Chapter 8 Begging
Rosalie never showed up.
Hugo sped all the way home, nearly crashing a dozen times, and burst through the front door like a man possessed.
No matter where Rosalie was, one thought consumed him: he had to find her.
But the living room was empty. The couch, the study, the bedroom- nothing. Not even the balcony she used to love sitting on.
Gone. She’d taken every trace of herself with her. All that was left behind was a broken photo frame.
When he was in bed with Sylvie right there, Rosalie had seen everything on that mattress.
He’d even talked to Sylvie in front of her, laughing about how messing with her made it more exciting. What was she thinking at that moment?
He thought of her eyes so calm that they barely registered emotion, and it felt like lightning cracked through his chest.
His sobs were so hard and fast he couldn’t breathe. That’s when he remembered the calendar. The marks Rosalie had made.
Turns out, she’d already planned to leave him.
That countdown? It wasn’t for them to get back together. It was counting down to the day she’d walk away from him forever.
0.00%
Hugo grabbed a shard from the broken frame and drove it into his palm.
As if pain could somehow make him understand what she’d gone through.
But it didn’t work. He could’ve stabbed through every finger, and she still wouldn’t come back.
He got seriously ill after that. His body healed, but his heart? It was like someone had left a needle in there and it would never come out.
The doctor ran tests. The diagnosis was severe depression.
Even with meds, his dreams were full of memories of her and the way they used to be.
They’d been together since college.
Rosalie majored in foreign languages. She had a golden opportunity to study abroad. Still, she gave it up to stay with him and help build the company in America.
He’d work until 3 a.m., and she’d be beside him.
A warm coffee was always beside his hand, and a soft wool blanket was tucked around him when he dozed off.
But now, even if he starved himself down to skin and bones, Rosalie still wouldn’t show
- up.
He needed pills to hold himself together. Eventually, he was so desperate that he ended up kneeling outside his mom’s bedroom door.
Rosalie wasn’t the kind of woman to cut people off unless you hurt her too deeply.
And if anyone could reach her now, it would be his mother.
“Mom, if I can’t see Rosalie again, I don’t want to live.”
“Then why did you mess around with her best friend in the first place?”
Hugo couldn’t answer.
Maybe it was lust. Perhaps it was how Sylvie always acted so fragile. around him.
Rosalie was always proud and graceful, too strong to ever cling to him like some helpless little girl. But Sylvie? She knew how to play that part.
When Teresa slammed the door, he jammed his fingers in the frame to stop it.
It crushed his hand so badly that blood dripped down his wrist. That was the only thing that made her pause.
He stayed on his knees, his head hanging so low that it almost scraped the floor as if he were about to break.
“Mom, please just let me hear her voice. That’s all I’m asking.
“I swear, if you let me hear her voice, I’ll sign the divorce papers. No more stalling.”
Finally breaking under his desperation, Teresa picked up the phone and dialed.
