“People are going to say whatever they want, and I can’t stop them.”
I’d come to terms with that a long time ago. The insults and the mockery didn’t bother me
anymore.
There were countless people online, and plenty with nothing better to do than curse me. I couldn’t possibly argue with every single one of them.
Besides, I didn’t have the energy for it.
As expected, Abigail hadn’t said a single word to defend me.
What did surprise me, though, was that Joshua had stepped forward to speak on my behalf.
“People go through ups and downs. Abigail and Samuel just had a small disagreement. It’s not what you all think.” His words sounded insincere and two–faced.
Sometimes, I seriously wondered if Joshua had taken classes on how to be the perfect fake.
How did he manage to play the innocent act so convincingly?
Abigail was probably feeling touched, seeing him publicly “clear things up” on my behalf.
It seemed like he had forgotten all about how I’d forced him to dig through a filthy dumpster to retrieve Kayla’s belongings just last night. Now, here he was, speaking up for me.
What a performer.
Suddenly, a sharp pain twisted through my abdomen, and my forehead broke out in a cold sweat.
Sophia, ever perceptive, noticed right away.
She quickly pulled the car over, her hand gently patting my shoulder in concern. “Samuel, are you okay? Are you feeling unwell?”
Her kindness warmed me in a way I hadn’t expected.
I remembered how this stabbing pain had hit me before, so intense that I could barely stand or walk
Abigail would notice, of course. But she never cared.
Even when it was obvious I was in pain, she’d still order me around, telling me to cook for her, to run errands, showing no concern for my well–being.
She was my wife, yet she couldn’t have cared less about me, not even when I was practically dying. And here was her assistant, genuinely worried, making sure I was okay.
A wave of intense pain made it hard to breathe, and my head pounded relentlessly. I couldn’t hold on any longer and passed out.
When I opened my eyes again, the sharp scent of disinfectant filled my nose.
I let out a bitter laugh in my head.
Beside me, Sophia was sitting with red–rimmed eyes, watching me closely.
As soon as she saw I was awake, she leaned forward, her voice filled with relief. “Samuel, how are you feeling now?”
“Much better.” I managed a smile, hoping to reassure her.
But Sophia immediately stood up, still looking worried. “I’ll go get the doctor. Just hold on for a moment!”
The doctor arrived quickly, and after reviewing my test results, he frowned at me.
“Samuel, I remember you. Last time, I told you your condition was serious and that you needed to stay in the hospital for proper treatment. Why didn’t you listen?”
“He’s right, Samuel. Please listen to the doctor this time and focus on getting better,” Sophia added gently, patting my shoulder in encouragement.
I didn’t resist this time and agreed to stay in the hospital.
But hospital life was unbearably dull, and I was someone who couldn’t stand sitting idle. To pass the time, I picked up some paper and a pen and started writing lyrics and composing music.
Most of the songs Abigail used to sing were written and composed by me.
That’s how she’d often won awards for Best Lyrics, becoming the darling of the industry.
Now, without my help, she could still hire other writers, of course. But she hadn’t won any awards since.
Not that she probably cared about that anymore.
I sent a message to Sophia, asking if she could bring my violin from home.
She replied with a delighted question, “Are you planning to start composing again?”
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