Love You Enough to Leave You

Chapter 866

When Oscar woke up and saw Isabella staring at him intently, mirth bubbled within him. “What's wrong? You're looking at me as though I'm going to leave.”

Leaning against his shoulder, Isabella whined aggrievedly, “I'm scared Amelia will steal you from me as she's always hounding you. After all, she's beautiful and gave birth to Tony for you. The two of you have a child linking you together while I merely love you silently without any title.”

Oscar hugged her close to him, murmuring apologetically, “I'm sorry I made you feel insecure. Don't worry, for I'll take care of everything.”

A flash of something dark flittered across Isabella's eyes. Taking things further, she ventured, “Will you marry me, Oscar?”

Oscar instinctively wanted to answer in the affirmative, but Amelia's voice and smile inexplicably flashed across his mind. He shook his head, feeling that he shouldn't be reacting in such a manner.

Isabella's heart clenched. She lifted her head and looked at him before hanging her head. “Do you not want to marry me, Oscar?”

Patting her face, Oscar coaxed, “Don't think so much. Let's go upstairs.”

After saying that, he swung open the car door and alighted from the car.

Isabella followed suit. As she gazed at his back ahead of her, the look in her eyes was exceedingly complex. She bit her lip hard.

“What's wrong, Isabella?” Oscar turned and queried, halting in his tracks.

Putting a smile on her face, Isabella quickened her pace and caught up with him. Taking his arm, she fibbed, “I was just studying your back, only to find you exceptionally handsome all of a sudden, so I wondered how I got such a good-looking boyfriend.”

In response, Oscar merely chuckled.

When they arrived back at the condominium, he glanced around at the familiar interior design before pinning his eyes on Isabella beside him. He couldn't help asking, “Did you really live here in the past, Isabella?”

In a flash, Isabella's heart lodged in her throat. Jerking her head up, she questioned, “What do you mean by that, Oscar? Does this not look like our love nest?”

Oscar shook his head, explaining, “Don't think too much. I merely feel that you won't like such a cozy design, considering your style. Besides, I can't shake off the feeling that the mistress of this place is someone else.”

Isabella's hands balled into fists. But in the next instant, she slowly unclenched them.

“That was really hurtful, Oscar. Could it be that you brought some other woman back here without my knowledge that you're saying the mistress of this place is someone else? Spit it out, quick. Otherwise, I'll be teaching you a lesson.”

Trying to scare him, she pretended to bare her teeth and curve her fingers into claws.

Oscar scrutinized her hard, his brows creasing imperceptibly. Verily, he found her all too different from his impression of her in his memories.

“How did you joke around with me in the past, Isabella?” he inquired in a seemingly nonchalant manner.

Again, Isabella's heart lodged in her throat. She was initially feeling guilty in the first place, afraid that the man would realize something amiss, so she was all panicked following that question.

“Why are you asking, Oscar?” she ventured guiltily.

Reaching out, Oscar pulled her into his arms and tapped the tip of her nose. “I was merely asking casually, but you're acting all guilty. Did you do something bad behind my back?”

Isabella felt even guiltier then, but she tried acting coquettish by countering, “I'll really be heartbroken if you doubt me when I love you so much, Oscar.”

Oscar stroked her hair gently with a smile curving his lips, putting on a front of being in a great mood. However, the sense of dissonance within him intensified. A voice kept telling him that someone else was the mistress of the house. Yet, the woman in his memories was undeniably Isabella.

In his memories, Isabella was sweet, independent, strong, and kind. She would hug him from behind in the red glow of the setting sun and rub her cheek against his back like a lazy kitten, very much adorable.

The Isabella in his arms, though perfectly fine, created a sense of dissonance within him. No matter what, he couldn't open his heart to her.

He felt a sense of discordance, but he couldn't exactly put his finger on it.

When Isabella lifted her eyes and met his probing gaze, her heart jolted, fearful that he would notice something off.

An idea occurred to her, upon which she suggested, “Let's tidy the house together, Oscar.”

Just when they were about to get to their feet, the sound of a key turning in the lock sounded from outside the door. They both swung their gazes over in concert, only to see Molly opening the door and entering the house.

Molly carried a bunch of groceries. Puzzlement swamped her the instant she spotted the woman who shouldn't be in the house. But still, she commented politely, “Where's Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Anthony, Mr. Clinton? And why is Ms. Walker here? I remember you didn't quite welcome her here in the past.”

Isabella shot daggers at her. Argh! I considered everything, but I forgot that there's still Molly, who comes over to help with the chores!

Frowning, Oscar clarified, “Who's Mrs. Clinton, Molly? And didn't Isabella live here in the past?”

As though having heard something utterly incredulous, Molly asked worriedly, “Are you okay, Mr. Clinton? This is your house with Mrs. Clinton, and the renovation was all handled by Mrs. Clinton alone. What has it got to do with Ms. Walker here?”

“How could you twist the truth in front of Oscar when I've been so nice to you, Molly?” Isabella barked.

Molly threw a look at her as though she was a lunatic. Then, she shifted her gaze to Oscar and pressed, “Mr. Clinton, where's Mrs. Clinton? I only went home to visit my grandchild for three days. Why does it seem as though the mistress here has changed? It was your mother who sent me here to serve you both, so I won't do anything to betray Mrs. Clinton.”

The furrow of Oscar's brows deepened.

“Molly, Amelia is a scheming woman who's cruel beyond words. Conversely, Isabella treats you incredibly well. Shouldn't you like her more?” he mused in perplexity.

Verily, he couldn't shake off the feeling that the reality was too different from his memories.

“What are you saying, Mr. Clinton? Have you been bewitched?” Molly fretted with her eyes trained on him.

Stepping in front of Oscar, Isabella urged anxiously, “Kick her out, Oscar. Amelia sent her here to drive a wedge in our relationship. Let's not have her serve us. It was because of her that our relationship fractured.”

In consideration of her agitated expression, Oscar could only wave a hand and dismiss Molly.

Molly was wholly bewildered, but at the end of the day, she was just the help. Thus, she left after placing the groceries in the refrigerator.

When she had gone downstairs, she gave Amelia a call.

Amelia explained the situation to her before advising her to go back to the Clinton residence to help out first and avoid going to the condominium for the time being.

“Does Mr. Clinton really not remember anything at all, Mrs. Clinton? What are you and Mr. Anthony going to do, then?” Molly queried urgently.

With a bitter smile, Amelia replied, “Don't worry, Molly. I'm planning to go abroad with Tony. Help me take care of Oscar in the future.”

“Mrs. Clinton, it's evident that Mr. Clinton got duped by that woman. Are you not planning to bother about him anymore that you're going abroad at this time?”

“As you saw, Molly, he doesn't remember me anymore. Staying here will only make me loathsome.” Sighing softly, Amelia entreated, “Please take good care of Oscar while I'm away, Molly. All right, I'll be hanging up.”

Similarly, Molly soundlessly heaved a sigh after hanging up the phone.

I only went home for a few days, yet everything has changed.

She shook her head, but she had no choice but to return to the Clinton residence.

“What's wrong, Babe? Who called?” Tiffany inquired as she came over with a cup of milkshake.

“It was Molly. She saw Oscar and Isabella in the house when she returned. That aside, she was even

kicked out by the latter. She was at a loss, so she phoned me. I explained the situation to her to save her from being in the dark,” Amelia answered casually. She acted indifferently as though she didn't care, but a flash of sorrow flashed across her eyes. When Oscor woke up ond sow Isobello storing ot him intently, mirth bubbled within him. “Whot's wrong? You're looking ot me os though I'm going to leove.”

Leoning ogoinst his shoulder, Isobello whined oggrievedly, “I'm scored Amelio will steol you from me os she's olwoys hounding you. After oll, she's beoutiful ond gove birth to Tony for you. The two of you hove o child linking you together while I merely love you silently without ony title.”

Oscor hugged her close to him, murmuring opologeticolly, “I'm sorry I mode you feel insecure. Don't worry, for I'll toke core of everything.”

A flosh of something dork flittered ocross Isobello's eyes. Toking things further, she ventured, “Will you morry me, Oscor?”

Oscor instinctively wonted to onswer in the offirmotive, but Amelio's voice ond smile inexplicobly floshed ocross his mind. He shook his heod, feeling thot he shouldn't be reocting in such o monner.

Isobello's heort clenched. She lifted her heod ond looked ot him before honging her heod. “Do you not wont to morry me, Oscor?”

Potting her foce, Oscor cooxed, “Don't think so much. Let's go upstoirs.”

After soying thot, he swung open the cor door ond olighted from the cor.

Isobello followed suit. As she gozed ot his bock oheod of her, the look in her eyes wos exceedingly complex. She bit her lip hord.

“Whot's wrong, Isobello?” Oscor turned ond queried, holting in his trocks.

Putting o smile on her foce, Isobello quickened her poce ond cought up with him. Toking his orm, she fibbed, “I wos just studying your bock, only to find you exceptionolly hondsome oll of o sudden, so I wondered how I got such o good-looking boyfriend.”

In response, Oscor merely chuckled.

When they orrived bock ot the condominium, he glonced oround ot the fomilior interior design before pinning his eyes on Isobello beside him. He couldn't help osking, “Did you reolly live here in the post, Isobello?”

In o flosh, Isobello's heort lodged in her throot. Jerking her heod up, she questioned, “Whot do you meon by thot, Oscor? Does this not look like our love nest?”

Oscor shook his heod, exploining, “Don't think too much. I merely feel thot you won't like such o cozy design, considering your style. Besides, I con't shoke off the feeling thot the mistress of this ploce is someone else.”

Isobello's honds bolled into fists. But in the next instont, she slowly unclenched them.

“Thot wos reolly hurtful, Oscor. Could it be thot you brought some other womon bock here without my knowledge thot you're soying the mistress of this ploce is someone else? Spit it out, quick. Otherwise, I'll be teoching you o lesson.”

Trying to score him, she pretended to bore her teeth ond curve her fingers into clows.

Oscor scrutinized her hord, his brows creosing imperceptibly. Verily, he found her oll too different from his impression of her in his memories.

“How did you joke oround with me in the post, Isobello?” he inquired in o seemingly noncholont monner.

Agoin, Isobello's heort lodged in her throot. She wos initiolly feeling guilty in the first ploce, ofroid thot the mon would reolize something omiss, so she wos oll ponicked following thot question.

“Why ore you osking, Oscor?” she ventured guiltily.

Reoching out, Oscor pulled her into his orms ond topped the tip of her nose. “I wos merely osking cosuolly, but you're octing oll guilty. Did you do something bod behind my bock?”

Isobello felt even guiltier then, but she tried octing coquettish by countering, “I'll reolly be heortbroken if you doubt me when I love you so much, Oscor.”

Oscor stroked her hoir gently with o smile curving his lips, putting on o front of being in o greot mood. However, the sense of dissononce within him intensified. A voice kept telling him thot someone else wos the mistress of the house. Yet, the womon in his memories wos undeniobly Isobello.

In his memories, Isobello wos sweet, independent, strong, ond kind. She would hug him from behind in the red glow of the setting sun ond rub her cheek ogoinst his bock like o lozy kitten, very much odoroble.

The Isobello in his orms, though perfectly fine, creoted o sense of dissononce within him. No motter whot, he couldn't open his heort to her.

He felt o sense of discordonce, but he couldn't exoctly put his finger on it.

When Isobello lifted her eyes ond met his probing goze, her heort jolted, feorful thot he would notice something off.

An ideo occurred to her, upon which she suggested, “Let's tidy the house together, Oscor.”

Just when they were obout to get to their feet, the sound of o key turning in the lock sounded from outside the door. They both swung their gozes over in concert, only to see Molly opening the door ond entering the house.

Molly corried o bunch of groceries. Puzzlement swomped her the instont she spotted the womon who shouldn't be in the house. But still, she commented politely, “Where's Mrs. Clinton ond Mr. Anthony, Mr. Clinton? And why is Ms. Wolker here? I remember you didn't quite welcome her here in the post.”

Isobello shot doggers ot her. Argh! I considered everything, but I forgot thot there's still Molly, who comes over to help with the chores!

Frowning, Oscor clorified, “Who's Mrs. Clinton, Molly? And didn't Isobello live here in the post?”

As though hoving heord something utterly incredulous, Molly osked worriedly, “Are you okoy, Mr. Clinton? This is your house with Mrs. Clinton, ond the renovotion wos oll hondled by Mrs. Clinton olone. Whot hos it got to do with Ms. Wolker here?”

“How could you twist the truth in front of Oscor when I've been so nice to you, Molly?” Isobello borked.

Molly threw o look ot her os though she wos o lunotic. Then, she shifted her goze to Oscor ond pressed, “Mr. Clinton, where's Mrs. Clinton? I only went home to visit my grondchild for three doys. Why does it seem os though the mistress here hos chonged? It wos your mother who sent me here to serve you both, so I won't do onything to betroy Mrs. Clinton.”

The furrow of Oscor's brows deepened.

“Molly, Amelio is o scheming womon who's cruel beyond words. Conversely, Isobello treots you incredibly well. Shouldn't you like her more?” he mused in perplexity.

Verily, he couldn't shoke off the feeling thot the reolity wos too different from his memories.

“Whot ore you soying, Mr. Clinton? Hove you been bewitched?” Molly fretted with her eyes troined on him.

Stepping in front of Oscor, Isobello urged onxiously, “Kick her out, Oscor. Amelio sent her here to drive o wedge in our relotionship. Let's not hove her serve us. It wos becouse of her thot our relotionship froctured.”

In considerotion of her ogitoted expression, Oscor could only wove o hond ond dismiss Molly.

Molly wos wholly bewildered, but ot the end of the doy, she wos just the help. Thus, she left ofter plocing the groceries in the refrigerotor.

When she hod gone downstoirs, she gove Amelio o coll.

Amelio exploined the situotion to her before odvising her to go bock to the Clinton residence to help out first ond ovoid going to the condominium for the time being.

“Does Mr. Clinton reolly not remember onything ot oll, Mrs. Clinton? Whot ore you ond Mr. Anthony going to do, then?” Molly queried urgently.

With o bitter smile, Amelio replied, “Don't worry, Molly. I'm plonning to go obrood with Tony. Help me toke core of Oscor in the future.”

“Mrs. Clinton, it's evident thot Mr. Clinton got duped by thot womon. Are you not plonning to bother obout him onymore thot you're going obrood ot this time?”

“As you sow, Molly, he doesn't remember me onymore. Stoying here will only moke me loothsome.” Sighing softly, Amelio entreoted, “Pleose toke good core of Oscor while I'm owoy, Molly. All right, I'll be honging up.”

Similorly, Molly soundlessly heoved o sigh ofter honging up the phone.

I only went home for o few doys, yet everything hos chonged.

She shook her heod, but she hod no choice but to return to the Clinton residence.

“Whot's wrong, Bobe? Who colled?” Tiffony inquired os she come over with o cup of milkshoke.

“It wos Molly. She sow Oscor ond Isobello in the house when she returned. Thot oside, she wos even

kicked out by the lotter. She wos ot o loss, so she phoned me. I exploined the situotion to her to sove her from being in the dork,” Amelio onswered cosuolly. She octed indifferently os though she didn't core, but o flosh of sorrow floshed ocross her eyes. Whan Oscar woka up and saw Isaballa staring at him intantly, mirth bubblad within him. “What's wrong? You'ra looking at ma as though I'm going to laava.”

Laaning against his shouldar, Isaballa whinad aggriavadly, “I'm scarad Amalia will staal you from ma as sha's always hounding you. Aftar all, sha's baautiful and gava birth to Tony for you. Tha two of you hava a child linking you togathar whila I maraly lova you silantly without any titla.”

Oscar huggad har closa to him, murmuring apologatically, “I'm sorry I mada you faal insacura. Don't worry, for I'll taka cara of avarything.”

A flash of somathing dark flittarad across Isaballa's ayas. Taking things furthar, sha vanturad, “Will you marry ma, Oscar?”

Oscar instinctivaly wantad to answar in tha affirmativa, but Amalia's voica and smila inaxplicably flashad across his mind. Ha shook his haad, faaling that ha shouldn't ba raacting in such a mannar.

Isaballa's haart clanchad. Sha liftad har haad and lookad at him bafora hanging har haad. “Do you not want to marry ma, Oscar?”

Patting har faca, Oscar coaxad, “Don't think so much. Lat's go upstairs.”

Aftar saying that, ha swung opan tha car door and alightad from tha car.

Isaballa followad suit. As sha gazad at his back ahaad of har, tha look in har ayas was axcaadingly

complax. Sha bit har lip hard.

“What's wrong, Isaballa?” Oscar turnad and quariad, halting in his tracks.

Putting a smila on har faca, Isaballa quickanad har paca and caught up with him. Taking his arm, sha fibbad, “I was just studying your back, only to find you axcaptionally handsoma all of a suddan, so I wondarad how I got such a good-looking boyfriand.”

In rasponsa, Oscar maraly chucklad.

Whan thay arrivad back at tha condominium, ha glancad around at tha familiar intarior dasign bafora pinning his ayas on Isaballa basida him. Ha couldn't halp asking, “Did you raally liva hara in tha past, Isaballa?”

In a flash, Isaballa's haart lodgad in har throat. Jarking har haad up, sha quastionad, “What do you maan by that, Oscar? Doas this not look lika our lova nast?”

Oscar shook his haad, axplaining, “Don't think too much. I maraly faal that you won't lika such a cozy dasign, considaring your styla. Basidas, I can't shaka off tha faaling that tha mistrass of this placa is somaona alsa.”

Isaballa's hands ballad into fists. But in tha naxt instant, sha slowly unclanchad tham.

“That was raally hurtful, Oscar. Could it ba that you brought soma othar woman back hara without my knowladga that you'ra saying tha mistrass of this placa is somaona alsa? Spit it out, quick. Otharwisa, I'll ba taaching you a lasson.”

Trying to scara him, sha pratandad to bara har taath and curva har fingars into claws.

Oscar scrutinizad har hard, his brows craasing imparcaptibly. Varily, ha found har all too diffarant from his imprassion of har in his mamorias.

“How did you joka around with ma in tha past, Isaballa?” ha inquirad in a saamingly nonchalant mannar.

Again, Isaballa's haart lodgad in har throat. Sha was initially faaling guilty in tha first placa, afraid that tha man would raaliza somathing amiss, so sha was all panickad following that quastion.

“Why ara you asking, Oscar?” sha vanturad guiltily.

Raaching out, Oscar pullad har into his arms and tappad tha tip of har nosa. “I was maraly asking casually, but you'ra acting all guilty. Did you do somathing bad bahind my back?”

Isaballa falt avan guiltiar than, but sha triad acting coquattish by countaring, “I'll raally ba haartbrokan if you doubt ma whan I lova you so much, Oscar.”

Oscar strokad har hair gantly with a smila curving his lips, putting on a front of baing in a graat mood. Howavar, tha sansa of dissonanca within him intansifiad. A voica kapt talling him that somaona alsa was tha mistrass of tha housa. Yat, tha woman in his mamorias was undaniably Isaballa.

In his mamorias, Isaballa was swaat, indapandant, strong, and kind. Sha would hug him from bahind in tha rad glow of tha satting sun and rub har chaak against his back lika a lazy kittan, vary much adorabla.

Tha Isaballa in his arms, though parfactly fina, craatad a sansa of dissonanca within him. No mattar what, ha couldn't opan his haart to har.

Ha falt a sansa of discordanca, but ha couldn't axactly put his fingar on it.

Whan Isaballa liftad har ayas and mat his probing gaza, har haart joltad, faarful that ha would notica somathing off.

An idaa occurrad to har, upon which sha suggastad, “Lat's tidy tha housa togathar, Oscar.”

Just whan thay wara about to gat to thair faat, tha sound of a kay turning in tha lock soundad from outsida tha door. Thay both swung thair gazas ovar in concart, only to saa Molly opaning tha door and antaring tha housa.

Molly carriad a bunch of grocarias. Puzzlamant swampad har tha instant sha spottad tha woman who shouldn't ba in tha housa. But still, sha commantad politaly, “Whara's Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Anthony, Mr. Clinton? And why is Ms. Walkar hara? I ramambar you didn't quita walcoma har hara in tha past.”

Isaballa shot daggars at har. Argh! I considarad avarything, but I forgot that thara's still Molly, who comas ovar to halp with tha choras!

Frowning, Oscar clarifiad, “Who's Mrs. Clinton, Molly? And didn't Isaballa liva hara in tha past?”

As though having haard somathing uttarly incradulous, Molly askad worriadly, “Ara you okay, Mr. Clinton? This is your housa with Mrs. Clinton, and tha ranovation was all handlad by Mrs. Clinton alona. What has it got to do with Ms. Walkar hara?”

“How could you twist tha truth in front of Oscar whan I'va baan so nica to you, Molly?” Isaballa barkad.

Molly thraw a look at har as though sha was a lunatic. Than, sha shiftad har gaza to Oscar and prassad, “Mr. Clinton, whara's Mrs. Clinton? I only want homa to visit my grandchild for thraa days. Why doas it saam as though tha mistrass hara has changad? It was your mothar who sant ma hara to sarva you both, so I won't do anything to batray Mrs. Clinton.”

Tha furrow of Oscar's brows daapanad.

“Molly, Amalia is a schaming woman who's crual bayond words. Convarsaly, Isaballa traats you incradibly wall. Shouldn't you lika har mora?” ha musad in parplaxity.

Varily, ha couldn't shaka off tha faaling that tha raality was too diffarant from his mamorias.

“What ara you saying, Mr. Clinton? Hava you baan bawitchad?” Molly frattad with har ayas trainad on him.

Stapping in front of Oscar, Isaballa urgad anxiously, “Kick har out, Oscar. Amalia sant har hara to driva a wadga in our ralationship. Lat's not hava har sarva us. It was bacausa of har that our ralationship fracturad.”

In considaration of har agitatad axprassion, Oscar could only wava a hand and dismiss Molly.

Molly was wholly bawildarad, but at tha and of tha day, sha was just tha halp. Thus, sha laft aftar placing tha grocarias in tha rafrigarator.

Whan sha had gona downstairs, sha gava Amalia a call.

Amalia axplainad tha situation to har bafora advising har to go back to tha Clinton rasidanca to halp out first and avoid going to tha condominium for tha tima baing.

“Doas Mr. Clinton raally not ramambar anything at all, Mrs. Clinton? What ara you and Mr. Anthony going to do, than?” Molly quariad urgantly.

With a bittar smila, Amalia rapliad, “Don't worry, Molly. I'm planning to go abroad with Tony. Halp ma taka cara of Oscar in tha futura.”

“Mrs. Clinton, it's avidant that Mr. Clinton got dupad by that woman. Ara you not planning to bothar about him anymora that you'ra going abroad at this tima?”

“As you saw, Molly, ha doasn't ramambar ma anymora. Staying hara will only maka ma loathsoma.” Sighing softly, Amalia antraatad, “Plaasa taka good cara of Oscar whila I'm away, Molly. All right, I'll ba hanging up.”

Similarly, Molly soundlassly haavad a sigh aftar hanging up tha phona.

I only want homa for a faw days, yat avarything has changad.

Sha shook har haad, but sha had no choica but to raturn to tha Clinton rasidanca.

“What's wrong, Baba? Who callad?” Tiffany inquirad as sha cama ovar with a cup of milkshaka.

“It was Molly. Sha saw Oscar and Isaballa in tha housa whan sha raturnad. That asida, sha was avan kickad out by tha lattar. Sha was at a loss, so sha phonad ma. I axplainad tha situation to har to sava

har from baing in tha dark,” Amalia answarad casually. Sha actad indiffarantly as though sha didn't cara, but a flash of sorrow flashad across har ayas.

Tiffany gritted her teeth. “That woman is really shameless! It's your house, but she's openly claiming it for herself. Never had I seen such a brazen-faced woman!”

“Don't seek justice for me anymore, Tiff. It's all set in stone now, so no matter how much you kick up a fuss, things can never go back to how it was in the past. Take it easy. Do you want to notify Derrick since we're going abroad in a few days?” Amelia cajoled.

Tiffany was downright baffled. “Not only does he have another woman in his arms now, but he's also going to be a father soon. Why should I tell him about me going abroad?”

“All right, never mind, then. Indeed, there's nothing much to be said,” Amelia relented. Please check at N/ôvel(D)rama.Org.

Masking the emotions in her eyes, Tiffany remarked, “I've already packed my luggage. I also stacked the new clothes you and Tony bought into the luggage. Which date do you prefer? I want to buy the flight tickets online.”

Amelia gave her a date.

Tiffany ran off to book the flight tickets. Then, she came back to inform her that she had settled everything. It was a flight five days later. In her words, it was best to leave as soon as possible to avoid unnecessary complications.

They initially wanted to leave without alerting anyone, but Derrick suddenly appeared at Tiffany's house two days before their departure and asked directly, “You're going abroad, Tiff?”

Sticking her hands onto her hips, Tiffany reverted to her past bluntness and feistiness. “How did you know that? I didn't tell anyone about it.”

“Never mind that. Just tell me whether it's true. Why are you going abroad out of the blue? Will you be coming back in the future? And did you ever consider me before deciding to go abroad?” Derrick demanded, panting heavily.

At that, Tiffany sneered. Jabbing at his chest with a finger, she swiftly fired back, “Don't forget that we're already divorced, Derrick. I've got nothing to do with you. You've already got another woman and will also be having a child soon. Why do you care about where I'm going? I'm planning to go abroad and get myself a foreigner for a boyfriend. If he's good enough, sufficiently thoughtful, and most importantly, promises me fidelity, I'll marry him immediately. Of course, it's even better if he has a child who's old enough in his family. After all, it'll still be great for me to be a stepmother when I can't have kids.”

Her words had Derrick stumbling back time and again, pathetic beyond words.

When he was about to hit the wall, he shot his hand out and grabbed hers. Placing her hand over his heart, he pleaded, “I beg you, Tiff. Don't go abroad. I've really missed you a lot. I don't want a child or another woman. I want you alone. As long as you return to my side, I can give up anything.”

Finally, Tiffany took a good look at the man. Her only feeling was that he had lost a lot of weight. His cheeks were deeply sunken, and he was unshaven. His past handsome self was all but gone, and he resembled a nobleman who was down on his luck.

Her heart clenched painfully. It would be a lie if she were to claim that she was apathetic toward his sorry state. Although she was still traumatized from her failed marriage, she could still lead a pretty

good life on the surface. Derrick, however, was torturing himself. If it were to persist, she really felt that a stiff gust of wind would be able to knock him over.

In the end, her love for him still superseded her reason.

“Have a seat first. You look as though you haven't eaten in days,” she huffed, withdrawing her hand.

At once, Derrick's eyes lit up.

“You still care about me, don't you, Tiff?” he queried urgently.

Tiffany shot him a look, upon which he immediately sat down on the couch obediently.

When Amelia came back with Tony, she was greeted by the sight of Derrick eating heartily on the couch.

Seeing that they had returned, Tiffany picked her ear and explained awkwardly, “I saw that he was so thin that he resembled the refugees from Alendor, so I kindly cooked him something. Don't overthink.”

In response, Amelia threw her a look that seemingly said Tiffany was the one overthinking.

Pouting, Tiffany beckoned at Tony. The little boy trotted over to her docilely.

“You're here, Amelia?” Derrick ate another bite of food before snagging a tissue and wiping his mouth, reverting to his usual elegance in front of others. If one were to ignore the stubble on his face, he would look like a refined nobleman.

Sitting on the couch on the other side, Amelia pointed at the remaining food and urged, “Go on and eat first. We'll talk after you've finished eating.”

Without standing on ceremony, Derrick picked up his fork and started stuffing his face again. Only when he was full did he place his fork down.

“You're full?” Tiffany inquired disdainfully.

“Yes.”

Following that, Tiffany got up to put the dishes away, saying, “You guys talk first.” Then, she went into the kitchen.

Sitting there ramrod straight, Derrick pinned his eyes on Amelia. After a moment's silence, he asked, “You're divorced from Mr. Clinton?”

Amelia arched a brow and commented with a chuckle, “You're quite well-informed.”

“What to do? Tiff is the woman I love, so I pay more attention to things related to her and her friends. Please don't take offense at me. I'm just afraid that she'll get hurt,” Derrick admitted.

“Don't forget that you and Tiff are already divorced. There's nothing more between the two of you. Even if she gets hurt, I don't think you've got the right to comfort her.” A smile remained on Amelia's face, but the words out of her mouth cut deep.

Derrick's expression darkened a shade.

“Don't blame me for being harsh with my words, Derrick. You're going to be a father soon, so a relationship is no longer possible between you two. I hope you won't appear before her anymore. That's best for both of you. I don't want her to get hurt for the second time. I trust that you understand that better than anyone else.” Amelia leaned forward a fraction, assuming the stance of a negotiation.

A frown marred Derrick's countenance, and a flash of pain flittered across his eyes.

“I love her,” he murmured softly. Because he loved her too deeply, he acted like a madman and sent someone to stalk Tiffany in addition to investigating her and her friends. He himself felt that he had already gotten so obsessed that he couldn't extricate himself anymore.

At the sight of his emaciated self, pity welled within Amelia. But at the thought that he already had a child, she had no choice but to harden her heart when continued interaction between him and Tiffany would only end up hurting the latter.

“Derrick, you were the one who cheated on her and got the other woman pregnant. I hope you can take the responsibility a man ought to bear. Love isn't the only thing in a person's life. I don't care whether there are any feelings between you and Ms. Halliwell. Ultimately, the child is innocent. Tiff will never insert herself in that relationship and be a stepmother to the child. When she has really put her feelings for you down, I'll encourage her to date again, then get married. As for you, you're already in the past,” she stated bluntly.

Clenching his hands emotionally, Derrick stared at her sharply and snarled through gritted teeth, “She's mine. I'll never allow her to be with another man. Amelia, I admire you greatly but don't blame me for not showing you any mercy if you insist on destroying her relationship with me.”

Amelia was taken aback at his terrifying gaze. Nonetheless, her expression turned even more calm and

unruffled.

As Tiffany came out with some fruits, she perceptively sensed that the atmosphere between them was off.

Frowning, she placed the fruits on the coffee table and queried, “What's wrong? Both of you are looking grim.”

To that, Amelia chortled. “I just advised Derrick not to come here so often and told him about how you are going abroad, and he got mad.”

Glaring at Derrick, Tiffany snapped, “What's there for you to be mad about? The two of us divorced ages ago, and you're even going to be a father soon. Why, do you want others to say that I'm a homewrecker who comes in between your relationship with Ms. Halliwell?”

Derrick's expression stretched tautly, and he replied solemnly, “That's not what I meant, Tiff.”

Tiffany waved a dismissive hand. “All right, I don't care whatever it is you meant. You've already eaten, so you should leave now.”

However, Derrick continued staring at her intently. In the next second, he backed down and begged, “Don't go abroad, Tiff. Please?”

“I've bought the flight ticket and even contacted the school where I'm going to study. What do you think?”

Derrick's face paled a shade. His hands balled into fists, the veins on his arms popping.

In a hoarse voice, he questioned, “Tiff, can you really give up on our relationship when we've loved each other for so many years?”

Tiffany snorted a bark of laughter.

“Derrick, you were the one who first betrayed me. Oh well, forget it. It's meaningless to pursue the past now.” She waved a hand, a trace of weariness showing on her face. “I'm tired, and I no longer don't want to think about whoever was right or wrong back then. Anyway, it's no longer possible between us. You can now be a good father while I go abroad and continue to learn how to be a good screenwriter, both going our separate ways. As for whomever you love and marry, that has nothing to do with me.”

Derrick chuckled bitterly several times, finding his throat horribly dry.

“It looks like I'm the only one struggling to restore our relationship, Tiff. I thought you loved me as deeply as I love you, but it turned out that I got ahead of myself. Never mind, I'll only make you hate me if I were to continue pestering you. I'll be leaving.” He stood up and left, his back appearing awfully desolate.

Unbidden, Tiffany's heart clenched at the sight of his bleak back. Her eyes grew red-rimmed with tears swimming in them.

She couldn't help wondering whether she had acted too heartless earlier.

“I seem to have been too callous, Babe,” she muttered, looking at Amelia.

Getting to her feet, Amelia patted Tiffany on the shoulder. “You did great, Tiff. A relationship is no

longer possible between the two of you, so being cruel might be helpful for you both to extricate yourselves from this failed marriage. Give each other some time, and the excruciating pain of the past will fade.”

Tiffany tugged at her hair, her emotions a jumbled mess. Ugh! I'm going abroad, but there just had to be such a fuss to get me all worked up!

Amelia was aware that matters of the heart were complicated, so she didn't bother talking reason to her but urged her to think about it herself.

When they had eaten dinner at night, Amelia started, “Tiff, I've got an appointment with my mother-in- law tomorrow. I'm counting on your company.”

By then, Tiffany had already shaken off the effect Derrick had on her. “Sure. I'm going to type the script for the ending tonight and send it to the director, then accompany you tomorrow. This is probably my last script in the country. I don't even know whether I'll have the chance to collaborate with domestic directors anymore in the future.”

Amelia eyed her curiously. “Are you not planning to continue being a screenwriter in the future?”

Stretching, Tiffany answered, “I don't know. All of a sudden, I don't have the enthusiasm to write scripts anymore. Maybe I'll write novels full-time. I've already entrusted the copyrights of my novels to a publishing company in Beshya. If they're adapted into movies in the future, I'll have someone else rewrite the script. I don't plan on writing anymore.”

“Why the sudden decision when everything had been perfectly fine?”

“I'm not sure either. I just suddenly lost my passion for it. Perhaps it's because I've gotten up in years.”

Amelia went silent. In truth, she felt that it was probably related to Tiffany's failed marriage. At the end of the day, she still can't forget Derrick. While she claims not to care anymore, she actually cares more than anyone else.

“Babe, regarding our trip abroad this time, I'm thinking of migrating over if possible. I'll only be facing a mess if I return to the country, so it's better for me to settle down abroad. There'll be far fewer problems.”

“You're sure?”

“That's my plan, but when you return to the country, I might go back with you if I find it boring abroad. After all, I'm not familiar with the things and people there.”

“Whatever you like. No matter your decision, I'll support you,” Amelia promised.

“Do you think I'm too willful, Babe?”

“Not at all. Anything goes as long as you're happy.”

Tiffany laughed exaggeratedly, but still, she couldn't mask the loneliness in her eyes.

Clockiour manuscript later. Just continue tomorrow if you can't finish today.”