Love Died, I Left

Chapter 4

A sharp look crossed Dominic's face. He shoved me aside with tremendous force and dashed toward the living room. His push was so forceful that my side slammed into a potted cactus on the side table. The sharp spines pierced my skin, and the intense pain brought out a cold sweat.

Before I could even inspect my wounds, Dominic's furious roar echoed through the house. "Get the first aid kit! Hurry up!"

I rushed to the living room, only to see the matching couple's bowls Dominic and I had made at a pottery shop years ago shattered into pieces on the floor.

Celeste looked up at me, her eyes welling with tears. "Seraphina, I didn't mean to..." A shallow, bleeding scratch was clearly visible on the palm of her right hand.

Dominic quickly comforted her. "Okay, be a good girl. They're just two bowls, it doesn't matter." He then turned to me, his tone growing even more impatient as he urged, "Hurry up! What are you standing there for!"

Without a word, I silently fetched the first aid kit and brought it over. As I stepped closer, the light caught the scratch marks on my face and arm left by the cactus spines.

Dominic seemed to freeze for a moment, a flicker of remorse crossing his eyes. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He snatched the kit from my hands and began carefully bandaging Celeste's wound.

Then, without even looking up, he ordered, "Celeste isn't feeling well. Go make her a bowl of hangover soup."

I clenched my hands tightly, forcing down the surging emotions in my chest, and turned toward the kitchen.

In the past, we used to take turns entertaining clients, often drinking until dawn just to secure a deal. But we would always thoughtfully prepare a bowl of hangover soup for each other.

He once told me, "Seraphina, you often make me feel like I don't deserve you. The only way I can live up to your devotion is by loving you even more."

Thinking back to those words, I couldn't help but let out a self-deprecating laugh.

Turning off the stove, I picked up the bowl and walked into the living room. But they were nowhere to be seen. The only sign of them was a warm spill of light seeping from the guest bedroom.

I couldn't stop myself from walking over. The door was left ajar. Inside, the two of them were tangled together on the soft daybed, their clothes discarded all over the floor. Dominic was cupping Celeste's face, kissing her inch by inch. Their heavy breathing was filled with poorly concealed heat and passion.

I watched in silence, like a lifeless doll. Whether Dominic's goal was to provoke me, disgust me, or something else entirely, I no longer cared to figure it out.

As I turned to head back to my room, I tripped over the scattered shards of porcelain. Unable to catch myself in time, my palm slammed into the jagged pieces, tearing deep into my flesh as blood spilled across the floor.

In the mirror nearby, the battered, broken doll smiled silently. She didn't even know which hurt more—her wounds, or her heart.

I picked myself up and returned to my room, sitting in silence for a long time. Eventually, the noises from the guest bedroom died down, replaced by Dominic's gentle murmurs.

"Did I hurt you just now? I'll be gentler next time. Be a good girl and go to sleep. We have important things to do tomorrow."

As the light in the guest bedroom turned off, he walked out, shirtless. In the dim, hazy darkness, we stared at each other in silence.

After a long moment, he poured himself a glass of water and slowly walked into the room, taking sips along the way. "I let you watch a steamy show for free. How was it?"

There was a clear smile on his lips, yet for some reason, I felt a sudden shiver run down my spine. "Dominic, you really disgust me!"

He took a large stride forward and tightly grabbed my wrist. "Disgust you? Seraphina, don't think I don't know—even if you watch me sleep with another woman, you still can't bear to leave! You're just a stray dog that won't go away no matter how hard I kick it!"

His words hit the mark, and my tears flowed endlessly. If this were a romance novel, a protagonist like me would surely be despised by everyone. But I was just that pathetic. Even when he brought Celeste right in front of me to flaunt his affair, I didn't even have the courage to tear him apart.

I struggled desperately. "Let me go!"

But a fire seemed to blaze in his eyes, and his grip turned even rougher. "You think I'm disgusting! Then I'll show you just how disgusting I can be!"