Chapter 312
After a three-day stay in R City, Brett returned to find that the fire-ravaged vi had been renovated.
The fire had been fierce, leaving nothing but ashes on the first floor. The second floor fared better,
with some important items remaining. He trudged up the stairs to the bedroom he once shared with
Izabe.
Opening drawers carelessly, everything remained untouched. Whether it was the clothes in the
wardrobe, the skincare products on the vanity table, or the jewelry in the jewelry box, it was all as if
nothing had changed.
He opened a safe, pulling out a few envelopes. These were the promises he wrote when Izabe
lost her memory.
—"I, Brett, promise not to be jealous, to give my wife freedom, to respect her, to take care of her, to
trust her, to love and spoil her all my life. I, Brett, will be generous and magnanimous from now on."
Clutching the envelopes to his chest, the cold promises were a harsh reminder of his failures. How
could he had forgotten so quickly the vows he made to Izabe and the promises he wrote?
"I''m a total screw-up! I don''t deserve to be called a human!" Brett pped himself hard, berating
himself as he did.
His cries echoed through the silent room. The promises he wrote were like a floodgate of sorrow,
gushing out uncontrobly.
He got up and found a toolbox, pulling out a pair of pliers. He mped it onto his own fingernails
and yanked upwards, tearing them off and causing blood to gush out. Despite the pain, he moved
onto another finger, his hand trembling as he held the pliers. What a pathetic sight, a grown man
resorting to self-harm in the face of adversity. But with Izabe gone, nothing else mattered.
After tearing off all the nails from his left hand, the blood-stained pliers were tossed aside. He
grabbed a knife, stabbing it into his own leg repeatedly, until his pants were soaked with blood.
But it wasn''t enough. He wanted to experience the pain Izabe went through, to punish himself.
But he knew that this pain was nothingpared to hers.
Liam, who had moved into the vi and was monitoring Brett through the security cameras, saw
what happened and rushed into Brett''s room.
Patrick had secretly instructed him to provoke Brett, to keep him alive. Seeing Brett''s pathetic state,
Liam didn''t know what to say to provoke him.
At the hospital, as the doctor tended to Brett''s wounds, Liam said seriously, "President Windham,
she wanted you to live a long life, not to hurt yourself like this."
Brett didn''t wince when the alcohol and iodine were sprayed on his wounds, but when Liam
mentioned Izabe, he winced in pain.
"She''s punishing me," he said helplessly. "She knew how painful it would be for me to lose her. She
wanted me to live till I''m old."
He looked around nkly, forcing a smile, but tears soon flowed down his face. "Tell me, what can I
do to make her happy?"
After a moment of silence, Liam replied, "You have to live."
Brett nodded, and his face remained expressionless as tears fell from his eyes. "Alright, I''ll live... as
she wished. Don''t worry, I won''t let anything happen to me."
But how long would he have to live?
...
At the hospital, there was a childbirth simtor. Many men were trying it out.
Brett remembered Izabe''s words in the hospital when she lost their first child. Back then, Amelia
had suggested he try the simtor to experience the pain of childbirth. He had scoffed at the idea,
thinking it was ridiculous to want to experience what women go through during childbirth.
But now, he found himself at the front of the line, listening to the agonizing screams of the men.
He watched as a man who had beenughing just moments ago started convulsing in pain at level
seven, begging for the machine to be turned off.
After the machine was turned off, the man was drenched in cold sweat, his face pale as he clutched
his stomach and left. This deterred many of the men in line behind Brett, but Brett sat down without
hesitation.
The pain levels of the simtor went up to twelve, and Brett endured it all, feeling as if he was
being torn apart from the inside.
He leaned forward, crying silently, his tears tasting like bitter medicine.
The staff quickly turned off the machine, shocked at Brett''s endurance. "Sir, are you okay? Do you
need a doctor?"
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Brett opened his eyes,ughing through his tears. "So... this is the pain she went through... no
wonder she didn''t want to hang on..."
...
"What''s the mister doing? Why is he crying his eyes out?" A little boy, clutching his mom''s hand,
curiously pointed in the distance.
His voice was loud enough to reach Brett through the crowd.
The woman quickly squatted down, gripping her son''s hand and covering his mouth, exining, "He
is experiencing a pain only girls go through."
The boy asked in confusion, "Do girls really suffer that much?"
"Yes, that''s why I hope girls are treated kindly in this world. Son, when you grow up and meet
someone you like, treat her well and hold on tight because not everyone is lucky enough to stay
with the person they like."
Brett was hunched over, leaning on the birthing simtor rail, sobbing and retching. His left hand
was wrapped in a bandage, now stained with blood, tinging his eyelids pink.
Held tight to the one you loved, otherwise you might not be so lucky next time.
— He couldn''t hold on to Izabe.
They said love was often tragic, vows were often lies, and in the end, someone was always waiting
for someone who would never return.
Some people said if you dream of someone three times, that meant your fate with them had ended.
So, Izabe was someone he wanted to dream about but didn''t dare to.
Brett''s stomach problems got worse; sometimes so bad he couldn''t sleep. Curled up in his cold bed,
his usually sharp mind became foggy.
He clutched his aching stomach, reaching out to the other side of the bed, murmuring in confusion,
"Izabe, are you in pain? Let me warm your tummy..."
Brett loved Izabe. After her death, he split in two, one part bing her, pretending they were
still together.
......
There was an online article about understanding death, saying people die three times.
The first time was when they stopped breathing, they died biologically.
The second time was when they were buried, people attended their funeral, remembering their life,
they died socially.
The third time was when thest person who remembered them forgot about them, that was when
they truly died.
Izabe had already died twice, she didn''t know when she would die for the third time. She hovered
in mid-air...