"Don't say it." Ayden covered his ears with his palms, with squeezing his eyes shut. With Irene using those words for herself, Ayden felt his heart being slashed multiple times.
"For once and all, let's end this, Ayden because I don't know if you can see it or not but it is beginning to traumatize me now. I can't take it anymore. I beg you. Leave me alone."
"I can't live without you."
"What do you even mean by that? Weren't you living before meeting me? So why can you not live now?"
"I love you. I won't let you go to anyone else," Ayden complained like an adamant child, refusing to give up on his favorite toy.
"Wow. Really?" Irene did not know whether to laugh or cry. Ayden turning obsessive to that extent was like the last thing she had imagined to witness. "You know what, Ayden? Do whatever you want to do because now, honestly, I don't care. You think I have moved on with him? Fair enough. Keep thinking because I don't owe you any explanation anymore."
With that, she turned and began walking away from Ayden toward Ilyan's car after glancing at Ilyan once, as a gesture enough for him to take a walk along with her.
She had already marked the end of their relationship but it seemed like, Ayden was not ready to accept it.
But that day, she had made it very clear that everything had ended from her side.
With every step that she was taking away from Ayden, she was permanently walking away from shackles of her hollow relationship. Ilyan deliberately put quite a lot of distance between them. When he watched her struggling to lift her leg to get in the car, he couldn't lend a hand to her even though he earnestly wished to.
His heart ached to see what she was dealing with but the determination and strength with which she had fought for her self-respect held him back from stepping up to help her.
<>
The nearest hospital was thirty minutes away from where they were but he was sure that he could make it in twenty minutes. They were already on their way.
Minutes of driving with glancing at her silently crying figure sitting on the back seat what was Ilyan had been doing.
He had insisted she take the back seat where she could stretch her leg to be at ease. Despite her constant refusal, he had somehow convinced her. Like the last time she was afraid of touching his hands with her dirty ones, this time she was afraid of spoiling his car.
After his persistent attempts, she had finally given in with the condition that she would pay for cleaning his car and he had agreed to that for he could see no other way of getting her inside.
A fresh stream of tears would roll down her cheeks every two minutes. She had laid her head back on the seat while she sat there, upset to another level by what Ayden had just done.
She did not know this Ayden. He was not the Ayden she had loved.Her heart still wept at the fact that her bleeding feet did not affect him. She could not understand when he became so full of himself. At that moment, all that he was caring about was himself and the things related to himself.
He wanted her for himself.
Not once, not once, he questioned himself about the stunt that he was pulling on her.
Not once, not once, he thought about where it would lead to her.
Not once, not once he considered that perhaps he should not do it because it would hurt her.
Not once.
She was making no attempts to wipe her tears. That day, she had been pushed beyond she could take.
Ilyan's lips would part every few seconds but he could not bring himself to utter a word to her. He struggled to come up with a coherent line that could make her feel better.
Perhaps, letting her be with herself for a while was the best at that moment, he told himself.
"We are here," he whispered, turning his head to her after he parked the car in the hospital parking. "Would you like me to help you get down?"
"No, I am fine." She denied, wiping her cheeks dry, to hide any visibly remained traces of her woes.
"I don't mind carrying you inside if you can't walk. I mean, that looks bad. That must be hurting." He was not really going to put that thought in words but failed to resist the urge looking at how awful her bloodied feet looked.
"Irene?" He called out her name when she did not respond. Her body, though present there, but her mind was wandering somewhere else.
With his voice, she got out of her reverie, and weakly shook her head. "It's okay."
His fingers went back to his hair, as he got his mind to work with what he could possibly do. Just as he was trying to come up with a solution to help her without making her awkward, his eyes fell upon at the entrance of the hospital.
What caught his attention was not the person but the empty black wheelchair that was being wheeled.
How could he be so stupid? How did he not think about it earlier?
"Just wait a moment. Don't step out." And just to make sure that she would not get out and follow him without listening, he locked the doors after he stepped out.
"Hey," she said, "I don't always retaliate. You didn't have to that." She was loud enough to be audible to him. He flashed a grin, tilting his head back before he dashed inside, toward reception.