15
That night, Derek sent me a picture. His wrist
was bloody.
“Lily, I can’t live without you. If you don’t
come back, I’ll kill myself.”
“The amnesia was a lie, but I couldn’t control
my love for you. I was young and stupid. Can
you forgive me?”
I found it laughable. “Derek, do you believe in
past lives? Last time, you destroyed me. You
lived well without me. Wealthy, happy.”
He didn’t understand. He called, his voice
hoarse. “Lily, what are you saying? Past lives?
What nonsense? You don’t need that excuse
to reject me!”
I hung up. He went crazy, self–harming, sending pictures and videos. Blood covered
his bathroom. He begged, acting like the one
who’d suffered.
I contacted Derek’s mother and blocked his
numper.
A week later, I heard Derek was in the ER,
critical. Grant Industries was struggling, the
stock plummeting. Derek’s mother and Alex
came to me, haggard and pleading.
“Lily, Derek knows he’s wrong. He needs you.
Please see him, even for a moment… He
refuses treatment.”
Alex sobbed. “Mom… I’m sorry. Forgive Dad.
Let’s be a family again.”
I shook my head. “Derek and I are over. His
treatment isn’t my responsibility. And you,
Alex, I don’t need your apology. I won’t go
back.”
