled with Anna's things by now, but nothing had changed.
Finally, she found that white shirt and dark pants. After putting them on, she felt a jolt, like she was back in the days when she loved George with all her heart, but those days were long gone.
She fixed her hair, took a deep breath, and gathered the courage to go downstairs.
When she walked into the dining room, she was surprised to see George already there, buried in the newspaper. The sunlight highlighted his strong profile.
Emma found it laughable. He had ripped open her wounds, yet the next day he could act like nothing happened.
He was such a cold-hearted man.
"Morning." George looked up, showing a gentle smile, and said with concern, "Come have breakfast."
Emma was slightly stunned. When had he ever spoken to her so gently, wanting to have breakfast with her!
Was she still dreaming?
Emma glanced at the breakfast; it was all her favorite food. No point in fighting her body, so she sat at the farthest spot from George.
"Do you really want to sit that far away?" George put down the newspaper, his brows slightly furrowed, a hint of displeasure in his eyes, saying, "Are you so reluctant to stay with your husband now? Have you already fallen for my uncle?"
"Mr. Russell misunderstood, I'm dirty, afraid of ruining your appetite." Emma replied sarcastically.
"Didn't you say you'd only love me in your life? Has your life already ended?" George's tone was filled with dissatisfaction.
"Yeah, my life is pretty much over." Emma took a bite of the sandwich, her tone hard to read. She was telling the truth; the tumor was getting worse, who knew how long she had left.
Just as the tension thickened, the door suddenly opened, and Anna walked in with a swagger. She immediately saw Emma and George at the dining table, her face darkening, eyes flashing with jealous anger.
"Why are you having breakfast with George?" Anna's voice was filled with displeasure, her gaze darting between the two, searching for something.
"What are you talking about? This is my home. Is there anything wrong with having breakfast with my husband in my own home?" Emma's questioning gaze made Anna's expression change. She clenched her bag tightly, the veins on her hands bulging, but she was good at acting, walking towards George with a look of grievance, "George, should I not have come? Emma seems jealous again."
"You're the one who's jealous!" Emma quickly finished the food on her plate, thinking of leaving this suffocating scene as soon as possible.
"Are you really leaving like this?" George's voice was filled with displeasure, his gaze fixed on her.
"I have work to do." Emma stood up, trying to appear resolute.
"I'll take you to the office." George stood up, his eyes flashing with an unyielding determination.
"I can go by myself." Emma felt a wave of irritation, knowing she couldn't escape this complex relationship.
"I don't want to repeat myself." George's tone became firm, seemingly not allowing her to refuse.
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