?Chapter 1686:


    William let out a short, mockingugh. So she thought he was being irrational. “Then who isn’t?” he shot back. “That guy? He’s young, right? No memory problems, no bipr disorder. Fine — go to him. Why keep torturing yourself by staying here with me?”


    Consumed by jealousy and possessive fury, the words pouring from his mouth sounded foreign even to himself — reckless, stripped of all restraint.


    Ste’s tone softened, heavy with exhaustion. “I’ve never med you for being sick. You’re the one who keeps shutting me out, over and over again.”


    His reply was cold. “Ste, if living here wears you down, if being with me feels like suffering, then leave. I told you to get out a long time ago. You’re the one who chose to stay, clinging on without dignity.”


    Those wordsnded like a crushing blow, shattering what little hope she had left. She stared at him, her chest aching as though something inside her was being torn apart. Before Arlo had taken him away, she never could have imagined he would say something so cruel.


    She drew in a slow breath and spoke with unsettling calm. “William, being ill doesn’t give you the right to hurt people again and again. So what is it now? You’re tired of me, and you want to be with Alisha instead. Is that it?”


    William stiffened. The pounding in his head intensified, rage wing at his senses.


    Instinctively, he reached out to seize her arm — but Ste stepped back at once, several paces away. “Are you going to hit me again?”


    She emphasized the word “again.”


    William’s eyes dropped to her arm, where the wound had healed but a faint scar still lingered. That moment had reyed itself in his dreams over and over — the instant shattered porcin cut into her delicate wrist, blood flowing freely, flooding his sight in blinding red.


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    Ste held his eyes and slowly lifted her arm. “The doctor said there would be a scar. The nurse tried tofort me. But I told her it didn’t matter — because it was you.”


    Ste was a woman too. An additional scar on her body was not something she could simply overlook or pretend didn’t matter. The only reason she had forced herself not to care was because the person responsible was William.


    She raised her head, her eyes shimmering with restrained anguish. “So this time, where are you nning to hurt me? My knee? My ankle? My neck? Or do you have somewhere else in mind?”


    William’s eyes fell on the scar, and it felt as though something unseen had mped tightly around his chest. An apology pressed against his lips, but the words refused toe. They lodged in his throat, heavy and suffocating — as if saying them aloud would break himpletely.


    Ste studied his expression, yet there was nofort to be found in it. If this carried on, she knew neither of them would walk away unscathed.


    In the end, she chose to yield first, hoping it might calm him, even temporarily. “William, I—”


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