He Stole My Corneas Four Times For His First Love Chapter 2

Tapping my cane against the pavement, I blindly navigated my way back to the house I used to call home.

The moment I pushed the front door open, I heard the blaring noise of a daytime soap opera.

And the rhythmic cracking of sunflower seeds.

I accidentally bumped into the hallway shoe cabinet.

An expensive ceramic vase sitting on the edge tipped over and shattered into a thousand pieces on the hardwood.

The deafening crash echoed through the living room.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

My mother-in-law, Brenda, tossed her seed shells onto the floor and stomped over in her slippers.

"You blind, useless jinx!"

"Can you not see a massive vase right in front of your face?"

"David paid thousands of dollars for that antique. You couldn't afford to replace it if you sold your own organs!"

I couldn't see her face, but I could feel the spray of her spit hitting my cheek.

I ignored her, carefully stepping around the sharp shards, and headed for the stairs.

The front door opened again.

It was David's voice.

"Mom, I brought Stella home."

I heard the sound of two sets of feet. One of them stepped with an exaggerated, delicate lightness.

"Oh my gosh!"

Stella suddenly shrieked, practically throwing herself into David's arms.

"Why is the floor covered in broken glass?"

"That is so scary. David, I am frightened."

David immediately wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"It is okay. I've got you."

Seeing this, Brenda marched straight up to me.

She raised her hand and slapped me across the face with everything she had.

My head snapped to the side. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears.

"You vicious witch!"

"You intentionally broke that vase so Stella would trip on it, didn't you?"

"Stella is pregnant! If anything happens to that baby, I will make you pay with your life!"

I froze.

Pregnant?

Stella was pregnant.

So that was what David meant in the hospital when he said two lives.

Judging by Brenda's fiercely protective reaction, the baby undoubtedly belonged to David.

I thought my heart was entirely dead. I thought it couldn't hurt anymore.

But in that moment, all I felt was overwhelming, suffocating nausea.

Touching my burning cheek, I turned my sightless eyes toward David.

"Do you have anything you want to explain?"

David stiffened. His voice was laced with nervous tension.

"Trexie, do not overthink this."

"Stella is only staying temporarily. Her ex-boyfriend abandoned her."

"I could not let her live out there all alone. It is not safe. So I brought her here."

"She has had a hard time. Show a little compassion for a pregnant woman."

He didn't say a single word about who the father was. Every single syllable was a desperate defense of Stella.

"Starting tomorrow, you need to move down to the guest room on the lower level. Stella needs the master bedroom."

A hollow laugh slipped past my lips.

He wanted his blind wife to clear out of her own bedroom so his mistress could nest.

And I was supposed to be compassionate about it.

Stella buried her face in David's chest, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"Trexie, please do not be mad at David."

"This is all my fault."

"If you really cannot stand the sight of me, I will just leave. I will take my baby and throw myself off a bridge."

She made a theatrical pivot toward the door.

David violently yanked her back.

"Where do you think you are going?! From today on, this is your home."

He turned to me, his voice taking on a thick, patronizing layer of guilt.

"Trexie. Stella is blind, and she is expecting. I know you are not a cruel person."

Blind?

I inhaled sharply. The heavy, suffocating scent of a custom designer perfume rolled off Stella's skin.

What kind of blind woman flawlessly applied full makeup and spritzed high-end fragrance every single day?

"David, I want a divorce."

Silence hung heavy in the air.

Then, a deep, frustrated growl.

"Have you entirely lost your mind?"

"Stella is just staying for a little while. Are you really going to hold a divorce over my head over this? You are completely blind. If you leave me, where are you going to go? Are you going to beg for change under a highway overpass?"

He was absolutely convinced I was playing hard to get.

"Fine. You want to throw a tantrum?"

I heard him pull out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times, freezing every single credit card attached to his accounts.

"Go down to the basement storage room and think about how you are acting."

"When you finally accept reality, you can come back upstairs!"

I didn't argue.

The phone in my pocket vibrated with a distinct pattern.

It was a priority email notification.

I knew exactly what it was. A message from the Neural Integration Institute.

Their private jet would touch down in exactly three days.

I turned around, sweeping my cane, and began the slow descent down the stairs to the basement.

There was no heating down there.

Just piles of forgotten boxes and a moldy cot.

But it was exactly what I wanted.

I needed absolute silence to organize my core experimental data.