Love, Lies and Legacy

#While returning home from a late-night shift, I was knocked down by a delivery rider.

The girl riding it was deaf and mute, looking no older than a teenager.

I couldn’t bring myself to make things difficult for her, so I paid for the medical expenses at the hospital on my own.

Limping back home, I saw a familiar delivery helmet lying at the doorway.

From inside, laughter echoed through the walls.

“She’s such a fool. I was just pretending but she believed it anyway.”

While returning home from a late-night shift, I was struck by a delivery rider.

The girl who hit me was deaf and mute, looking no older than a teenager.

I couldn’t bring myself to make things hard for her, so I went to the hospital alone and paid for the medical expenses myself.

Limping back home, I noticed a familiar delivery helmet lying by the door.

From inside, mocking laughter spilled into the hallway.

“She’s such a fool. I was just pretending but she believed it anyway.”

…

“Aren’t you afraid she’s standing at the door, listening to us?”

“Even if she heard, she wouldn’t break up with me.”

Nicholas Poldark’s voice carried clearly past the door frame.

“Break up? When I was in the hospital bed, Beatrix clung to me, insisting on taking care of me. Even my mom couldn’t chase her away.

“She had a wretched childhood so she’ll never leave me!”

I froze in disbelief. Without thinking, I pushed the door open slightly and caught a glimpse of the scene inside.

A young woman dressed in a delivery rider uniform gently fed Nicholas a grape with her own hands.

Then she kissed him on the cheek.

“Darling, it’s late. I’m heading out.”

My hands trembled as I retreated to the stairwell, the sharp pain from my freshly injured hand shooting through me.

The thawed grapes trailed water droplets on the ground.

A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me.

Nicholas had told me he loved eating grapes after they’d been frozen.

So, after leaving the hospital, I endured the pain and stopped by Hanson Mart to buy some for him.

I never imagined he had already been enjoying them—with someone else.

Nicholas was my boyfriend. For three years, he had been in a comatose state, and I had cared for him all that time.

The doctor once explained that comatose patients fall into two categories: those with awareness and those without.

Nicholas likely belonged to the latter.

When he finally woke up, his gaze at me was distant and unfamiliar.

It wasn’t until his mother introduced me that a peculiar expression crossed his face.

“So, you’re my girlfriend? Well, you’re not bad-looking.”

I struggled to adjust to the Nicholas who had woken up.

Nicholas had graduated from university three years ago. He worked tirelessly, determined to build a home that belonged to both of us.

But during a business meeting, a client assaulted him, leaving him in a coma.

The client had influence in both legal and dubious circles, and ordinary citizens like Nicholas and me had no business interacting with them.

At the time, Nicholas’s mother was unemployed.

So, I took on the burden of his medical expenses and provided for his mother’s daily needs.

Yet, I was labeled as shamelessly desperate and clingy.

A slow, burning anger rose in my heart.

My nose felt warm, and my vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes.

I took a deep breath and brushed away the droplets hanging from my lashes.

Crying for a man like him was not worth it.

After collecting myself, I pushed the door open.

As I walked through the hallway, I saw Nicholas already lying in bed, idly scrolling through his phone.

I used to worry about the health of his eyes, always reminding him to take breaks. But my concern was rewarded with scorn and insults.

Ha. What a waste of effort—if he goes blind, it was no concern of mine.

I shuffled over to the dining table and placed the grapes on top.

Then, I retreated to my bedroom.

Nicholas and I slept in separate rooms.

I didn’t own much—just two blankets, two pairs of shoes, two sets of clothes for each season, and some makeup or skincare products.

With a few other items here and there, I could pack everything into one suitcase and a backpack.

Then there was a knock on the door.

I glanced in the mirror, making sure there were no traces of tears on my face.

Nicholas stood there, wearing a crisp white shirt and leaning lazily against the doorframe. In his hand, he held a bowl of grapes.

“Here. I know you like them, so I washed these just for you,” he said.

But I knew the truth—it was the other woman who had cleaned them.

I scoffed silently and stared at him.

Nicholas grew irritated when I didn’t take the bowl.

“What’s with that look? I’m planning to start working tomorrow so that I won’t be freeloading off you anymore.”

“Congratulations,” I replied coolly.

His brows furrowed as he studied me. “Why do you look like a ghost today? Did someone upset you?”

Then his gaze dropped to my hand.

“Wait—what happened to your hand? How did you get hurt?”