He Smiled at Her, I Packed to Leave

Chapter 4

His fingers brushed suggestively against the girl's wrist, where a delicate bracelet rested.

It was the same item listed on the receipt for a luxury purchase that Amaris had found in Stellan's suit pocket the previous week.

Amaris dug her fingernails deep into her palm.

Suddenly, the thick smoke from the fire six years before seemed to fill her throat again. A burning sensation spread from her vocal cords all the way down to her chest.

She saw herself at eighteen, rushing into the burning building, she saw Stellan pinned beneath a collapsing bookshelf, she saw the thick, choking clouds of smoke she had breathed in as she struggled to drag him free.

Before she fully realized what she was doing, Amaris had picked up a glass of water and hurled its contents straight into his face.

Annika gasped in surprise.

Droplets ran down Stellan's eyelashes and left dark, spreading stains across his expensive suit.

He blinked, and the haze of alcohol seemed to clear just a little. His gaze shifted from Annika to Amaris' trembling hands.

"Amaris…"

He reached out to touch her, but she pulled away sharply.

Annika wiped the water from his face with a paper napkin and spoke quickly.

"Mr. Blackwood, you've had far too much to drink today. Please, just rest for now."

A moment later came the sound of the front door closing, leaving only the two of them in the room.

The scent of cologne rising from Stellan made Amaris' nose burn.

She lifted her shaking hand, and her fingers traced jagged, broken shapes through the air.

"Stellan Blackwood, do you still love me? Do you remember the things you used to say to me? Do you remember the promises you made to me at our wedding?"

Her hand movements grew faster and faster, like a trapped butterfly beating its wings wildly against glass.

He frowned.

Alcohol had already worn down his patience, and he rubbed his temple with an impatient gesture.

"Amaris, when did you become so unreasonable?" He reached out, grabbed the crystal ashtray from the coffee table, and slammed it hard against the wall.

Shards of glass scattered across the floor.

"Six years, Amaris!" Stellan shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "Six whole years I've lived like a man paying for his sins! I've hired the best doctors money can buy, canceled every social engagement to stay with you, and even joined work meetings by video just so I could keep an eye on you!"

He took an unsteady step toward her, his bloodshot eyes locked on hers.

"Do you want me to cut open my chest and pull my heart out just to prove how I feel?" he demanded hoarsely. "Do you think you are the only one suffering?"

He stumbled closer, and the sharp smell of liquor washed over her face.

"Every time I see you sign," he continued, his voice trembling, "Every time I hear that strained, breathless sound you make, I wish more than anything I could go back to that day and take your place in the fire!"

Those words struck Amaris like a blade driven straight into her heart. Pieces of the broken ashtray glinted on the floor.

Amaris looked down at the glass shards around her bare feet, several had already pierced the skin of her sole, yet she felt no pain at all.

This man, shouting and out of control, blurred and shifted in her mind against the memory of the person who had once shielded her from the flames.

Five years earlier, Stellan's business had just begun and was on the brink of collapse, its funding nearly exhausted.

Back then, he would smoke cigarette after cigarette through the night, his eyes red-rimmed and weary, yet he would still force a smile whenever he turned to her.

"It's all right. I'll find a way through this."

But she knew better than anyone else that he had no way out. And so, even with her throat still raw and healing, she went out and drank glass after glass of strong spirits.

The head of the partner company had smiled and said, "Mrs. Blackwood, your voice is in such bad shape... can you really keep drinking?"

She had nodded, lifted her glass, and drained it in one go. The alcohol burned like fire down her throat, and the pain was so intense it nearly stopped her breath.

But she kept smiling, and kept drinking, until finally the man agreed to terms and signed the contract. Three days later, she lay in a hospital bed while the doctor shook his head.

"The vocal cords have sustained permanent damage. There is no chance of recovery."

In the years that followed, Stellan's business grew and flourished. He became a rising star in the business world, always well-dressed, confident, and successful.

And she remained quietly at his side, living as a wife who could no longer speak.

Many people looked at them with envy. They said that even though she had lost her voice, Stellan Blackwood, handsome, wealthy, and sought after, remained devoted only to her.

But the truth was far different...

Stellan was having an affair.