I Walked Away And He Lost His Mind (Zephyra and Steven) novel Chapter 498

The agent turned and walked away.

I pursed my lips and entered the room.

There was only one bed in the hotel room. Horace set down my suitcase and turned to look at me.

After some hesitation, I said, “Horace, maybe we should sleep in separate rooms.”

Before we got together, we were close friends, but not to the point of sharing a bed. Now that our relationship had progressed, I… I still wasn't ready to take that step with him.

Horace’s eyes darkened for a moment, but he smiled and ruffled my hair, his light tone masking his disappointment.

“Don’t listen to George’s nonsense. I know you’re not used to having me around yet, so I already got the room next door. If you need anything, just call out, and I’ll be right here.”

I looked at him and nodded, my mind heavy with thoughts. But I was also grateful. It was Horace, after all. He never made me feel uncomfortable.

Horace took his key card and left, the smile fading from his lips as the door closed.

…

Perhaps because the last few days had been so tense, I collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep, hazy sleep, and I began to dream.

I used to have many fragmented dreams about my past life, but this time, I only dreamed of when I had cancer.

I had stomach cancer, and Verna was the attending physician in the gastroenterology department. She was young and already highly acclaimed. Although I had never met her, in my final days, I often heard people talking about how brilliant she was, how adored she was by medical students, and how she and Steven were such a perfect, loving couple.

Maybe they were right. The unloved one is the third wheel. I was the home-wrecker, so this was my punishment.

To make his beautiful lady smile, Steven could mobilize countless resources. Unlike a pathetic admirer like me, who used to orbit around him constantly. We lived under the same roof, so close, yet I could never make him smile. And still, I refused to let go and let him be with his first love.

Steven didn't even believe I was seriously ill; he thought I was just being dramatic. All I could do was offer a faint, sad smile and check myself into the hospital alone, running on sheer willpower.

I often sat by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the heavy snow fall and weigh down the bare branches, watching them struggle to survive.

Unlike Verna, who had all sorts of gifts prepared for her, I saw no flowers and smelled no fragrance.

When I was healthy, it was a struggle just to get a bowl of soup from him. How could I ever expect him to be extravagant for me, to shower me with affection the way he did for Verna?