A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

In the silence of the hospital room, Matilda’s eyes flickered open, greeted by a blur of dim light that gradually cleared into a coherent world.

She took in her surroundings until the door creaked open, and a figure walked in, snapping her back to reality.

Yvan stood at the threshold, his expression a twisted tapestry of emotions that flickered across his face before dying in the depths of his dark eyes.

Matilda stared numbly at him, wordless. She had imagined countless scenarios for a reunion with an old flame–the world was cruelly small, and those you’ve loved deeply had a way of resurfacing. But never had she envisioned Yvan standing before her like this.

In a manner so brutally final, he thrust her back into the abyss of despair.

Sensing her silence meant she had no desire to speak, Yvan cleared his throat awkwardly from the doorway. “You’re awake.”

Matilda gave him a frosty glance, remaining silent.

He stepped forward, lifting her chin with a firm grip, and as he met her sc

unexpected pang of pain twisted in his chest.

“Playing the silent game with me?” he sneered, a cold smile playing on his lips. “Matida, I should’ve ended you five years ago. The fact that you’re still breathing is a stroke of luck on

your part.”

Her laughter rang out, sharp and clear, in response to his words. “Oh, how generous of you to spare this wretched life of mine!”

“You feel wronged?” Yvan’s mocking tone matched hers.

“Wronged about what?” Matilda’s eyes narrowed, her frailty masked by the lethal sharpness in her gaze, brilliant even now.

Under her piercing stare, Yvan felt a crushing inability to breathe.

Matilda’s smile was radiant, a fleeting beauty that seemed to strip color from the world. “Yan shouldn’t I be thanking you? You shattered my life five years ago, and now you’re after my life again! I must have committed some grave sin in a past life to be so thoroughly ruined by your

Yvan’s grip tightened as she spoke, “What excuse are you trying to scrape together for yourself? Rachel’s death—”

“What if Rachel’s death had nothing to do with me? Her laughter was maniacal a sign of someone with nothing left to lose, backed into a comer. She shouted at him. “Ivan, just answer me this–if Rachel’s death had nothing to do with me, will you ever be able to settle the debt you owe me in this lifetime?”

The question seemed to strike Yvan like a physical blow as his grip loosened, and he stumbled back incredulous. “What did you say?” Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org exclusive © material.

Matilda’s voice dropped to a whisper as it her earlier defiance had exhausted her “Yvan i don’t hate you anymore. I think you’re pitiful enough that it doesn’t matter whether I hate you or not

When she looked up, the love that once filled her eyes for him was replaced by a void, consumed by the hatred of tive years past.

Yvan laughed bitterly in response, his rage making him all the more striking a man with the kind of looks that could drive a city of women mad.

Five years ago, she had been one of them, recklessly throwing herself towards his flame only to be destroyed and not even receiving a sliver of sympathy in return.

Matilda shook her head, a self–mocking gesture. “I have no regrets, no hatred, Just five years in jail. Now that I’m out, I’m still alive and kicking. Without you, I still breathe”

“Go ahead, dig up the past, Yvan,” she challenged him.

As she lifted her head, the tierceness in her eyes reminded him of the proud heiress of the Thompson family she once was–her family may have fallen, but her pride was unscathed.

Matilda’s lips curled into a defiant smile as she addressed Yvan, “Let me zou, I don’t scored knocking over Rachel’s urn in front of everyone. She brought ruin to my family, pinned a com upon me, and for a dead person, I endured torture and humiliation in prison for five long years! Lucky she was dead, for smashing her urn was nothing! If she were alive, I’d scatter her ashes

to the winds!”

“You dare!” Yvan exploded, his hand whipping out to strike Matilda’s cheek, his voice trembling, “Matilda! You dare! How can you even utter such words?”

The slap forced no tears from her, but instead, a brighter, more terrifying smile spread across her face like a stunning poppy in full bloom.

“Yes! I dare! A dead person has made my life unbearable. Yvan, had you ever considered my perspective for even a moment, you wouldn’t have let me become what I am now! I tell you, I have no

regrets about what I did to her, and I just fear the day you learn the truth–that Rachel’s death had nothing to do with me–you’ll hate yourself!”