Chapter 30: The Unchanged Bedroom
Lucas's response was undoubtedly meant to embarrass me in front of everyone.
But maybe I truly had no expectations left for Lucas—my emotions barely stirred.
"What the hell is that, Amelia, anyway? You mention her constantly!" Harold angrily accused Lucas. "Has she been even one ten-thousandth as good to you as Bella? These past three years, Bella has called regularly to check on me, sent me all kinds of nice things. When Simon and Lily fought, when Ashley and Arthur ran away from home, the first person they thought to turn to was Bella!"
Harold's cane struck the floor heavily. "What has Amelia ever done for you? If she really loved you, she would've tried to win me over! Being the other woman and acting superior about it—she doesn't even care about your family. Do you really think she cares about you?"
I thought to myself that the saying "old and wise" was spot on. Despite his age, Harold had sharp judgment, clear logic, and was incredibly eloquent when telling someone off.
Lucas took a deep breath. "Grandpa, it's different. Amelia saved my life. I owe her."
"Did she really save you?" Harold asked Lucas seriously. "You were badly injured and unconscious at the time. You never actually saw what your rescuer looked like—you only heard her voice and knew it was a girl younger than you. Later, you woke up and found yourself at Amelia's house. She took care of you for several days, but how can you prove Amelia was the one who saved you? Besides, she was just a teenage girl back then. How could she possibly have had the ability to stop your bleeding and stitch up your wounds?"
"Silverpine Town has volunteer medical teams every year. Amelia said she learned from people on one of those teams," Lucas explained patiently.
Harold sighed, his shoulders dropping as if all his energy had drained away, aging several years in an instant. "You've been stubborn since childhood. I can't talk you out of anything. Lucas, I just hope you won't waste your life on an uncertain guess. Do you really love Amelia? Don't regret losing Bella!"
Seeing Harold's exhausted state made Lucas uncomfortable, but he still said, "I won't regret it."
I sat there like a wooden figure, detached from it all, but my heart felt like it had a huge hole in it, with an indescribable sense of loss piercing through.
I forced myself to rally and said to Harold, "Grandpa, it's okay. Gale has an invitation to the auction. I'll be there."
"Bella, Lucas is the one who's wronged you!" Harold looked at me with guilt, tears glistening in his eyes. "You four siblings went through such a terrible ordeal. After Lucas found out your identity, did he ever show you any concern? Life on the run must have been so hard. You were raised with love and care, too—if you hadn't been desperate, why would you have pretended to be an orphan? Even though Lucas said he fell for you at first sight when you got married, I know the truth—he just saw that you had no background and forced you into it!"
My nose stung, and my hands trembled slightly.
"The Gambino family used to be affiliated with the Sorelli family. After the incident, they cut ties with you. If Lucas had any conscience, he wouldn't carry on with Amelia right in front of you!" Harold gripped my hand tightly. "He's rubbing salt in your wounds!"
The tears that had filled my eyes finally spilled over, falling like a downpour, instantly soaking my collar.
I cried hard, speaking incoherently: "Grandpa, you're so kind. You're the best grandpa besides my own! Your stomach cancer has just entered the middle stage. Surgery can effectively control the spread of cancer cells. Don't worry, I won't let you die. I'll definitely find a way to cure you."
"Good, good. I appreciate that," Harold said with relief, gently patting my back. He didn't know that when I said those words, it meant I would definitely make it happen!
Harold's emotions had gone through dramatic ups and downs, and I had cried my heart out. We were both exhausted.
Harold went straight to sleep in the guest room. Simon and Lily asked Ashley and Arthur about what had happened during this time, and Susan also went to her room to rest.
I stayed in the bathroom for a while, washed my face clean, then went to the kitchen and directed the cook to help me prepare ingredients.
Tonight, I would personally cook a lavish dinner for Harold.
The cook worked efficiently, and soon there wasn't much for me to do. I returned to the living room and sat there in a daze.
Lucas walked over and handed me an ice-cold towel. "Put this on your eyes."
I took the towel and placed it over my eyes. When it was no longer cool, I removed it and found Lucas still hadn't left.
"Is there something?" I asked him.
"Go upstairs and rest," he said.
"Are there any guest rooms left?" I looked up, puzzled. I didn't think there were any.
Lucas pressed his lips together. "The master bedroom."
I froze for a moment and shook my head in refusal, but Lucas grabbed my arm and pulled me upstairs.
The master bedroom looked the same, almost unchanged. Even the book I'd left on the nightstand, half-read, still had the bookmark sticking halfway out just as it had when I left.
My feelings were strange.
"You haven't been back recently?" I asked.
"I come back and sleep here every night," Lucas answered with a frown, pointing at the bed. "Get some rest."
I quickly shook my head. "I'll just sit on the small sofa by myself for a bit." I indicated that he could leave.
Lucas cooperatively left. Hearing the door close, I breathed a sigh of relief.
On the small sofa near the balcony were my favorite blanket and cushions. I lay down and smelled Lucas's cologne and a faint scent of cigarettes on the blanket and cushions, believing his claim that he came back every day.
But how could he sleep in a room like this?
The more I thought about it, the more something felt off.
I walked to the vanity. On the table and in the drawers were all my jewelry.
I opened the closet. My clothes were hanging there neatly, one by one, next to Lucas's clothes. Most were from the previous season that I had organized, with a few from this winter.
The walk-in closet was almost unchanged—the only difference was that the suit I'd made by hand for Lucas had been moved back, along with the dress form from "StitchKing" Men's Wear, covered with my handwriting.
I rubbed my temples and walked into the bathroom. On the counter were still two cups and a pair of matching toothbrushes.
I couldn't help but wonder if I was hallucinating. I found two suitcases and started organizing, beginning with the closet.
Just then, Lucas walked in carrying a glass of warm water. Seeing the messy scene in the room, he asked in shock, "What are you doing?"
His voice trembled slightly. I glanced up at him, then continued organizing. "I'm packing, obviously. I left in such a hurry last time that I didn't want these things anymore, but it's weird to keep leaving them here. Might as well deal with them now."
Lucas came over and crouched down by the suitcase. I thought he was going to help me. "Go organize the walk-in closet! What are you doing!"
Lucas was actually taking everything I'd just stuffed into the suitcase out and putting it back in the closet.
"Lucas, don't you find it creepy living in a room without me but with traces of me everywhere?" A deep weariness welled up inside me.
"Of course it's creepy, but Grandpa is home now. If he sees you leaving with a suitcase, he'll be heartbroken," Lucas said expressionlessly, slamming the closet door shut.
"The person making Grandpa sad is you, not me," I said, feeling frustrated.
Lucas slowly turned around, looking down at me sitting on the floor. "For Grandpa's sake—let's pretend to get back together for now."