Chapter 215: Door
Juniper stood in the kitchen, staring at the fish on the counter.
The fish's eyes had a milky glaze, and its gills were still streaked with blood.
The fish was alive, just pulled from the water.
The servant stood nearby, wanting to say something but holding back.
"Ms. Miller, why don't I handle this..."
"No need."
Juniper cut her off.
She reached out to grab the fish.
The tail whipped suddenly, slipping from her slick palm, and fell into the sink.
Water splashed onto her.
She looked down at her dress.
A light blue one, new, worn for the first time today.
The sleeve was soaked, clinging to her wrist.
She took a deep breath and reached for it again.
When the tail slipped away the second time, her nail caught on the fin, and a drop of blood appeared on her fingertip.
The servant couldn't watch anymore.
"Ms. Miller, your hand is bleeding."
Juniper ignored her.
She stared at the fish for a few seconds, then clenched her fist and brought it down into the sink.
This time, the fish finally stopped moving, its tail only twitching slightly. She grabbed the knife and chopped down.
Even the servant jumped back in shock.
A smile appeared on Juniper's face.
"It's just killing a fish, right?"
Forty minutes later, Juniper walked into the dining room carrying a tray.
Steamed fish.
She'd watched tutorials all night, then practiced it in her mind all evening.
Finally, she sent the servant away and ordered a fresh one from a restaurant to be delivered.
"William, try it."
"I made it myself for you."
William sat at the head of the table and didn't even look up.
"You're family, why didn't you greet Isabella?"
Juniper's mind froze for a moment, not understanding why he'd ask such a question.
He wanted her to greet a corpse?
Juniper held it in.
Forced a smile, crouched by the wheelchair.
"Isabella, good morning."
Dylan, standing behind them, turned his head away.
William remembered last night's dream and blurted out a sentence.
"What you make is only fit for dogs."
The moment those words left his mouth, his hand trembled slightly.
Even Dylan turned back around.
He pushed the wheelchair out, leaving Juniper behind.
Standing in the courtyard, standing behind Isabella.
Golden sunlight shone on both of them. William leaned close to Isabella's face.
"It's daylight, we haven't been in the sun for so long, haven't gone out for so long."
Juniper was left behind in the dining room.
That plate of fish still sat on the table, untouched.
She stood looking toward the doorway, the smile on her face slowly fading.
She looked down at the fish.
For this plate of fish, she'd killed a live one, gotten splattered with blood, and cut her hand.
She'd watched tutorials all night.
And the result?
He didn't even look at it.
He pushed that corpse outside.
Juniper slowly sat down.
She picked up the utensils, took a piece of fish, and put it in her mouth.
Made by the restaurant, of course, it tasted good.
But as she chewed, she suddenly felt like she couldn't swallow.
She put down the utensils, looking at the fish.
Looked for a long time.
Then she picked up the plate and dumped it all—fish and plate together—into the trash.
"It's just a fish, right?"
Her voice was very soft.
"I'll make it again tomorrow."
In the courtyard, the sunlight was beautiful.
William stood behind the wheelchair, hands on the handles.
A breeze blew gently, lifting a bit of gauze from Isabella's skirt.
He looked down at her.
"Isabella."
His voice was soft.
But no one answered.
He suddenly remembered an afternoon.
"You'd better let her go right now, or I'll make you die."
That's what he'd said to Lester.
"You're thinking too much; her life isn't worth that much."
This, he'd also said to Lester.
William shook his head without speaking.
"She means nothing."
The soaked sheets were covered in blood, and the person on the bed was deathly pale.
William's head started hurting again.
"Isabella, listen carefully, if you dare die, I'll never forgive you; you have to hold on."
The things he'd said, the things he'd done.
Every single one came flooding back.
He covered his head and crouched on the ground, his hand pulling at his hair was shaking.
The wheelchair started moving in the wind.
Taking Isabella away.
Ahead was sunlight, blue flowers in bloom.
A butterfly fluttered down on its wings.
Until the wheelchair hit a stone and flipped over, Isabella fell onto the soft green grass.
At the second-floor window, Juniper lifted a corner of the curtain.
Looking at Isabella lying face-up, a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"I'm so excellent, surely I'm better than a corpse?"
Watching William curled up in a ball, her smile disappeared again.
She became uncertain about her own thoughts.
"Am I really not as good as a corpse?"
Downstairs, William finally stopped thinking.
But when he reached out, he grabbed nothing.
He looked up and saw Isabella fallen on the ground.
He ran over and tripped on the same stone that had tripped Isabella.
He crawled to Isabella's side and put her back in the wheelchair.
"You still want to leave me?"
"You won't stay by my side even in death?"
William crouched at her feet.
Looking at those closed eyes beneath the delicate veil.
"You won't even look at me."
The tenderness in William's eyes faded.
He grabbed her hand and wouldn't let go.
"You won't talk to me because you're punishing me, right?"
"You hate me, hate that I wasn't good enough for you."
"Isabella, even if you're dead, I won't let you leave."
He pressed his face against her leg, his tone softening again.
He placed her hand on her own head, saying softly.
"How could I bear to let you leave?"
"You're my wife."
Juniper dropped the curtain, her fingers gripping the fabric tight.
The scene from downstairs kept replaying in her mind.
William, kneeling on the ground, treating a rotting corpse like a treasure, saying sweet words to her, saying, "How could I bear to let you leave?"
So disgusting.
And her? She killed fish, cooked, got humiliated, and couldn't even get him to look at her properly.
She turned around, staring at that wall.
Next door was that room.
Usually, that corpse lay in there.
She suddenly remembered Dylan's words—"No one can enter that room."
Can no one enter?
Why?
She's dead, and still blocking her way.
Juniper walked to the wall and laid her palm against it.
She closed her eyes, feeling the coldness seep from her palm, crawling up through her veins.
She suddenly remembered what William had said.
"What you make is only fit for dogs."
Her nails made a slight scratching sound on the wall.
She said to the wall, "You're dead! You're dead!"
Her voice was kept so low, like it was forced through her teeth.
She suddenly opened her eyes and pulled open the room door.
The hallway was empty, and only dim wall lamps lit.
She walked toward the next room, stopped in front of that door, looking at the brass doorknob.
Suddenly heard a sound behind her.
"Ms. Miller."
Juniper turned around.
Dylan stood at the end of the hallway, looking at her.
His eyes held nothing, yet seemed to hold everything.
Juniper smiled.
"Dylan, I just... just wanted to go in and clean the room."