She remembered how she used to stay up until dawn to finish design drafts, falling asleep at her desk. Liam would gently cover her with a blanket, carefully tidying up the scattered manuscripts, not wanting to mess up even a single line. He said, "Niannian, this is your dream, and it's my pride too."
But now, her dreams have been torn apart and trampled upon, yet he only cares whether the perpetrator has been frightened.
Those manuscripts weren't just scraps of paper. They represented seven years of her youth, her overflowing love, and the hope that kept her going.
"Waste paper?" Clara repeated the word softly, a faint, blood-tinged smile slowly curving her lips. "In your eyes, everything I am is just waste paper?"
Liam's heart skipped a beat at her laughter, but he was quickly overwhelmed by impatience. Looking at the blood on Clara's forehead, he found it both irritating and troublesome: "If you keep causing trouble, get out of this house!"
Get out.
These three words were like the last straw, crushing the last vestige of hope in her heart.
Clara slowly lowered her hand from her forehead, letting the blood slide down her cheeks and drip onto the scraps of paper on the floor, spreading into glaring red blushes. She didn't cry, didn't make a fuss, and didn't even glance at Liam and Vanessa again. She simply supported herself on the floor and slowly stood up.
Her movements were slow, but exceptionally determined.
My gaze swept over the shredded paper scattered on the floor—all those countless sleepless nights, those sweet words hidden in the designs, those promises that I thought would witness eternity, all shattered, shattered completely.
Seven years of love burned to ashes the moment the manuscript shattered, leaving not even a trace of warmth.
Clara looked at Liam's blurry silhouette, her voice calm and utterly emotionless , "Fine , don't come back begging me. "
After saying that, she turned around and walked out of the study step by step. She didn't look back, nor did she linger.
Back in the second bedroom, she locked the door behind her, shutting out everything outside. Blood was still flowing from her forehead, but she seemed oblivious to the pain. She skillfully took out iodine and gauze from the bedside table drawer and began to bandage herself.