He Left Me Waiting, I Left Him Forever

Chapter 3

At three in the afternoon, the doorbell of my luxury apartment started ringing so violently that it practically shook the walls, and when I glanced at the security monitor, I could see Arthur's grim, scowling face, with Leah standing right next to him, her eyes all red and swollen from crying.

The instant I pulled the door open, Arthur barged straight in, carrying a dainty pink cake box in his hand, and grilling me before he had even made it past the entrance. "Vivienne, what on earth was that crazy message you sent on i********: today?"

And then, as he strode further into the room, he went on, "Leah only tried on your wedding dress. Did you really have to wish her dead over that?"

Leah slipped in behind him like a pitiful little shadow, hiding herself in his back and tugging at his sleeve as she sobbed, "Vivienne, I am so sorry. I did not realize that dress meant so much to you. I just thought it was beautiful. I will have the store clean it right away and send it back to you."

I did not move from the entryway, just stood there with my arms crossed and looked at them both with cold, unwavering eyes, and said, "Do not bother washing it. I find it disgusting to wear anything that has already been worn by someone else, and that goes for clothes, and that goes for men too."

Arthur had already made his way into the dining room when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and spun around, his face instantly turning an ashen, furious grey, and he slammed the pink cake box onto the table.

"Vivienne, have you not had enough of this?" he demanded. "Leah canceled her plans with her friends today just so she could apologize to you, and she spent all that time baking your favorite dessert with her own hands. Do you really have to push everyone away with that sharp, cutting attitude of yours?"

He tore the box open roughly, cut off a large slice, and shoved it right in front of me, adding, "She even burned her fingers making this for you. Now eat the cake, say sorry to Leah, and let's call this whole thing done."

I looked down at the slice, which gave off a faint scent of hazelnut.

I had a severe nut allergy that Arthur had known about ever since we first met. I had once accidentally eaten a peanut and ended up in the ICU.

I lifted my head, held his gaze without flinching, and asked, "Arthur, are you absolutely sure you want me to eat this cake?"

Arthur's brows knitted together into a deep frown, and the way he stared back at me made it clear he thought I was nothing but an unreasonable woman who was making a fuss over nothing. He shot back, "What kind of game are you trying to play now? It is just a piece of cake, and it is a thoughtful gesture from Leah."

Leah, as if on cue, let a few tears well up in her eyes and said, "Vivienne, I spent the whole morning baking this. If you will not even take a bite, that means you still have not forgiven me."

Arthur softened his tone just slightly, but the familiar edge of command never quite left his voice as he said, "Just have one bite. Consider it accepting her apology. Will you please stop putting me in the middle like this?"

I barely had a second to wonder whether he even realized that hazelnut powder had been mixed into that cake before he brought the slice right up to my lips, and a smear of cream ended up on the corner of my mouth.

Almost instantly, my throat began to tighten, and that all-too-familiar, suffocating sensation came rushing back like a tide I could not stop.

I shoved him away with all the strength I had, grabbed at my throat, and tried to gulp down air in huge, desperate breaths because my windpipe felt as though an invisible hand had closed around it and the swelling was spreading fast.

I sank onto the carpet in agony, and dark spots started to blur my vision as the lack of oxygen began to take hold.

Arthur's brows knitted together into a deep, cold frown, and he stared down at me with a cold, hard look, saying, "Vivienne, your allergy history was only ever about peanuts. This is hazelnut. Since when did you learn to pull these little attention-seeking tricks?"

When he saw me curled up on the carpet, a flicker of panic crossed his face, and he moved to reach for me, but before he could even touch me, Leah, however, let out a sharp scream from the side, calling out, "Arthur!" as if she had been absolutely terrified by my painful, convulsing state.

She shrank back, pressing herself behind him with one hand over her mouth, and her voice trembled as she choked out, "I am so sorry. Maybe I should never have come today. This is all my fault."

"This is not your fault, Leah," Arthur said as he spun around immediately and pulled the startled Leah into his arms, whispering soft, reassuring words to calm her down.

When he turned his head back to look at me, still writhing and struggling for air on the floor, his eyes had gone cold and hard, as if he were staring at nothing more than an irrational, impossible lunatic, and he said, "Since your health is clearly so fragile, we will just have the wedding here. Leah has her birthday party in two weeks, and dragging her to another city would be too much trouble for her."

I forced myself to endure the suffocating grip of my throat closing up, kept my eyes fixed on him, and managed to push out a few broken, barely audible words through my clenched teeth. "Arthur... the wedding is off. We are done."

Arthur froze for a second, and then his face twisted in anger as he snapped back, "Wow, really? Drama Queen."

He yanked at his tie with visible irritation, looking down on me as I lay curled on the floor, and his eyes were full of nothing but pure disgust when he said, "Vivienne, you are absolutely unbelievable! You would rather fake an allergic reaction and threaten to cancel the wedding than simply apologize to Leah?"

At that very moment, Leah, who could not have picked a better time if she had rehearsed it, covered her face and broke down into a fresh round of uncontrollable sobs. "Arthur, please take me away. I am begging you," she sobbed. "I just cannot stand this suffocating atmosphere anymore. Maybe I really should not even exist."

"It is not your fault, Leah," he said. "She is the one who needs a psychiatrist." With that, he walked out and left me on the floor, slipping into shock, with Leah tucked protectively under his arm, and he slammed the door so hard behind him that the echo of it rattled through the empty apartment.

I lay there on the carpet, my hands and feet already starting to grow cold as my awareness drifted further and further away, and I was beginning to think that this absurd afternoon might actually be the end of me, when the door suddenly burst open again.

Just as my consciousness was about to slip away completely, a pair of expensive, custom-made alligator leather shoes came to a stop right at the edge of my blurry vision.

I heard a man who looked like a bodyguard report, "Mr. Sterling, the patient is going into severe anaphylactic shock."

Strong arms lifted me off the floor, and the faint, clean scent of cedar mixed with an overwhelming, commanding masculine presence wrapped itself around me, while a low, icy voice spoke from above in a tone that allowed no argument whatsoever, "Take her to the VIP emergency room at St. Mary's Hospital."