?Chapter 150:


    After leaving the hospital, Belinda invited Fred to a nearby restaurant.


    As they settled into their seats, Belinda handed Fred his phone with a grateful smile. “Thanks for earlier. Without your help, those people wouldn’t have cleared out so quickly, and I’d still be unaware of the negative news spreading online.”


    Belinda’s phone had been broken, so she hadn’t been able to catch up on the news or trending topics. Without Fred’s intervention, she would have remained oblivious.


    “Why are you thanking me?” Fred asked, epting his phone. “I wondered why you hadn’t replied to my messages. It makes sense now. Your phone was broken.”


    Belinda’s brow furrowed in surprise. “You sent me messages?”


    “Yeah,” Fred replied with a shrug. “I saw when Kristopher brought you into the hospital. He looked quite furious. I was really worried, so I sent a few messages, but got no response.”


    He sighed, his expression a mix of concern and sadness, much like a dejected puppy. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk to me anymore, so I stopped texting. Later, when I saw themotion they caused on the second floor that got you involved…”


    Fred trailed off, taking a thoughtful sip of his coffee. “And your ex-husband… Miss Miller left him when he was down and out. Now that he’s sessful again, she reappears. Why doesn’t he resent her? Instead, he’s leaving you to go back to her?”


    Fred’s confusion was evident. He couldn’t make sense of it.


    Belinda gently sipped her coffee, her words thoughtful. “Maybe it’s just favoritism. He tolerates everything about her because he loves her.”


    Previously, Belinda had believed that Kristopher was detached from emotions and love, always maintaining a lukewarm demeanor toward her. However, everything changed when Cathy returned to the country. It dawned on Belinda that Kristopher wasn’t devoid of emotional depth or the capacity to show preference. He simply didn’t love her.<fn26ec> ???s ??????? ?s ?????? ?? find·novel</fn26ec>


    “Belinda…”


    Fred looked up, his expression one of sheer surprise. “Aren’t you sad?”


    “It’s been a long while since I felt sad,” she replied quietly.


    Belinda replied, lifting her cup and gently blowing on the coffee to cool it. “Life is full of pursuits. Dwelling on a failed rtionship and marriage would just be a waste of time and ultimately meaningless.” She was running out of time, after all.


    Belinda lowered her gaze and took a serious sip of her coffee, grimacing slightly. “Terrible coffee.”


    Across the table, Fred observed her furrowed brows and the softness of her features, feeling a mix of wonder and infatuation.


    Despite her frail and pale appearance, there was an undeniable maturity and intellect about her, something he foundcking in women his own age.


    Her profound insights on love and marriage only added to this allure.


    Fred’s heart seemed to skip a beat.


    After they had eaten, Belinda headed to the cellphone mall in the southern district of the city.


    This ce, though grubby and chaotic, was lined with numerous cellphone repair shops and skilled technicians who specialized in reviving old phones.


    Fred had sses that afternoon, so he could only stay with her for just over an hour before he had to leave.


    Belinda roamed the southern district alone all afternoon but failed to find a technician who could fix her phone.


    As evening draped the city in shadows, Belinda faced the inevitable.


    The phone Joyce had given her was beyond repair.


    It felt like a silent acknowledgment that Joyce would never return, never again wrap her in an embrace andugh together happily.


    Eventually, Belinda stumbled upon an old shop, purchased the same model of phone, picked up a random spare, and hailed a taxi home. However, the moment she stepped out of the taxi, a dark figure charged straight at her.


    The man seized Belinda by the chin and mmed her against the wall. The impact with the wall sent a sharp pain through Belinda’s back. Grimacing in pain, she managed to gasp out, “Kristopher, what the hell are you doing?”


    “You don’t understand what I’m doing?” Kristopher retorted, his grip tightening on her chin, his voice gritty as if grinding from between his clenched teeth. “I think you’re the one whose actions are beyond understanding! Didn’t we settle this at the hospital? I’m handling the online news, so you shouldn’t have to worry. But what did you do after all that?”


    .


    .


    .