Try Begging - Chapter 149.1
Blinded by his insatiable desires, Leon knew that every calculation and assumption he made to find her was probably wrong. Yet, even with that knowledge, he couldn’t stop his futile attempts until the day she returned, though he sensed that day would never come.
“Ha…”
He suddenly let out a bitter laugh.
The day she returns? Returns, as if she ever would. What a madman.
He had to accept the truth.
She wasn’t coming back. She had left him.
She didn’t just disappear, she abandoned him. It was as if he had been forced to drink a deadly poison. Despite the repeated urges to accept the truth, Leon stubbornly refused.
In his mind, Blanchard laughed at him.
“I no longer love Grace, and I regret ever having loved her.”
Loving her, stopping his love for her, regretting having loved her, and even calling out her name—Leon could do none of these things easily. Yet Blanchard did them all without hesitation as if he had the right to boast about it in front of Leon.
Arrogant bastard, who do you think you are?
But even then, Leon knew. Both Blanchard and he were in the same abandoned state, yet he could never utter the words that he regretted loving Grace for the rest of his life.
In the end, he was the one who was nothing.
He had shown her nothing but the truth. He was the one who had ultimately broken her conditioning. Yet, she treated him worse than a traitor. Even after he promised to entrust everything he had to her, after he had vowed their future together, she left.
No, he was abandoned.
After completing all the tasks on his shoulders, trying to leave behind the cruel mockery, manipulation, and betrayal she had inflicted on him over the years, she still left him.
Yes, you still do things that way.
She still left him easily. He couldn’t even discard a broken mirror. Was it his heart that the shards had ripped apart, not his hand?
Leon lifted his head and stared at the shattered mirror, feeling a wave of regret. It wasn’t even her mirror, nor something she cherished. It was just an object that occasionally reflected her image. Yet, he now loathed himself for breaking it over such an insignificant reason.
It was in that fleeting moment of smashing the mirror that he realized his foolish desire to leave everything exactly as it was when she was here.
The thought seemed utterly stupid to him now.
Everything she had touched had become relics he felt compelled to preserve, to the point of even bringing back things she had discarded.
No matter what he did, it all felt like the actions of a fool.
His fractured reflection in the mirror gave a self-mocking smile. The intermittent laughter eventually faded away completely. He was no different. Leon Winston was just another piece of the past Grace Riddle had thrown away.
The hand, stained with blood, grasped his distorted face. Red tears rolled down his cheeks.
The feeling of this place being a mausoleum was not just a passing sensation. This annex was the grave of Grace Riddle’s discarded past.
Leon Winston would decay here, buried with the past that Grace Riddle had abandoned.
On a weekday afternoon, the cafe was quite empty, with tea time still an hour away.
So, last night…
The waiters gathered around the counter and chatted while the radio played. They turned their heads in unison as the door swung open.
Welcome.
They exchanged puzzled glances as one of them stepped forward to greet the customer.
It was unusual to see someone of this type frequent the café at this hour. At first glance, the middle-aged man appeared to be of the working class. Instead of sitting at the bar, he chose a table, which was also unusual for a lone male patron.
Coffee.
Yes, one coffee. I’ll bring it right over.
As soon as the waiter returned to the counter with the order, the door opened again.
Welcome.
This time, the customer who walked in was the type common for this time of day on a weekday.
A young woman wearing a cloche hat decorated with a black ribbon and a black cape trimmed with fur at the hem stood at the entrance, glancing around. She exuded an air of wealth. Given that the boutique district wasn’t far, it was typical for ladies to visit this cafe around this hour to enjoy a leisurely cup of tea or chat with friends after shopping.
Are you expecting someone?
The waiter asked as he approached.
The woman shook her head and removed her gloves, which matched the color of her hat. When a thin gold ring on her left ring finger caught the light, the waiter added a respectful address, gesturing inside the café.
Madam, please sit wherever you feel comfortable.
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