Countdown to "I Do" novel Chapter 13

**Midnight Roads Unseen by George Orwell**

**Chapter 13**

Mrs. Peterson didn’t dwell on the matter for long. After carefully preparing a pot of Beef Consommé, she made her way to Adrian’s room, the rich aroma wafting through the air. The warmth of the broth seemed to promise comfort, but as she set the bowl before him, a sense of foreboding crept into her heart.

Adrian took a tentative spoonful, the liquid sliding across his tongue. But as soon as the slightly greasy taste settled in his stomach, his appetite evaporated like mist in the morning sun. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he grimaced.

“This doesn’t taste right,” he muttered, his voice low but laced with disappointment.

With a grimace that reflected his frustration, Adrian slammed the bowl down onto the table, the crash echoing in the quiet room. The sound reverberated through the air, and Mrs. Peterson and the butler exchanged anxious glances, their expressions a mixture of concern and fear.

“Adrian, I followed Isabella’s recipe to the letter. I truly tried my best,” Mrs. Peterson stammered, her voice shaky, the threat of losing her job hanging heavily in the air.

Adrian’s frown deepened as he pushed his chair back and stormed into the kitchen, his mind racing. He recalled the steps Isabella had taught him, the way she had effortlessly guided him through the culinary process.

“No! No! None of this is right!” he shouted, his voice rising in pitch, frustration boiling over.

He began smashing bowls one after another, the sound of shattering pottery punctuating his growing rage. The ingredients were the same, the method unchanged, yet the taste eluded him.

Could it be that Isabella’s absence was the reason for this culinary failure?

The thought spiraled in his mind, feeding his anger, until he was overwhelmed, and in a fit of rage, he unleashed his fury on everything in the kitchen.

“Not having Isabella around doesn’t affect me at all! I only love Ella!” he yelled, his bloodshot eyes reflecting a tumult of emotions. He repeated the words like a mantra, trying desperately to convince himself, but deep down, doubt gnawed at him.

After what felt like hours of chaos, he felt the need to escape, to numb his tumultuous thoughts. He jumped into his car and drove straight to the office, where a mountain of work awaited him, the demands of the job offering a temporary distraction from the storm within.

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12:18

For days on end, Adrian found himself practically living at the office. The walls, once familiar and comforting, now felt cold and unwelcoming. Isabella’s departure had left an indelible mark, and the atmosphere at the company was palpably different.

Projects that once flowed smoothly now stumbled and faltered, and the camaraderie that had characterized the workplace had dissipated. Tension filled the air, and arguments erupted with alarming frequency, each clash a reminder of the void left by Isabella’s absence.

As a result, Adrian’s own mental state began to deteriorate.

Smack!

In the conference room, his dark expression was a storm cloud ready to burst. He slammed a proposal down on the table with such force that papers flew into the air like startled birds.

“Is this how you’re managing the national park partnership project?” he barked, his voice booming with authority. “If the next proposal you submit is at this level, then I suggest you start looking for new jobs!”

The weather mirrored his melancholy, gloomy clouds hanging low in the sky for days on end.

Years prior, an accident had left his legs crippled, but thanks to Isabella’s determination, a renowned doctor had helped him regain some semblance of mobility. Yet, they were never quite the same.

Now, as the weather turned sour, the dull ache in his legs flared into sharp, unbearable pain.

“Ugh…” he groaned, shifting his leg in a futile attempt to find relief, but the discomfort only intensified.

“Isabella…” he whispered, her name barely escaping his lips, a soft lament filled with longing. Memories of her gentle hands massaging his legs during therapy flooded his mind, a bittersweet reminder of her presence.

But now, she was gone, and she had made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him.

Everything around him felt chaotic, and even the smallest annoyance sent him spiraling.

The bipolar disorder that Isabella had helped him manage was rearing its ugly head once more, a relentless tide threatening to drown him.

In that moment of clarity, Adrian realized the painful truth: it was never Isabella who couldn’t leave him; it was he who couldn’t let her go.

Without her, his life felt like a tangled mess, and nothing seemed to fit together anymore.