"Are you feeling any better?" Zoe Lancaster asked calmly. Her gaze was steady, betraying no outward emotion, making it impossible to gauge exactly how one should approach her.
Peyton Joyce stared at her for a long moment, her mind racing. Unable to glean any reaction from Zoe, she finally offered a slow, almost bitter smile. "I’m used to this broken body of mine. Every time, Simon forbids me from ruining my health. It seems others cherish my well-being even more than I do."
It was true. Simon Hawthorne did care for her deeply. Zoe wasn’t obtuse; she perfectly understood Peyton’s underlying message. Standing here right now, she felt exactly like an obstacle preventing two star-crossed lovers from finally being together.
Even though Peyton wasn’t outwardly displaying any malice, Zoe wasn’t a fool. How could she not sense the other woman’s deep-seated resentment and unwillingness to let go? For some reason, the moment she saw Peyton today, a certain realization clicked into place. Peyton didn’t want to die. She just wanted the undivided attention and care of the man she loved.
"You wanted to see me. Is there something you wish to say?" Zoe had no desire to indulge in a detailed discussion about how much Simon loved the other woman, coldly steering the conversation elsewhere.
Peyton looked at her, her pale face still retaining its soft, harmless demeanor. "I smell Chinese herbal medicine on you. Are you still drinking the medicine Grandma brews for you?"
Zoe was slightly surprised. She only drank one bowl a day at a scheduled time, and because she hated the smell, she always made sure to wash up thoroughly afterward. She hadn’t expected Peyton’s nose to be so sharp.
"Is there a smell? You can smell it?"
Peyton gave a weak smile. "I suppose prolonged illness makes one a doctor. I’m quite sensitive to medication. I spent all those years abroad dealing with medicine every single day, so over time, I’ve managed to learn a thing or two about it myself."
Zoe said nothing more. She couldn’t empathize with Peyton, and she couldn’t even be bothered to feign politeness.
Peyton watched her thoughtfully, an irrepressible sorrow hidden in her eyes as she apologized, "I heard you were caught and harassed by the media when you came back alone. I didn’t mean for that to happen. Simon was just frantic at the time and overlooked it, so I wanted to apologize to you for that."
In response, Zoe’s stunningly ethereal face turned frosty. She suddenly felt that Peyton was genuinely sick in the head. If she felt sorry, then she shouldn’t have done things to wrong others in the first place. Offering a half-hearted apology after the fact—was it meant to be sincere, or just to disgust her? What was her angle?
"I know this can’t make up for the emotional hurt you’ve suffered, but I still have to tell you the truth." A hint of helplessness surfaced in Peyton’s eyes. "You’ve seen where Simon’s heart lies. As long as I draw breath, he will always prioritize me, and you will remain in pain. I really like you, so I don’t want you to keep getting hurt because of us. It’s better to rip the band-aid off now than to suffer prolonged agony."
Zoe looked up, feeling as though a biting wind had just blown right through her chest. Her lips twitched. "Are you trying to persuade me to leave him?"
"I just want you to let yourself off the hook and live a comfortable life." Peyton’s eyes were brimming with sincerity, as if she were truly plagued by guilt.
Zoe let out a slow smile. It was as radiant as a blooming begonia, possessing a striking, overwhelming beauty. As long as she was present, no one could ever hope to outshine her. The sight caused Peyton’s expression to darken for a split second, her fingers clenching subconsciously.
A second later, Zoe spoke. "Miss Joyce, if you feel so sorry for me, why don’t you leave our lives instead of persuading me to divorce him?"
What kind of logic was that? A woman coveting her husband was asking the lawful wife to take the hint and leave? If she were truly sorry, would she be acting like this? Peyton was the one ruining someone else’s marriage; what gave her the right to shamelessly offer such well-intentioned "advice"?
Suddenly, Zoe realized something was off. Peyton had always maintained a frail and gentle persona, like a delicate flower posing no threat whatsoever. So much so that when she weakly apologized, it made people subconsciously believe she was being genuine. But upon closer inspection, piece by piece, the sole beneficiary of every incident was Peyton herself.
Peyton narrowed her eyes, the motion gone in a flash. Tears welled up as she spoke, her voice laced with pain yet unyielding. "Because I can’t lose him."
Zoe almost cursed out loud at the absolute shamelessness. After working in public relations for so many years, she could calmly handle the most idiotic clients and severe PR crises, yet facing Peyton, she nearly lost her composure completely.
Peyton slowly sat up and grasped Zoe’s hands, pleading agonizingly, "We love each other very much. Just consider it... fulfilling his wish, okay?"
Zoe looked down at the hands gripping hers, feeling an almost physical wave of nausea. She furrowed her brows slightly. "I think you’re going about this the wrong way. You shouldn’t be persuading me; you should be persuading Simon. He cares about you so much, so he should listen to you. As long as he nods and agrees to the divorce, I have no objections."
She didn’t know if it was an illusion, but she seemed to detect a shift in Peyton’s aura. A fleeting look of gloom appeared to pass over her otherwise frail face, as if a raw nerve had been struck, sparking her anger. But it vanished in an instant, leaving Zoe unsure if she had seen it correctly.
Brushing Peyton’s hands away, she stood up. "You probably don’t have anything else to say. I’ll be leaving now."
"To be honest, I’m very envious that Grandma is making you drink that medicine," Peyton spoke up suddenly from behind her, her voice now much calmer.
Zoe paused and looked back at her.
The woman leaned against the hospital bed, her hand gently stroking her lower abdomen. The gesture was so brimming with maternal love that Zoe’s heartbeat practically stopped. The hands resting at her sides began to tremble, and she barely suppressed the urge to touch her own stomach.
A second later, Peyton looked at her. Her eyes held a myriad of emotions, primarily a profound sorrow. "If I hadn’t lost my baby that year, they would be almost four years old by now."
Outside the window, the bright sun was shining high. Spring had arrived, with tender green branches showing signs of new life, and a gentle breeze blowing against the windowpanes. It was such a warm and balmy day, yet before Zoe’s eyes, everything seemed to be replaced by an endless expanse of darkness.
She felt as though she had been ruthlessly shoved into the boundless depths of Purgatory. The pain was so agonizing that it felt like her internal organs were being crushed. Her vision instantly clouded over, and she completely forgot how to react.
Peyton had been pregnant... Had she been pregnant with... Simon’s child? Zoe didn’t even have the courage to ask for confirmation. Lifting legs that felt as heavy as lead, she left the hospital room without hesitation, desperate to escape the place that was suffocating her to the point of death.
Watching the door open and close, Peyton slowly lay back down. Her expression remained unchanged, though her eyes were devoid of any superfluous emotion. She continued to stroke her lower abdomen, stroke after stroke—tender, yet... freezing cold.
Not long after rushing out of the ward, Zoe crashed into a solid chest. A man’s sturdy arm wrapped around her lower back, and a deep, stern voice laced with mild reproach rang out, "Running so recklessly without watching where you’re going—aren’t you afraid of falling?"
She looked up. He was as radiant and immaculate as ever, his sheer perfection enough to make anyone’s heart flutter.
Seeing that Zoe wasn’t speaking, Simon narrowed his dark, cool eyes and leaned down to look at her. "What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?"