Chapter 3

Roxanne's POV: Silas held Megan in his arms in a protective manner. I opened my mouth to speak but found myself unable to utter a single word. Tears finally blurred my vision. I realized I could no longer see the 18-year-old boy I knew in the man standing before me. Silas turned away from me and marched out the front door with Megan in his arms. "Would you still treat me this way if I told you I was about to die, Silas?" I asked. He didn't look back when he answered, "If death is what can make you stop this foolishness once and for all, then you might as well drop dead." I collapsed onto the floor, instantly losing all strength in my limbs. Ha! So that was how much Silas wished me dead, huh? He never returned home after that day. I didn't mind it at all. I just prepared a checklist for my funeral and posthumous affairs. I went to have my funeral portrait taken and bought the last set of clothes I would ever buy in this life. After a few days of waiting, I went to retrieve the portrait upon receiving the photographer's message. A wave of emotions swelled within me as I gazed at myself in the portrait. I was about to head home when I bumped into Silas and Megan after turning a corner. "What are you doing here? Are you following me?" Silas asked. I didn't want to argue with him. My stomach was starting to hurt again. All I wanted to do was to hurry and leave. "Mr. Huntington, Mrs. Huntington seems to have come here to get her photos taken," Megan said, reaching out to grab my portrait. I hurriedly stepped back. "It seems like Mrs. Huntington doesn't want us to look," Megan said in a meaningful tone even as an aggrieved look appeared on her face. "With how secretive she's being, one might just think she's hiding something from us." Silas' expression changed subtly as he gazed at the portrait. "What on earth are you hiding?" My pain was starting to worsen. I didn't want to interact with them further, but Silas gripped my wrist to stop me from leaving. His gaze was filled with suspicion and disgust as he looked at me. But I no longer felt hurt by such a look anymore. "It's none of your business," I said, flinging his hand away. But Silas managed to grab onto the side of the frame. As I struggled to pull the portrait back, it accidentally fell on the ground. My funeral portrait was thus revealed for all to see. "Oh? Why is it in black and white?" Megan pretended to act surprised even as the corner of her lips curled up slightly. I gazed at the portrait on the ground, defeatedly accepting my fate. It seemed that Silas had still found out. Would he feel any ounce of regret? Would he regret having treated me so horribly near the end of my life? "So this is what you've been trying to hide from me?" Silas' cool and composed voice rang out. His expression darkened, though there wasn't the slightest bit of pain or regret in it. "What? Are you actually planning to kill yourself?" The man who used to get so worried about me all because I had a cough was now suspecting me of using death as a way to cause a scene. What was more pathetic was that I'd actually had a sliver of hope that he'd react differently. I chuckled lightly. "Why not? I can't wait to see the look of regret on your face when it happens." "Go to hell, then!" Silas knocked into me as he stormed off without looking back. I fell onto the ground, unable to support myself any longer. The onlookers gasped in fright. Megan hurriedly came over to help me up. As she held onto my arm, she leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "Do you see that? Things won't change even if you die. Silas doesn't love you anymore." I flung her hand off with my remaining strength, something Silas happened to witness. "Don't bother with Roxanne," he said coldly to Megan. "She's used this trick countless times now. If she wants to put on an act so badly, then let her!" I only managed to reach home with the help of some kind onlookers. After taking a painkiller, the pain in my abdomen began to subside. I lay on the couch, utterly exhausted. I covered my eyes with my hand as Silas' words echoed repeatedly in my ears. "Go to hell, then!" I recalled how I'd gotten terribly ill one winter many years ago. My condition had been so grave that the doctor had released several emergency warnings in response. We didn't have a lot of money at the time, so Silas had gone knocking on his family's and friends' doors in order to borrow some for my treatment. Silas had been so utterly humiliated and looked down on during that time. I pitied him and didn't want to become a burden to him, so I stubbornly refused to take my medicine or get any treatments. Silas ended up kneeling before me in the hospital. I still recalled the sight of him—a six-foot-tall man—on his knees and holding my hands as he begged tearfully, "Please, Roxanne. Please, I beg you—please take the medicine." Yet, Silas was the one who most wanted to see me dead right now. I gazed at the calendar on the wall and saw that there were barely any days left until the end of my one-month life expectancy period. Good thing Silas' wish was about to come true.