Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 567

Only Liam was by Brett's side now, tasked with managing his diet, daily routine, and treatment.

Outwardly, everything seemed normal, but in truth, his lungs were beyond repair. Sometimes, when he looked at the X-ray images, he couldn't help but wonder how a person's lungs could become so hideously unrecognizable.

Liam tried his best to keep the news of Izabella's wedding from Brett, but Brett found out anyway.

That was the thing about him – although he kept saying he'd moved on, he couldn't help snooping for tidbits about her.

Yet, Brett appeared indifferent, eating and drinking as usual, as if he didn't care at all.

Initially, Liam thought he really had let go.

That illusion shattered when Brett, in a fit of pain, fainted and mumbled Izabella's name in a delirious state, revealing he'd never stopped caring for a moment.

"Izabella," he'd whimper in agony, his voice laced with grievance and a cry.

When he woke up, Brett acted as if he'd forgotten he'd called out for Izabella.

Liam asked him, "President Windham, have you truly let go?"

"What are you talking about? I've moved on a long time ago," Brett replied with a nonchalant smile.

But once Liam left, Brett stared blankly out the window at the barren branches, as though his soul had fled. What was unattainable would forever remain so, and what was gone would never return. Izabella had taught him how to love and be loved, but also a harsh truth: not every unrequited love finds an echo.

Like a mirror shattered, not everything could be mended to its former state.

Liam often asked, "Does it hurt?"

Yes, it did. Not the lungs, but the heart.

The pain surged violently, as if a blade was repeatedly stabbing him from inside out, as if a rope was tightly wound and pulling taut, causing spasms that felt like his chest would split open. It was as if ants were gnawing away, dragging him into an endless abyss.

Beyond the torment of his illness, insomnia inflicted its own agony, depriving him of sleep through the long nights.

In frustration, he slapped himself twice, the sound echoing eerily in the quiet night, the sting numbing his palms and face. It took moments for the numbness to reach his brain, his ears ringing.

Slap!

Brett hit himself again, cursing while seemingly immune to the pain.

"You deserve it! You squandered her love!"

Slap!

"What right do you have to hurt?"

Slap!

"She doesn't want you anymore. What's the point in missing her so deeply? She was already too good to you."

Slap!

His late-found deep affection was less than worthless, not even on par with gutter maggots.

"She's married now, to someone else. She doesn't want me," Brett muttered as he clutched his chest, the fabric of his shirt twisted in his fist, sobbing uncontrollably and retching from the pain, crying for the first time until he could hardly breathe.

He recalled Izabella's words that even when they had gotten their marriage certificate, he hadn't reacted as strongly as he did at the sight of her wedding. Only then did he understand the meaning of the old adage: "Parting ways leads to happiness for both parties. Live safe and well, and they would not meet again."

He was far from happy.

The day of Izabella's wedding arrived quickly, dominating the headlines and social media, with every outlet vying to spread the news far and wide.

When Brett turned on his phone, he saw the notifications but didn't click through.

He wanted to see her one last time, but he knew he had no right. To Izabella, what was he?

The most familiar stranger, a lifelong adversary. Their relationship was as distant as it was close – ex-husband and ex-wife.

He was acutely aware of the circumstances of their divorce; he had traded Izabella for Kaley's safety. He knew how much pain and suffering Izabella had endured to get to where she was today.