Twisted Ties of Love (Izabella Salotti and Brett) novel Chapter 572

Liam froze momentarily, finally grasping the cause of Brett's odd behavior earlier.

He must have caught sight of Izabella downstairs. Perhaps he was ashamed for her to see him in such a disheveled state, or maybe he didn't know how to face her now that they had let each other go... It explained his panicked dash to the elevator.

Liam knew Brett wanted to chat; these days, Brett’s entertainment was scarce, and his conversations were mostly limited to small talk with the janitor to pass the time.

Liam casually asked, “What brings Ms. Salotti to the hospital? Is she sick?”

Brett's voice was hoarse as he replied, “I saw her coming out of the OB-GYN department.”

That meant she was pregnant. It wasn't exactly a surprise; after all, she and Casey had been married for several months now. It was only natural for them to start a family. But Liam was worried about the unresolved feelings Brett harbored, concerned it might drive him into a depression.

“It could be a check-up for something else. Doesn't necessarily mean she's pregnant.”

Brett shook his head, “I saw the way she was cradling her belly. I recognize that look. I’ll never forget it.” He had seen Izabella pregnant before, protecting their unborn child with the same care.

The memories of their lost children haunted Brett – one had died before he even knew of its existence, and the other was lost due to a termination agreement he had signed himself, forcing Izabella into the procedure against her will.

She had knelt before him, begging not to go through with it, but he had proceeded nonetheless.

The first time, maybe it didn't hit him as hard. The second, it was a soul-deep agony, like witnessing the snuffing of a vibrant life.

A bitter taste tinged Brett’s words as he gazed out the window, muttering to himself, “If our child had lived, they'd be in elementary school by now.”

If the first child had survived, they might have been in middle school already.

He had destroyed the happiness that was within his grasp.

Liam couldn't find words to comfort Brett.

He had expected Brett to spiral into the past at the news of “Izabella’s pregnancy,” but surprisingly, Brett acted as if nothing had happened.

After spending a night in the hospital, Brett seemed unusually spirited the next day, his usually pale, sickly face showing a tinge of color.

Seeing the improved Brett should have pleased Liam, but instead, he felt an unsettling apprehension.

He remembered his grandmother's last day; she too had suddenly looked better, speaking with renewed strength. They thought she was recovering, but by afternoon, she had slipped away in her sleep, never to wake again.

Brett now resembled his grandmother in those final hours – that brief resurgence of energy that wasn't a sign of recovery.

“Liam, I don’t want to stay in the hospital anymore. Take me back to Quiet Forest Estates,” Brett requested, his eyes shining with an inner resolve that wasn’t directed at Liam but seemed to emanate from a thought deep within.

Liam nodded in agreement, not daring to refuse; Quiet Forest Estates was Brett's home, the dream house he had shared with Izabella. Perhaps this was his last journey home.

After helping Brett into the wheelchair and steadying his trembling hands, Liam pushed him with a firm grip. Once downstairs, he helped Brett into the back seat of the car before taking the wheel himself.

The drive back to Quiet Forest Estates would take about half an hour. Along the way, Brett said, “Liam, when I'm gone, don't make a fuss with a funeral. Bury me in the Windham family plot, where I can be near my parents and see the ocean. I want to leave quietly.”

Liam kept his focus on driving, not responding. Brett continued anyway, speaking his wishes for his estate and his regret at not being able to see Izabella's baby.

He half-suggested sending a gift before stopping himself, knowing Izabella wouldn't accept anything from him. “I don’t want to upset her,” he said softly.

Throughout the drive, Liam remained silent, the cold sweat on his face a testament to his repressed emotions. At a red light, he wiped his face, realizing he had been crying without notice.

When they arrived at Quiet Forest Estates, Liam, his eyes red and puffy, avoided Brett's gaze. He assisted Brett, who gently pushed Liam's hands away, insisting, “Let me walk on my own.”

He repeated those words, aloud at first, then quieter and more indistinct, until his lips were just moving silently.

Clutched tightly in his arms was a wedding dress, and he smiled at the sunlight streaming in from outside.

He was thankful for having met Izabella in his life, thankful for her love, grateful for her dedication during the four years of their marriage, thankful that she had been his wife.

The day was bathed in a gentle sunlight, warm without being scorching, occasionally brushed by a cool breeze. Holding the wedding dress and touching the ring on his finger, engraved with the initials 'SZC,' he rubbed it as if to blend those letters into his very bones, to etch them onto his soul.

The rocking chair creaked rhythmically— "Creak... creak..." Brett shifted his body into the chair, swaying slightly and squinting at the shadow on the ground that was about to disappear.

It's said that when a person is about to die, their shadow leaves them—what more can be said of people?

Nothing can be held onto, everything owned in life is lost in death.

It seemed as if he had come to terms with it all. Brett's hand loosened its grip, and the ring slipped off, hitting the ground with a clear, tiny sound before rolling into a narrow slit on the porch.

As he closed his eyes, Brett thought that he wouldn't be around to hear the cicadas this year, and in a daze, he seemed to hear Izabella's voice from the day she turned away from him, leaving him with a wish.

—"Brett, I wish for you to have the warmth of the winter sun, the company of a summer breeze, a future bright as silk, free from illness and sorrow, to meet someone true, and to grow old together..."

"President Windham..." Liam called softly, but the only reply was silence.

Seeing Brett's peaceful, "sleeping" demeanor, Liam sniffled and gave the rocking chair a gentle push.

"Creak... creak..."

Brett passed away in the warmth of the sun and the comfort of the breeze.