I Left, He Realized He Loved Me

Chapter 2

Reid found out I was dead from Mr. Brooks.

"They used Mr. Blake's phone to call you over a dozen times, but you never answered. They had no choice but to reach out to me in the end."

Reid sat in the back of his Rolls-Royce, casually sorting through the papers in his hands.

His expression was cold as ice.

"He didn't have anyone else to call."

Yeah.

Even if I got that hefty sum for the surgery back then, my little sister still didn't make it.

Ever since then, the only people in this world who still had any connection to me were Mr. Stone and Mr. Brooks.

"I feel so sorry for Mr. Blake..." Mr. Brooks started, then shut his mouth when he realized Reid wasn't reacting.

He let out a sigh.

Sitting right next to Mr. Stone, I couldn't read a thing behind those dark lashes of his. Maybe there was nothing there at all.

No. Scratch that. There was definitely nothing there.

After all, Mr. Stone had said it himself. He didn't do feelings.

"Would you like to view the remains?" A doctor walked past me, reaching for the white sheet over my face.

"No, thanks." Reid's voice cut him off.

He glanced at the sheet covering me, then turned to the doctor. "Any personal effects?"

The doctor seemed frozen by Reid's tone, and took a beat before managing a single word. "Yeah."

He handed Reid my phone in a sealed bag.

I could see the screen shattered into a web of cracks.

Reid took it, ran his thumb over the broken glass, and frowned.

I knew it wasn't because of the lock screen, that photo of us together.

It was because the jagged edges cut his fingertip.

He always liked things clean and tidy.

And my phone was a wreck, with blood and dirt packed into every c***k.

Sure enough, the next second, he pulled out his trusty wet wipe, wiping the grime off my phone with a blank face.

Only after every speck of dust was gone from that shattered screen did he wrap it in a handkerchief and tuck it into his pocket.

"And this too." The doctor held out my thermos to Reid.

Reid's eyes lingered on it for a moment. Then he looked at Mr. Brooks.

Mr. Brooks's eyes were still red, and his voice a little raspy. "Mr. Blake made that soup for you. He thought your ulcer was acting up and you were in the hospital."

I watched Mr. Stone lower his gaze and take the thermos, saying flatly, "Yeah. He called me."

Eighteen calls. None got through.

On the drive back to the estate, Reid kept that thermos right in front of him.

Somehow, underneath those cold eyes, there was something I couldn't quite read.