Filed to story: When His Wife Can’t Forgive
The words stuck in Corey’s throat, refusing to form. Instead, he managed to say, “I have to leave next week, and I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so I’m asking you to take care of her.”
Alicia fell silent. Though they were no longer close, their past partnership lingered like a shadow. She could sense the undercurrent of distress in Corey’s voice.
Later, after finalizing the arrangements, Corey received word from the doctor-Gemma had stabilized and regained consciousness. He rushed back to her side.
Though pallor still clung to her features, Gemma looked stronger overall. Her eyes fluttered open, and she whispered, “Corey, what happened to me? It feels like I’ve been asleep for an eternity.” Masking his worry behind a gentle smile, Corey crouched beside her bed, keeping the truth of her illness locked away. “The doctor says you’re too thin and malnourished. I’ll put work aside and stay home with you for a few days. Eat well, okay, Gemma?” Gemma nodded.
As noon approached, Corey headed to the kitchen to prepare her meal himself.
Gemma’s eyes followed his retreating figure, a mix of emotions swirling in her gaze.
Gemma agreed to stay with Alicia, finding solace in the arrangement.
While packing Gemma’s belongings, Corey’s eyes fell on the meticulously folded clothes in the wardrobe, and Pierre’s past dedication washed over him like a tidal wave. His heart constricted with an overwhelming regret, carving deep furrows of pain through his soul. The memory of Pierre’s death and the innocent lives lost in Terriland weighed on him like lead-mistakes so grave that even a hundred deaths couldn’t begin to absolve them.
With trembling hands, Gemma retrieved a box containing Pierre’s few remaining possessions. Among them lay a necklace, forever destined to remain ungiven.
As Gemma placed it in Corey’s hands, its weight felt crushing-heavier than any physical burden he’d ever carried.
“Do you still blame me?” Corey’s words hung in the air.
Gemma’s silence stretched between them.
Time slipped through their fingers until the moment of departure arrived. Corey’s heart ached as he fed Gemma the gentle lie about a business trip and a swift return.
Gemma’s fragility prevented her from walking Corey out as she once would have, her strength barely sufficient for a few steps.
At every turn, Corey looked back, drinking in the sight of Gemma until she faded from view. Only then did he sink into the car’s leather seat. The necklace, meant for Pierre, rested against his chest.
Dreams had become Gemma’s sanctuary lately. In those ethereal moments, health flowed through her veins, and sweetness danced on her tongue. Pierre visited her there, whispering promises to take her far away from all this pain.
Some nights, when the endless medications and sleepless hours of agony became too much, Gemma longed for a final rest. But morning would creep in, bringing thoughts of Corey that anchored her to life. She’d brush away her tears, determination kindling anew in her heart. Alicia remained a constant presence, gently wiping away the cold sweat that painted Gemma’s skin, helping her change into fresh, sterile clothes.
Gemma’s forehead creased with concern. “Alicia, when will Corey be back?” Her voice trembled with the question.
Alicia didn’t know. Three days-that was what Corey had promised if everything went according to plan. But those three days had come and gone like autumn leaves in the wind.
“He’ll be back tomorrow,” Alicia found herself weaving a gentle lie. “Get better soon, Gemma, so you can welcome him home yourself.”
“Will I still be alive when he returns?” Gemma’s question hung in the air like frost.
Alicia’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening. They’d guarded this secret so carefully-how could Gemma have known about her condition?
“I knew it from the first day, Alicia.” The words scraped past Gemma’s parched lips, each syllable draining what little strength she had left. Fighting back tears, Alicia squeezed Gemma’s delicate hand. “Hold on for the sake of your brother, Gemma. Just hold on a little longer.” Gemma nodded gently. But she was in so much pain, gasping for air. Her compromised immune system had betrayed her, spawning mysterious wounds and bruises that defied all treatment. Day by day, her frail form withered like a flower in winter.
“Gemma, just hold on a little longer,” Alicia whispered, her fingers tracing soothing circles on Gemma’s hand.
Gemma could have lived. But Pierre’s death had broken something deep inside her, pushing her to drain the artificial heart chip far too quickly. What should have been a gradual process, now felt like a race against time.
The artificial heart that had sustained her for a year was now failing in mere months. Was this Gemma’s fate or Corey’s? Who was truly paying the price for whose actions?
Corey had planned everything before he reached the family’s doorstep. He rang the doorbell, ready to step inside as an honored guest, only to later abduct the lady of the house.
After a long, heavy silence, the door creaked open. Corey paused, lowering his gaze.
A little girl, no older than four, stood there in a delicate floral dress. Her wide, innocent eyes sparkled as she looked up at him. “Hello. Are you here to see my dad?” she asked sweetly.
Corey, dressed in a sleek black trench coat, kept his expression neutral. In the coat’s pocket, his fingers curled around a silenced pistol. He stared at the little girl, momentarily unable to speak. Then, lowering himself to her level, he asked softly, “Is your mom home?”
The little girl smiled brightly and nodded. “Please wait right here. I’ll go get her.”
She turned and dashed off, her skirt fluttering like butterfly wings with each step.
Corey’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure as a memory rushed back to him. Four-year-old Gemma had been just like this girl, except her life had been far from carefree. She had suffered alongside him in the orphanage, often falling ill. No one wanted to adopt her, and her fragile condition only made her a target for bullies. But the young Gemma had been strong. Despite her frailty, she was always his protector. She would steal food for him, fend off stray dogs, and stand up to cruel adults with unwavering defiance.
At that time, Gemma had worn ragged clothes, her eyes lingering on the beautiful dresses of other little girls her age. Yet, whenever she looked at Corey, there was no envy-only a fierce loyalty and quiet resilience.
Corey had always wanted to give Gemma a dress she could be proud of. But by the time he could afford one, her illness had worsened. He filled their home with dresses, but Gemma was too weak to leave home and wear them in the world she longed to see.
After Pierre’s death, Gemma’s nights were filled with restless tears. In her dreams, she would beg him to stop killing.
Corey’s chest tightened with unbearable pain. Slowly, he released his grip on the gun. Without another word, he turned and walked away.
That same day, Corey bought a ticket to return home. But before he could board, Alicia called him. “You should come back,” she said, her voice calm but heavy.
Corey’s chest constricted. Alicia hadn’t mentioned Gemma, but he didn’t need her to. His gut told him what she couldn’t say aloud. Gemma was running out of time.
Corey’s fists clenched as he struggled to respond. The words stuck in his throat, weighed down by anguish. Each second of waiting before the plane took off was pure agony, like being stabbed repeatedly with a blade that twisted deeper with every moment.
Then, as if mocking him, a thunderstorm rolled in, delaying the flight. Corey sat alone in the terminal, his hands trembling. He couldn’t shake the thought of Gemma suffering, her small frame wracked with pain. The regret, the helplessness, the despair-it all consumed him, gnawing at his soul.
With shaking hands, Corey pulled out his phone and called his medical team. “Prepare for surgery. I’ll be back in three hours.” The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Hampton, do you have a heart donor lined up?”
Corey’s voice cracked. “Use mine.”
The doctor’s tone turned urgent. “But your blood type doesn’t match Gemma’s. You know this.”
Corey had known for a long time. He had run the tests himself. He couldn’t save her. But the thought of doing nothing tore him apart. “I don’t care. Do it anyway. Try anything.”
Gemma had always imagined that, at the end of her life, she would look pitiful. But decades of pain had conditioned her for suffering. Right now, lying in the bed of the emergency room in the villa Corey had bought for her, she found herself clinging to the smallest comforts. Alicia sat beside her, holding her frail hand gently.
“Your brother will be back soon,” Alicia murmured, stroking Gemma’s hair with a tenderness that made Gemma’s chest ache.
Gemma turned her head slightly, nuzzling Alicia’s palm. She knew the truth. Her time was almost up. Corey raced back to see her one last time, but the thought of him crying at her bedside filled her with dread. She had endured so much pain-she could endure more-but the thought of seeing her brother’s heartbreak was unbearable.
Gemma closed her eyes for a moment, summoning the last bit of strength she had. Slowly, she scratched Alicia’s palm. “Alicia,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I want to change my clothes.”
Alicia frowned, concerned. “Are you uncomfortable? Let me clean you up.”
Gemma shook her head weakly. “No… I want to wear the white dress my brother brought for me as my first gift.”
Alicia’s heart clenched. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced a smile. She just couldn’t refuse.
The dress had been carefully preserved, its fabric still pristine despite the years. Corey had spent all his savings on it back then. Gemma had loved it, but her illness had stolen any chance of her wearing it outside. As Alicia helped Gemma into the dress, she couldn’t hold back her tears. It hung loosely on Gemma’s frail frame, her body reduced to little more than skin and bones.
“Gemma, you haven’t eaten in days. What would you like? I’ll make it for you.”
Gemma stared up at Alicia, her eyes unblinking. “Osmanthus cake,” she said faintly. It was Pierre’s promise-a promise he had never kept. Alicia wiped her tears and smiled. “Wait here. I’ll make it for you.”
Gemma gave a small nod. “Alright.”
Just then, there was a knock on the door.
Alicia stepped out to find Caden waiting for her. “Corey’s plane has landed. If he hurries, he’ll be here in half an hour.” Caden hesitated, glancing behind Alicia before pulling her aside.
Alicia glanced back at Gemma, who lay quietly.
“What is it?” Alicia asked, her brows knitting together.
Caden sighed heavily. “Corey plans to give his heart to Gemma.”
Alicia’s chest tightened at Caden’s revelation. Corey’s decision was practically a surrender of his own life, clinging to the faintest hope of making Gemma live on.
Alicia closed her eyes for a moment, forcing herself to stay calm. Her voice came out low and strained. “Let’s not talk about it now. We’ll wait until Corey returns.”
In that moment, Alicia resolved to make the osmanthus cake, just as Gemma had wished, before her ultimate end. Outside, the osmanthus trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches heavy with ripe fruit. Alicia called over a few bodyguards and asked them to help her gather some osmanthus. Normally, baking a cake was easy for Alicia-she was skilled at it-but today, her hands fumbled, and she kept making mistakes.
Caden eventually stepped in to help, noticing her struggle. Together, they worked through the mishaps and finally managed to finish the cake.
“You’re too worried about Gemma,” Caden murmured, his tone gentle yet firm. He watched Alicia carefully, his brow creased with concern. “Death is a part of life. No one can escape it.”
Alicia’s hands stilled, her fingers trembling as tears spilled down her cheeks. “But why Gemma? Why at such a young age?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “What did she ever do to deserve this?”
Caden moved closer and wrapped his arms around Alicia, rubbing her back in slow, comforting motions.
Sniffling, Alicia wiped her tears quickly. She cut the cake into small, neat slices, making it easier for Gemma to eat.
Just as they were preparing to take the cake upstairs, the front door creaked open. Corey staggered inside, his clothes dusty and his face pale. His breathing was uneven, and his eyes-empty and haunted-found Alicia across the room.
Corey wanted to ask about Gemma-how she was-but the question caught in his throat, his fear holding him back.
Alicia met his gaze, her voice trembling. “Gemma said she wanted osmanthus cake. I just made some. Let’s take it to her together.”
Hearing Alicia’s words, Corey felt a faint sense of relief amidst the storm in his heart. Gemma had an appetite. That had to be a good sign.
Silently, Corey sent a prayer to the heavens. If it were possible, he would have gladly traded his life for Gemma’s health. But as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was selfish. He didn’t ask for much-just a little more time. If Gemma couldn’t have a long life, he prayed she could at least recover enough to find happiness for a few years. Even ten years would feel like a miracle.
Gemma had endured too much-endless medications, constant pain, and sleepless nights. It was a burden no one should have to bear. And yet, Corey couldn’t shake the guilt. It was his fault. As her brother, he should have protected her better, fought harder for her.
When they reached the door to Gemma’s room, Corey hesitated, fumbling awkwardly through his pockets. “I didn’t bring her a gift,” he muttered, regret lacing his voice. Gemma loved little trinkets-the quirky treasures he always brought back for her when he traveled. They never failed to brighten her day.
“You can get one later,” Alicia said softly, her hand resting on the doorknob.
She opened the door and stepped inside, her voice bright and warm, as though nothing had changed. “Gemma, guess who’s back!” But her smile froze, and the plate she was holding slipped from her hands, crashing to the floor and shattering into jagged pieces.
The sound jolted Corey, making his heart leap.
Caden hastily stepped in front of Corey, blocking his view, but Alicia’s reaction told Corey everything.
Corey’s legs felt like they were about to give way. Mustering every ounce of strength, he pushed past Caden and Alicia, desperate to see for himself. His breath caught in his throat.
Gemma lay on the bed, her frail body perfectly still. The oxygen tube that had been keeping her alive was gone, discarded by her side. She had removed it herself.