I Prepared Our Wedding, For His Another Bride Chapter 08

I Prepared Our Wedding, For His Another Bride Chapter 08

I twisted my head away, refusing to meet his gaze any longer. “What’s over is over. There’s no point

rehashing it.”

I sipped a glass of water and spoke evenly. “You should leave now and give yourself time to clear your head.”

Cyrus stood motionless for several seconds. I heard him exhale quietly, like he’d swallowed back a flood of

unspoken words.

Then his footsteps drifted toward the door; the doorknob twisted once, then clicked shut. The room fell

silent again.

“Fine. I’ll go, for you.”

He kept his word and didn’t return for the next few days. He only sent a handful of text messages, all of

which I swiped past without opening.

His final message read: [I’ve prepared a surprise for you.]

I locked my phone screen and ignored it entirely.

The morning I checked out, I finished filling out paperwork at the front desk. My pen lifted off the paper after signing my name on the last line.

A clinic helper carried my packed bag to the entrance for me, and I thanked her before stepping outside.

Cyrus leaned against the side of his car, twisting his set of keys over and over between his fingers.

He stopped fidgeting the second he spotted me and stepped forward. “Elowen.”

I didn’t pause, walking straight down the front steps.

He hurried after me, his steps rushed. “This area’s pretty isolated. Let me drive you home-I’ll drop you off

right at your building entrance, nothing more, I promise.”

I opened my mouth to turn him down, but his voice dropped to a quiet, defeated murmur. “Just this one time.

I won’t say a single unnecessary word.”

I stopped on the bottom step and scanned the empty street; not a single other vehicle was in sight. After a moment’s hesitation, I agreed.

The second I pulled open the passenger door, a cloyingly sweet perfume flooded my nostrils.

Glancing into the backseat, I saw Bianca leaning against the window, holding a small compact mirror and

reapplying her lipstick.

She lifted her eyes to meet mine through the mirror’s reflection and tugged on a simpering smile. “Got out of

the clinic at last, Elowen?”

My fingers froze wrapped around the car door handle.

Cyrus circled around the front of the car to open the driver’s side door, glancing back at me with a hopeful

grin, as if waiting for my approval.

“I brought Bianca along to welcome you home. I thought the two of you could talk things through and clear

up all the misunderstandings.”

“I won’t be getting in the car, then. We’re done here.” I stepped back half a pace.

Bianca snapped her powder compact shut with a sharp crack. She leaned out the back window, giving a

theatrical pout.

“Elowen… are you still mad at me? I only came to celebrate you being discharged…”

Cyrus stopped twisting his keychain. He shot a sharp glance at Bianca, then turned back to me, his jaw tight

with frustration.

“Listen to me, just give me a minute to explain.”

He stepped half a step closer, lifting one empty hand before dropping it back to his side.

“What Bianca and I have isn’t what you think. I brought her here so she could apologize and set everything

straight.”

I refused to look at him.

He closed the remaining distance between us, his voice thick and heavy. “Can’t you bring yourself to believe

me even a little?”

I walked straight past him toward the clinic steps.

Cyrus stood frozen for two full seconds, then rushed to the back door and wrenched it open. “Can’t you even apologize and explain yourself properly?!”

Bianca flinched at his cold, sharp tone, her voice hesitant when she spoke. She crossed her arms over her chest, her expression still sharp and entitled.

But Cyrus didn’t coddle her like he always had before.

He reached in, grabbed her wrist hard, and lowered his voice sharply. “Get out of the car. Find your own way

home.”

Bianca stumbled when he pulled her out, her heels scraping against the pavement.

Cyrus let go of her instantly and strode back to me, one hand wrapping gently around my elbow to steer me

toward the passenger seat.

“Get in. If you don’t want to see her, you won’t have to.”

He helped me into the front seat and slammed the door shut.

In the rearview mirror, Bianca stood rooted to the sidewalk, panic flooding her face.

She hiked up her gown and chased the car a few steps, shouting something I couldn’t hear through the glass. I could only watch her mouth move soundlessly.

Her small white figure shrank smaller and smaller in the mirror, vanishing entirely once we rounded a bend.

Cyrus never glanced back. Both hands gripped the steering wheel tight, his knuckles bleached white from the

strain.

The only sound filling the silent car was the soft hum of the air conditioning, as if none of the confrontation

with Bianca had ever happened.