Countdown to "I Do" novel Chapter 22

22 /24

**Midnight Roads Unseen by George Orwell**
**Chapter 22**

Adrian couldn’t fathom how he would react if he were in Isabella’s shoes. The thought gnawed at him, an unsettling reminder that love, no matter how passionate, could fray and fade under the weight of betrayal and hurt. Deep down, he knew that even the strongest of feelings could be eroded over time, leaving nothing but a hollow shell behind.

Yet, today, he found himself clinging to a fleeting hope, a misguided belief that a few lighthearted apologies could somehow bridge the chasm between them. What was he thinking?

Isabella, on the other hand, found the entire situation dripping with irony. It was almost laughable, the way he believed that his apologies could undo the scars she carried, both emotionally and physically. No amount of suffering he endured for her would ever come close to compensating for the torment she had faced.

“Jared, don’t worry. For the rest of my life, I’ll only have you,” she declared, her voice steady but her heart trembling.

In that moment, she wrapped her arms around Jared, a gesture that was as much for him as it was for herself, seeking solace in his presence.

Jared returned her embrace, his voice filled with conviction. “Okay, we’ll be together forever!”

As the bodyguards moved to clear away the remnants of the chaotic scene outside, restoring the villa to its former state, Jared led Isabella home.

But the dawn brought with it an unwelcome sight. Adrian, the man who should have been sent away, was back, kneeling in the relentless rain outside their villa.

There he was, a pitiful figure, stubbornly waiting for Isabella, refusing to budge despite the efforts of those around him.

His injuries, untreated and raw, painted a grim picture. The dark bruises on his body were a stark reminder of his pain, and the sight was almost haunting.

“Isabella, I’m sorry! I was wrong…” His voice, hoarse and desperate, echoed through the downpour, each repetition a plea that seemed to hang in the air like a heavy fog.

He continued, his cries blending with the sound of the rain, a relentless torrent that drummed against his skin. The old injury on his leg throbbed painfully, and he could feel the color draining from his face, leaving him pale and shaky.

With each passing moment, he swayed, his body betraying him, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

But Isabella stood by, watching the scene unfold with a cold detachment that surprised even her. It was as if she were an audience member at a play, completely unaffected by the drama playing out before her.

“How ridiculous,” she thought, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “He’s resorting to self-pity tactics now. Does he genuinely believe I’ll feel sorry for him?”

To her, Adrian’s struggles were his own. “His body is his own. Even if he dies, it has nothing to do with me.”

With that thought firmly planted in her mind, Isabella turned away, her attention shifting to Jared, who was busy in the kitchen. She leaned in, offering to help him, their laughter ringing through the air like music.