NovelEnglishHis voice was hoarse. "Home." The driver, compliant as ever, steered towards the Ferguson Mansion.
Then, from the backseat, swords cut through, "To LunarLakeBay Villas." The driver hesitated for a moment. Glancing at Bryant through the rearview mirror, he made a U-turn at the next intersection.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtThe rain was still falling, tapping against the car's exterior, but Bryant felt as if it was pounding on him instead. Bit by bit, it seemed to extinguish the pride and dignity that was ingrained in his bones, inch by inch.
The car stopped within the courtyard of LunarLake Bay Villas, and before the driver could offer an umbrella, Bryant stepped out into the downpour with determined strides.
Stepping back into the villa, into the marriage hhe shared with Jane, felt surreal. It was as if it was only yesterday when he'd chfrom a night out, and Jane would be there to greet him, helping him to the couch. Carefully preparing him a hangover remedy.
"Sir, you're not returning to Ferguson Mansion tonight?" Emma emerged from the bedroom as she heard the noise, flicking on the light with a snap, illuminating the room.
Bryant squinted against the bright light. "Hmm." "Oh my goodness, you're soaking wet! Hurry upstairs and take a hot shower, catching a cold in the summer is the worst!" Emma, a long-standing figure in the Ferguson household, acted both as a servant and a sort of caretaker for Bryant, urging him to go up and change.
Bryant simply nodded slightly and made his way upstairs alone, settling into the sofa by the window and lighting a cigarette.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmNothing had changed. She had left, and so had he; only Emma remained, guarding the traces of their three-year marriage. Jane couldn't bear to face it. And he, filled with guilt and reluctance, couldn't dare to. After a while, there was a knock on the bedroom door. It was Emma.
Upon being allowed in, she entered, placing a bowl of hangover soup on the table. "You've been out again tonight, haven't you? I learned this recipe from Mrs. Ferguson; she adjusted it several times until it was just right for you. Remember to drink it before you go to sleep, it'll help prevent a headache tomorrow." Bryant almost smiled, his voice barely a whisper, "...Okay." "Sir..." Seeing him in such a dispirited state, Emma couldn't help but ask, "Is something wrong?" Timothy Ferguson had passed away. Mrs. Ferguson was gone. And around Bryant... there was no one left who truly cared for him.
Bryant chuckled softly. “Emma, was I... really terrible to her?" Emma paused, then gently shook her head. "How could that be? You were always very good to Mrs. Ferguson." In public, he gave her dignity. In private, he provided materially. But, was Emma felt a sense of regret on their behalf, “It's just... something missing." Bryant looked up, asking, "Missing what?" "Love." Emma had seen their marriage up close and sighed, "Bryant, another girl might have been happy with the kind of marriage you offered, but not Jane." "She wanted you, your affection, from the very beginning." "So, it makes sense that she would leave."
After Emma left, Bryant sat rigid on the sofa, lost in thought. The cigarette burned down to the filter droppinglash and a hint of ember onto his skin without him noticing. The rainy night was loud, his face pate and eyes reddened, shattered. She really... didn't want him anymore?
Whether she moved out or asked for a divorce, he had never truly felt abandoned until now. He always she thought she would cback someday. But what he faced instead was the reality of her being with someone else.
Bryant rubbed his face, seemingly unable to accept this truth, and m picked up his phone to dial a familiar number. -Jane.
The call connected quickly, her voice light and cheerful on the other end, "Hello, Mr. Ferguson?"
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