Alright, Grandma, I understand.
Good. Then you can get back to your work. I won’t disturb you any longer.
Goodbye, Grandma.
Theodore blankly hung up the phone. He weakly leaned against the headboard, his gaze vacant.
The Spencers all cared so much about Rosalie. It was fine, because he cared about Rosalie too.
But she didn’t care about him.
Rosalie cared about everyone-except for him.
He was the one who made foolish mistakes and lost her. He was now facing the consequences. What right did he have to complain?
In Rosalie’s eyes, he was a despised ex-husband, someone who could be discarded at a crucial moment. Their ten years together couldn’t compare to her few months with Sebastian. That was the difference.
She had really fallen for Sebastian. Otherwise, why would she choose him so decisively?
Indeed, Sebastian was now her husband. Sebastian was despicable, but he would take good care of Rosalie because his love for her was real. What use was there for Theodore now?
Theodore looked at the sunlight streaming through the window onto his face, and closed his eyes to feel it. It was really warm.
He threw off the covers, got out of bed, and stumbled toward the beam of light, arriving at the window. With a whoosh, he opened the window, lifted his head, and slowly opened his eyes.
The sunlight was brilliant, the scenery perfect. Trees stood towering in the forest, their treetops swaying gently in the breeze. Leaves fell gracefully to the ground, unhurried and elegant.
The whole world was so peaceful. Despite that, why did people still experience such pain? So much so that they didn’t want to live anymore. Theodore raised a leg and stood on the windowsill, overlooking the scenery outside.
His tall body swayed precariously. It was truly beautiful. Dying amidst this scenery didn’t seem so bad.
Since Rosalie hated him so much and wanted him dead, then he would die. This way, she would be satisfied.
There would be others who would take good care of her. She no longer needed him. He had messed everything up, so what was the point of living?
Theodore stood on the windowsill
for several minutes, reminiscing about the past. He thought about the moments he shared with Rosalie the past ten years.
over
What they experienced together went far beyond being just childhood sweethearts. All the
good and bad, the joys and
sorrows-they had shared countless
precious memories.
He would hold her hand and take her hiking. When she was tired, he would carry her.
He would take her to see the sea, where she would snuggle in his arms, sleeping drowsily, feeling the comfort of the sea breeze.
He would stay still even if his body was numb, all just because he didn’t want to wake her.
Theo, what kind of girl do you like?
That year, Rosalie was fifteen. They were sitting on the rooftop watching the sunset.
That day, the sky was exceptionally beautiful. The sunlight was casting an orange-red glow over Rosalie’s youthful face, making it shine brightly. She looked at him, slightly shy as she asked the question.
Theodore opened a bag of chips for
her and stuffed it into her mouth, as if feeding a curious little pig. Why do you ask? Are you planning to
introduce someone to me?
Rosalie took a bite of the chips, and mumbled quietly, “No. I was just curious.
Before you ask others this question, you should start by telling them about yourself. What kind of guy do you like?
As soon as this was mentioned, Rosalie’s face turned red.
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