Chapter 4
A large wedding photograph hung on the wall. Emily, in a strapless wedding gown, stood close to Jenson. Their noses nearly touched as they gazed into each other's eyes; they looked deeply in love.
Jenson hurried in from the living room. "Estie, you should rest in the guest room. Emily hasn't been feeling well, and this bedroom gets the best sunlight, so I thought it would be better for her to stay here..." His eyes fell on the wedding photo. He froze briefly before continuing, "This was just to appease her family. They were pressuring her to marry."
Their marriage certificate was a formality; the wedding photos, merely for show. Meeting Estella's cold gaze, Jenson felt a sudden panic and instinctively reached for her arm. "Don't overthink it, Estie. I just—"
She stepped away. "Don't touch me."
This was the first time Estella had resisted him in their six years together. Jenson's chest tightened. He was about to explain when Emily rushed in, trembling. "Ms. Hart, please don't fight with Jenson. It's my fault. I shouldn't have moved in. I'll leave right now."
Jenson stopped her. "This has nothing to do with you."
Tears streamed down Emily's face. "Jenson, you've already done so much for me. I can't let you upset Ms. Hart because of me. Maybe this is my fate. Maybe I'm being punished for past mistakes. I accept it."
Her tear-filled eyes and fragile voice struck Jenson. Gently, he reassured her, "Don't worry. As long as I'm here, no one can force you into marriage. And Estie isn't upset over this. You don't have to go anywhere. Just stay."
Watching, Estella chuckled softly. "Why should I be upset? After all, this is your home now." She turned and walked out.
Emily sobbed delicately. "Is Ms. Hart angry?"
Jenson didn't answer. Estella's words shocked him. He rushed after her, grabbing her wrist. "What do you mean, this is her home now? Emily's being forced into marriage and harassed by a stranger. I'm just trying to help her! You're a woman too. Can't you have a little empathy? Do you really have to throw a jealous tantrum at a time like this?"
Shattering glass echoed from the bedroom. Jenson's expression paled. He shoved Estella aside and rushed inside. "Emily! What are you doing?" His voice was panicked.
Emily knelt on the floor, a long gash on her wrist. Tears streamed down her pale face. "Just leave me alone. No one in this world cares about me. If my death makes Ms. Hart happy, then at least I'll have done something right."
Jenson took the shard from her hand, pressing on the wound to stop the bleeding. He whirled to glare at Estella. "Estella! Are you satisfied now? Do you feel no guilt? No wonder people call you heartless. Even when your father died, you didn't shed a single tear. How could someone as cold and selfish as you ever care about another person's life?"
His words hit Estella like a hammer. Her hands trembled; her body went cold. Her childhood had been filled with alcohol and her drunken father's bruises. When he died unexpectedly, she hadn't cried. Relatives called her ungrateful, heartless. For years, those words had been a buried wound, reopening at every mention. Jenson had comforted her until she'd let it go. But now, he was reopening the wound. Whatever love she had for him drained away.
"Jenson, I never said she couldn't stay, and I never threw a tantrum. I avoided you because I have a severe seafood allergy."
Jenson noticed the angry red rash spreading across her wrist where he'd grabbed her. He recalled his own words; guilt swept through him. "Estie, I—"
Emily clenched her teeth, struggling to rise. "Don't stop me, Jenson. Just let me die." More blood oozed from her wound.
Jenson no longer cared to comfort Estella. He scooped Emily up and rushed out. "I won't let anything happen to you. Let's go to the hospital now!"
Estella stood unmoving as they disappeared.