Chapter 19 Questioning
The moment Rufus left, Cecilia could no longer hold back the violent churn in her stomach. She stumbled into the bathroom, dropped to her knees, and retched into the toilet.
The heaving went on and on, until her body shook with the effort. She had barely eaten, so nothing came up except bitter acid. The burn clawed its way up her throat, making her eyes sting. She wanted to cry, but she was so dehydrated that even tears refused to come.
She slumped against the cool porcelain, drained of strength. Even pressing the call button felt impossible. It took her a long moment of trembling breaths before she could push herself upright, intending to crawl back to bed.
But as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, she froze.
"Cecilia…" Charles Smith stood there, his gaze fixed on her frail frame, his eyes shadowed with a pain he couldn't hide. He had told himself to be ready for this, but seeing her in person still hit him like a blow.
She hadn't expected to see him here. Instinctively, she glanced toward the door. So Rufus hadn't forbidden visitors entirely—he had only barred her from leaving.
Still, she never imagined Charles would find her.
She forced a smile. "How did you even find this place?"
She had never wanted anyone to know she was sick—least of all Charles, her childhood friend. She had always been aware of the unspoken affection in the way he treated her, the way it seeped into every small gesture. And because she could never return it, she had kept her distance.
Part of it was to avoid the pity in people's eyes. The other part was to spare them the worry. Aside from Rufus, no one knew the truth. And the one man who did know… didn't believe her.
Charles didn't answer her question. Instead, he asked quietly, "Do you remember what I told you on your wedding day?"
Her mind slipped back to that moment—words she would never forget.
He had said, "If you're ever unhappy, tell me. I'll take you away, no matter the cost."
She had only smiled then, brushing it aside.
People change. Even the deepest bonds fade with time. Besides, this was the path she had chosen. She had no right to drag anyone else into the consequences.
Her silence now made Charles think she was reluctant to leave Rufus. After all, back then she had married him without hesitation.
"You still won't leave him, even now?" he asked, his voice tight with hurt.
He had been in the room for a while—long enough to hear her retching in the bathroom. He knew she was proud, that she wouldn't want him to see her like that.
So he had waited, resisting the urge to go in. But when the minutes stretched on, worry gnawed at him. He was about to push the door open when she finally emerged, looking so fragile it was as if she might shatter in his hands.
Cecilia didn't know how to answer. The truth was, it wasn't that she couldn't leave Rufus. It was that she had nowhere to go.
Charles took her hand, his voice almost pleading. "If you won't leave him, I won't force you. But promise me this—whatever happens, you have to keep up with the treatment. Please."
She should have agreed, if only to ease his mind. But she was too tired—too tired to think, too tired to pretend. She spoke only from the raw truth inside her.
She wouldn't live much longer. And she didn't want to spend what remained in humiliation.
"Cecilia! After all these years, can't you think about yourself for once? Ever since you met Rufus, your whole life has revolved around him. Can't you care about yourself? About the people who care about you?"
It was the first time Charles had ever raised his voice at her. In her memory, he had always been gentle, warm as spring sunlight.
She felt a pang of guilt for worrying him so much. She opened her mouth to speak, but her vision swayed. The room tilted.
Darkness swept in. Her knees buckled, and she began to fall—only to be caught in Charles's arms.
He lowered his chin to the crown of her head, holding her close, his heart pounding so hard it hurt.
He had thought time would dull the hold she had on him. But some people could not be forgotten. The moment he saw her again, he knew—he was lost all over.
Out of selfishness, he tightened his embrace. Only with her in his arms did the world feel whole. If he could, he would freeze time right here.
"Am I interrupting something?" Rufus's voice cut through the air, startling them both.
When his bodyguard reported that someone had come to see Cecilia, Rufus had been surprised. He hadn't planned to come, but even sitting beside Blair, his mind kept drifting. So he had come—and walked straight into this scene.
Truth be told, there were moments when Rufus wanted to strangle Cecilia outright. Especially when she was tangled up with other men.
Knowing he was intruding, Cecilia murmured a thank-you to Charles and stepped back.
Charles stared at the empty space where she had been, still caught in the echo of her warmth.
Rufus, however, showed no restraint. His voice dripped with mockery. "Even now, you can't stop chasing men, can you, Cecilia? Last time it was that so-called college friend. And this one?"
Cecilia didn't respond. She didn't even look at him.
But Charles wouldn't let the insult pass. "Mr. Chapman, wasn't it? We met at your wedding. I remember you saying you'd take care of her. Is this what you meant by that?"
Rufus's brows drew together. "And who exactly are you to question me?"
The longer Rufus looked at Charles, the less he liked him. Leroy, at least, had known his place and stayed out of his marriage.
But this man seemed determined to speak for Cecilia, as if she needed a champion.