Where Love Began to Hurt Ch 7

Chapter 7
“Adelia, you nearly kiIled Gwen, and you still have the nerve to sleep?!”
Adelia struggled to lift her head. Jordan’s eyes were bloodshot with rage.
Diana sobbed quietly beside him, head bowed.
“Lia…” Diana choked, tears streaming down. “Gwen doesn’t have much time left. Why won’t you just leave her alone? We let the farewell incident slide, but this time… are you trying to kilI her?”
Adelia gripped the bedsheet tight. She couldn’t stand that fake face any longer.
She forced herself up, voice cold and firm. “I didn’t curse her at the farewell, and I didn’t push her off the cliff. You let Gwen frame me again and again—don’t you fear karma?”
Smack!
A harsh slap landed across her face. She staggered back, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth.
“You ungrateful brrat!” Jordan shook with fury. “Your mother was the same—always blaming others. And now you…”
“Jordan, calm down,” Diana said softly, patting his back. “It’s my fault. I didn’t raise Lia well…”
“It’s not your fault!” he snapped. His eyes fixed on Adelia. “Since you’re so capable, from today on, you’re no longer part of the Keith family!”
With that, he stormed out with Diana.
A bolt of lightning split the sky. Rain poured down.
Adelia collapsed to the floor, curled up, buried her face in her knees, and cried in silence.
In a daze, her mother’s dying words echoed in her ears.
That frail hand had gripped hers tightly, voice weak but clear. “Lia, walk your path well… I’ll be watching from heaven…”
All these years, she forced herself to eat, to sleep, to live well—just to show her mother she could thrive, even without a father’s love.
But now?
“Mom…” Adelia whispered, tears soaking her clothes. “You must be so disappointed in me…”
The storm outside raged on.
She clutched herself and cried herself to sleep.
—
When Adelia woke again, she was on the living room couch.
The fireplace crackled softly.
Ethan sat nearby, cigaarette between his fingers, pale sm0ke curling through the air.
“Ethan…” she croaked. Her throat burned with dryness.
He turned. The gentleness in his eyes was gone—only coldness remained.
“You’re awake?”
“How did I get here?” She tried to sit up but had no strength.
He didn’t answer. Just said, “I was going to pick you up yesterday. But Gwen’s art exhibit caught fire. Every single painting was lost.”
Her heart dropped.
She understood what he was implying. “It wasn’t me,” she said quickly. “I didn’t set that fire. I didn’t do any of this. You can investigate…”
“Adelia.” He cut her off gently, but his gaze was unfamiliar. “Gwen’s dream was to be a painter. Those paintings were her life. She would never destroy them herself.”
Her fingers trembled. “What are you trying to say?”
“I didn’t tell Jordan, or Gwen, that you started the fire,” Ethan said, rising to his feet, towering over her. “But this can’t go unpunished.
“Now you’ll know what it feels like to lose something that matters.”
Only then did she notice—he was holding the stuffed toy her mother made.
“I know this means the most to you,” he said, fingers slowly tightening. The toy bent out of shape in his grip. “If I destroy it, you’ll break too, won’t you?”
“No!” Adelia fell off the couch, scrambling toward him.
That toy had been sewn by her mother when she was ten, even as her mother was gravely ill.
She’d stitched it herself, shaky hands barely holding the needle, and handed it to Adelia on her deathbed. “Lia, I can’t stay with you anymore. If you miss me, just hold this…”
Later, Adelia secretly sewed her mother’s ashes inside the toy. She held it every night, through every unbearable day.
And now Ethan wanted to destroy it?
“I told you, once Gwen’s gone, things will go back to how they were,” he said.
“You just wouldn’t listen.”
Then he tossed the toy into the burning fireplace.
“No—!” Adelia let out a scream that tore through the room and lunged forward.
Flames scorched her arms, but she didn’t feel it. She dove into the fire, pulling out the charred remains of the toy.
She held it tightly, shaking, her tears splashing onto the blackened fabric.
Behind her, footsteps.
Ethan walked past without a glance and left the room.
—
Adelia cried the whole night.
At dawn, she packed her bags and walked out, the burnt toy still in her arms.
On the path to the gate, Gwen’s wheelchair suddenly blocked her way.
“Move.” Her voice was hoarse.
“Why so hostile, Adelia?” Gwen smiled. “Once you’re gone, we probably won’t meet again. After all, in Dad and Ethan’s eyes, you’re already a heartless witch. They’ll never let you come back.”
“Good,” Adelia said coldly. “And since you’re dying, we really won’t see each other again.”
Gwen suddenly burst into laughter.
“Oh, Adelia, you actually believed I was terminally ill?” She stood up from the wheelchair and walked toward her. “It was just a trick to fool Ethan. Once I announce it was a misdiagnosis, don’t you think he’ll be thrilled?
“Oh, and one more thing.” She leaned in close. “Your marriage certificate with Ethan? Totally fake. I’m the real wife.”
Gwen waited for her reaction—but got nothing.
Adelia gripped her suitcase handle, knuckles white, but her face was calm. “Well then, I wish you a happy life together.”
She turned and walked off without looking back.
As she waited by the road, a black car pulled up beside her.
The window rolled down. It was Ethan. “You’re leaving?”
“Yeah.”
“We should both cool off for a while,” he said quietly. “When you come back, let’s fix this.”
Adelia said nothing. She got in the cab.
As his car slowly drove off, she said silently in her heart, “Ethan, when you learn the truth, I hope you regret it.”
The cab pulled away. Adelia glanced once at the house—where all her love and pain had lived.
Then she looked away. “Airport, please.”
The two cars drove off in opposite directions.
Just like their lives—never to cross again.