Trouble in Paradise



Chapter 0582

Nicholas seemned drained as if all his strength had been sucked out of him. I gave a light push, and it was effortless to slip out of his embrace.

As I reached the door, I glanced back at him. He was staring at the scattered paper on the floor, not even noticing the paper bits that had fallen on his head.

A wave of sadness washed over me, an emotion I couldn't hide. The helplessness I once felt now seemed like a painful memory, the kind that felt like a suffocating force that destroyed everything in its path.

I understood that feeling of isolation all too well, and I knew what I had sacrificed to survive. Compared to what he once gave me, it seemed insignificant. Besides, this punishment was long overdue, and it wasn't nearly enough.

Nicholas suddenly looked up, his face twisted in a pained expression that made it impossible to read his eyes.

"Why won't you listen to my explanation? I didn't do it. I would never hurt you or joke about your safety."

He didn't understand. His voice was hoarse and choked.

"Even if you don't trust me, don't you trust the police? Why won't you even look at the evidence? It's in black and white, and you still insist I did it? Ariana, this isn't fair to me."

I stared into his eyes as he vented his frustrations. But the way I distanced myself and the way I acted as though everything was insignificant only seemed to amplify the pain on his face.

Was this really all it took to break him? If he truly wanted to understand, he should go back to the past and search for the answers-if he was willing to.

I turned away, not saying a word. Who did this didn't matter anymore. What mattered was that there was nothing left to say between us.

Nicholas stared blankly in the direction I had gone. He felt that no matter what he did, it was all meaningless.

He slammed his fist onto the desk, sending a few pieces of paper flying. He felt numb, unable to regain any sense of feeling for a long time.

I thought distancing myself from Nicholas would bring some peace, but that night, it seemed like the whole world was searching for me. Everyone I encountered seemed to utter his name. "Nicholas..."

"Mr. Hawk..."

1/3

"Mrs. Hawk..."NôvelD(ram)a.ôrg owns this content.

The mention of his name made my headache worse. He had drunk too much in the study, caught a fever, and his drunk personality had worsened. Even a few people couldn't hold him down.

"Ari, please go check on Mr. Hawk. This isn't right. He hasn't even recovered from his fever. How can he treat his body like this? It's just reckless."

I looked calmly at Wendy, who urged me to care. But there was an undeniable bitterness in my heart, and my eyes grew moist.

Shouldn't I be the one making a scene? Coral Villa wasn't even my home, yet I was trapped here. Why should I care about him?

I was too afraid to fall sick again. I feared that if I did, I wouldn't even be able to see Tabitha.

If it weren't for that, who wouldn't want to vent all their frustrations? I was suffering too. I wanted to drink away my pain!

Wendy saw my distress and sighed as she left.

"Ari, I know you're soft-hearted. Even if it were a stranger who was sick and drinking, you'd try to talk to them.

"You've been together for five years, with more than a decade of feelings between you. I just want the best for both of you. But ask yourself, deep down-if something happens to him, will you be happy?"

I lay in bed, restless and unable to sleep. Worrying I might disturb Tabitha, I threw on a coat and went to sit in the living room.

The night was chilly, and I curled up on the couch, hugging myself. Yet, it felt like I could still hear the sound of a bottle rolling on the floor, making me uneasy.

When I finally snapped out of my thoughts, I found myself at the study door. Nicholas was leaning against the wall, and above him hung a large frame--but it was empty.

It had once held our wedding photo. He had replaced the frame, but the photo was long gone. Now, it remained empty. He was drunk, mumbling to himself.

"Give me back the photo. Give me back my wife. Ariana... Ariana..."

The Nicholas I once knew loved tea, and his smile was as refreshing as a breeze after a clear rain. But in just a few years, that person had become a stranger in my memories.

Now, someone told me that the man holding the bottle, broken and lost, was the real Nicholas. It would be a lie to say my heart didn't ache.