Chapter 215
"Let go of him?" Layla's voice was laced with melancholy as she chuckled to herself, her words barely a whisper. "To surrender the man I cherish above all else, our marriage was supposed to be merely a week away, and what about the unborn child I'm carrying? I love him with a fervor that surpasses life itself. How can you ask such a thing of me?"
Alice exhaled a weary sigh, her voice a soothing balm against the raw wound of Layla's heartache. "I understand your torment, Layla, but if Samuel's affections have waned, why subject yourself to such self-inflicted torment? I initially believed a simple disagreement had sparked this chasm between you two, a misunderstanding that could be mended with open dialogue. But if he truly cared for you, he would never have allowed Nora to strike you, especially not in his presence."
The words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the insult that had been inflicted upon Layla.
After a moment's hesitation, Alice continued, her voice steady, "Often, we women hold men in such high regard, or we simply refuse to accept the harsh reality, instead fabricating excuses to justify their actions. Consider my cousin, for instance. He was always the epitome of a loving father and devoted husband, his relationship with my cousin-in-law the envy of our entire family.
"Yet, one day, he abruptly sought a divorce, turning his back on his wife and children. My cousin-in-law initially believed he was grappling with work-related issues and didn't wish to burden her with his troubles. She even visited the hospital to investigate if he was suffering from a grave illness. But the harsh truth was that he had become entangled with a college girl barely eighteen years old.
"When my cousin-in-law discovered this, she was in utter disbelief. Even when my cousin confessed, she still believed it was merely a ruse."
Alice paused, her voice growing somber. "Sometimes, we women can be incredibly naive, while men can be selfish, callous, and remarkably adept at deception."
"You've been justifying Samuel's actions, but perhaps he simply fell out of love, or he prioritized the interests of the Eilish family over your own. It might not be as complex as you perceive."
Alice was acutely aware that her words were harsh, but she firmly believed that a brief period of pain was preferable to enduring prolonged suffering. Confronting reality and exposing the wound was the only path to swift healing. Self-deception would only exacerbate the situation.
"I cannot claim to know Samuel's motivations," Alice admitted, "but I do know that if a man truly loves a woman, he wouldn't abruptly call off their wedding and inflict such profound hurt."
Layla felt as though her heart was being continuously steeped in a bitter brew.
"I need some time to reflect, Alice. You should return home."
"How can I leave you in such a state? I'll stay with you."
"I just need some alone time," Layla murmured, cradling her head in her hands and covering her ears.
Alice parted her lips as if to protest further, but instead acquiesced, "Very well. Just try not to overanalyze things and ensure you get some rest. If you don't feel up to going to work tomorrow, I'll call in sick and keep you company."
With a final glance of concern, Alice reluctantly took her leave.
Layla remained alone from afternoon until the encroaching darkness of nightfall. The blanket lay discarded on the floor, her body growing increasingly cold, a chill seeping into her very bones.
The darkness amplified her anguish.
In the confines of her small apartment, memories of him surfaced unbidden at every turn. The overwhelming sense of suffocation was unbearable, and she yearned for nothing more than escape.
In a sudden moment of clarity, Layla seized her keys and bolted from the room.
Yet, once outside, Layla found herself aimlessly standing, uncertain of her destination.
She yearned to see him but had no inkling of his whereabouts.
His home? He had stated he wouldn't return there.
Taking a deep breath, she could only wander forward aimlessly as a light, cold rain began to fall
At the threshold of the esteemed M Restaurant, a significant encounter was taking place.
"Anthony, I do hope we'll have the chance to collaborate," the CEO of a prominent corporation expressed, his hands clasping Anthony's in a firm handshake. He bowed slightly, a spark of anticipation in his eyes as he reiterated, "I eagerly await your call."
"For sure," Anthony responded, returning the handshake with a polite, yet brief, grip before releasing his hand.
A sudden, crisp feminine voice cut through the air, "Anthony, what a stroke of luck!" Sophia Gabriel approached, her umbrella held aloft.
Sophia was a vision of elegance in her Dior suit, her hand gracefully clutching a Louis Vuitton bag. Her radiant appearance, poised and polished, turned many a male head.
"Sophia Gabriel," Anthony acknowledged.
"Please, just Sophia," she insisted, her heart fluttering with excitement. "I was dining with some friends and didn't anticipate crossing paths with you."
Yet, this was far from a chance encounter. Sophia had been patiently waiting for three hours. Accustomed to men waiting on her, this was the first time she had waited for a man. But Anthony was worth it. As the hours ticked by, she felt no impatience, only a growing sense of joy.
"Anthony, my car seems to have broken down. Might you be able to give me a lift home?" Sophia asked, hopeful.
Just as Anthony was about to respond, a peculiar figure in the crowd caught his eye.
While others sought shelter from the rain or huddled under umbrellas, a lone figure walked slowly through the downpour, no umbrella in sight. Each step seemed heavier than the last, her silhouette ghostly in the rain.
"Layla," Anthony murmured, taking a black umbrella from his assistant and rushing after her. He caught her from behind, calling her name again, "Layla."
Layla's hair was soaked, hanging heavily and dripping with rainwater. Strands clung to her face, framing her sunken, bloodshot eyes.
Anthony recoiled in shock. "Layla, what's happened?"
In a flurry of concern, he quickly shed his coat and wrapped it around her.
Layla's gaze was distant, her eyes reflecting the confusion of a lost child. She muttered to herself, "I... I need to find him... I miss him so much..."
"Who? Samuel?" Anthony asked, suspecting a quarrel.
"You're freezing; we need to get you changed."
"I don't want to, I need to see him."
"Samuel, Samuel..." Layla cried out, her body writhing in distress.
"Layla," Anthony called, but it was too late. Her eyes rolled back and she collapsed into unconsciousness.
"Layla!" Anthony scooped her up with urgency and strode towards his white sedan.
Sophia watched, her mouth agape.
Who was this woman? Why was Anthony so concerned about her?
She had always thought Anthony was indifferent and uninterested in women, yet he seemed deeply worried about the woman in his arms.
An ex-lover? Or the woman he loved?
Sophia couldn't decipher it, but one thing was clear: this woman posed a significant threat.
However, Sophia was a sensible woman. She knew better than to confront Anthony about this woman's identity. Doing so would only risk his disapproval.
So, with a bitter swallow of her anger and suspicion, she watched as Anthony, without so much as a glance in her direction, carried the woman named Layla into his car and drove away, leaving her behind.
...
At a nearby hotel, a waitress approached Anthony. "Sir, Layla has changed into her clothes," she informed him respectfully.
Only then did Anthony enter the room. Layla had changed into a clean nightgown and appeared to be asleep. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and she lay there quietly, a fragile figure that stirred a surge of protectiveness within him.
He reached out to touch her forehead, relieved to find she was fever-free.
He remembered vividly how, just a week ago, she had declared her happiness, her eyes sparkling with love and sweetness. It was that very sparkle that had made him step back. But now, in just a few short days, she had become so gaunt that Anthony wondered if Layla had gotten any rest at all.
"Samuel... don't leave me... I love you... Samuel..." In her sleep, Layla clutched at Anthony's hand, yet the name she sobbed was not his, but that of another man.