A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

After she changed, Adrian brewed her a cup of tea with milk, a comforting British classic.

Willow, for once, wasn’t holed up in her room gaming. Clutching a bag of crisps, she emerged and cast a glance at Matilda. “You know, it actually looks pretty decent on you.”

“Spill the beans,” Matilda demanded.

Willow, lounging on the sofa with the air of an imperious old man, crisps in hand, lost her usual haughty outdoors demeanor. Yet, her eyes still held a hint of arrogance as they flitted back and forth between Matilda and Adrian. “My brother mentioned once that he found you pretty. Tried to ask you out but didn’t make it, and now, here you two are together? What’s the story?”

The question struck at Matilda’s pride. She paled a little. “Nothing of the sort.”

“Taken your meds yet?”

Adrian glanced at Matilda, who nodded in confirmation. The man then stared at her with a meaningful intensity. “Don’t you have anything to say to a man who kindly took you in on a rainy night?”

Matilda’s response was crisp and clear. “Thank you.”

Willow observed the exchange and couldn’t help but commend, “Impressive. No woman has ever talked to my brother quite like that.”

Adrian, visibly irritated, raked his fingers through his hair and looked outside where the rain had tapered off. His voice laced with impatience, he said, “Alright, I’m not fishing for your gratitude. If there’s nothing else, you can hail a cab and leave. You don’t expect me to drive you, do you?”

His tone was now dismissive and cold as if their serendipitous coffee shop encounter had been nothing but a dream. Matilda understood all too well that it was merely a play he was willing to

enact.

She straightened her back, trying to appear less disheveled, but her dignity had already been trampled that rainy night.

The tale spun as a pretense to resonate with her, the intentionally chosen clothes that put her in a bind, and the final push into the rain–all engineered to soften and then shatter her heart, to bleed and ache repeatedly.

Such a cruel man… It was his initial act of kindness, the overly gentle cup of coffee, that made his cruelty so extreme. She had believed his fabricated story as if it were true.

Without a word, Matilda left. Her silhouette was slender as she walked away, with Adrian watching her until he scoffed. “Hypocritical woman.”

“Please,” Willow retorted, still munching on crisps. “You just wanted to drive her home, didn’t

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YOU?”

“Which eye saw me wanting that?”

Adrian snatched the crisps from Willow’s grasp. “Junk food again? You’ll turn into a pig at this rate!”

Three days later, Willow received a transfer for the exact amount of the new clothes, which was deposited neatly into her account.

Willow, smirking, showed Adrian the bank notification. “Matilda paid me back.”

“Why’s she paying you?” Adrian brushed back his hair to look at her. “Got some new melodramatic scheme?”

“Get over it. She’s not even into you.”

Willow curled her lip mockingly. “With an ex like Yvan, you think she’d give you a second glance? You can’t compare to Yvan.”

Meanwhile, Matilda lay in bed, drained by the death of a loved one and a recent illness. Pale and propped against the headboard, she was caught in a nightmare. C0pyright © 2024 Nôv)(elDrama.Org.

In her dream, she was running endlessly, with Yvan in pursuit. His handsome face, now demonic in its coldness, seemed intent on her destruction. “Matilda, if you want your child, come and atone!” he demanded.