Rain in the Haze of Years Chapter 2

But I didn't die. When I opened my eyes again, Victoria was at my bedside, her own eyes red-rimmed and raw.

She pulled me into a desperate, crushing hug, swearing to me through her tears.

“Liam, you scared me to death.”

“I won’t get pregnant again. I promise.”

But that's the thing about people. Once a promise is broken, it will be broken a thousand times more.

The second time she got pregnant, she—a woman who never smoked—sat on the balcony and chain-smoked all night.

I knew she was torn. She wanted the child but felt bound by her promise to me.

Then Alex showed up at our door. Before I could even say a word, he threw himself to the floor, claiming I had pushed him.

Victoria was livid. In her rage, she lost the baby.

That was the first time I saw her truly lose control. She wrapped her hands around my throat, intent on killing me.

“I already promised you! I was going to get rid of it! Why did you still have to hurt him?!”

It was my second brush with death. My lungs burned, air turning to fire, and just as I thought I was about to black out, she threw me aside like a piece of trash.

The undisguised disgust in her eyes was a physical blow. Any words of explanation I had were trapped in my throat, a nauseating lump of unspoken truth.

Victoria moved out of the home we had built together with our own hands. From then on, if I ever needed to speak with her, I had to go through Alex. Only with his permission would she answer my calls.

Two months later, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The doctors said it was too early to know if it was malignant, and they started me on conservative treatment.

I sent Victoria a message. It was Alex who came.

He cornered me in our empty home.

“Do you really think faking an illness will make her come back to you?”

“Don’t be so naive. Do you know what she said in my bed last night? She said the sight of your face makes her sick. If you hadn’t saved her all those years ago, she would have kicked you to the curb a long time ago.”

As he left, when I wasn’t looking, he poured a bottle of hand soap onto the bathroom floor.

Later, I slipped. My head cracked against the tile, and a pool of my own blood blurred my vision.

I called Victoria, but the line was always busy.

After the tenth call, she finally texted back four words: Alex says no.

The ambulance was slow to arrive. By the time they got there, the blood around me had grown cold.

The doctor said if they’d been any later, I would have been gone.

Lying in the hospital bed, I stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to understand how Victoria and I had become this.

I thought, let it be.

It’s fine.

Just let it be.

From that day on, I think my love for Victoria finally died.

And so today, watching their retreating figures, my heart was a placid lake.

A specific ringtone, the one I had set for a special person, cut through my thoughts. I answered.

“Yeah, the divorce papers are drafted. I’ll give them to her tomorrow.”

“Come and get me the day after.”