A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 296

Break up?

"Could you really bear to walk away?" Huxley asked, his tone dripping with condescension.

Just how deep was this girl’s devotion? He remembered the exact day they met at Kingsbridge General Hospital. They had both been admitted for injuries. He had been spiraling in a severe depression because Rhea had married someone else, drinking too much and accidentally hurting himself. Quinn had been transferred in from out of town after a vicious dog attack.

Given that she needed a hospital transfer, her injuries were severe, and the medical bills were astronomically high. The nurses had hounded her three times a day, screaming down the hall that they were going to cut off her medication if she didn't pay.

And what had Quinn done? She just cried. She was broke, terrified, and utterly alone in that hospital bed. She was incredibly weak. To him, a woman who only knew how to cry when things got tough was a woman who would always be hopelessly dependent.

Seeing shades of Rhea’s vulnerability in her, he casually paid her $200,000 medical bill.

The moment her financial crisis was solved, Quinn had looked at him like he was the second coming. She saw him as her absolute savior.

When he was discharged, he had merely left his phone number. He didn't have to put in an ounce of effort, and she threw herself at him. There was no grand confession, no getting down on one knee, no meeting the parents—none of the usual hoops a man had to jump through to court a woman. She was just blindly, unconditionally devoted to making him the center of her universe.

He ran a gaming company and kept horrific hours. Quinn, using her medical background, obsessed over his health. She made custom aromatherapy blends to help him sleep, brewed herbal teas to balance his system in the summer, cooked restorative broths in the fall, and gave him deep-tissue massages in the winter. When he stayed up so late his neck seized up, she would wake up in the middle of the night to perform acupuncture on him. When he came home black-out drunk, she would bathe him, brew him hangover remedies, and sit awake all night just to make sure he didn't choke in his sleep.

Her love for him was fueled by an inferiority complex that made her try impossibly hard, and that effort bordered on fanaticism. She relied on him like she relied on oxygen. Without him, she wouldn't survive.

So, hearing her say she wanted to break up? It was laughable.

He didn't even wait for her to answer. He rolled over and closed his eyes, entirely uninterested in humoring her.

Quinn stood rigidly by the bed. Her voice was quiet, yet entirely resolute. "Yes. I can."

Huxley scoffed internally. Her voice was so fragile it sounded like it would shatter in the wind, yet she claimed she could leave? Hilarious.

She started moving around the room, opening drawers and unzipping her suitcase.

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