Chapter 448
Chapter 448:
He had no appetite, no urge to stir, and certainly no energy to search for medicine. He lay there, rooted to the bed, unwilling to move. The thirst gnawed at him, but only when it became unbearable did he reach for the water beside him and take a few sips. This had become his routine over the past few days—silence, solitude, and the soft hum of his thoughts.
His phone had long since died. He couldn’t summon the energy to charge it, so the world outside seemed to have forgotten him. Cristian found the peace in this solitude oddly comforting.
In that moment, he thought, if things continued like this, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. But then, the doorbell rang.
Only Bobby and Fernanda knew the address of his apartment in Esaham. Without thinking, his eyes snapped open, and he pressed the button by his bed, bringing the image of the entrance onto the screen.
It was Fernanda.
Somehow, he found the strength to drag himself out of bed, his body heavy with exhaustion, and made his way to the door.
The sight of her eased something inside him. Even though he knew she’d likely scold him, accuse him, her presence warmed him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
As she stood there, her figure blurred in his tired gaze—whether from his exhaustion or the medicine still in his system—he slowly closed his eyes, surrendering to sleep.
And then he dreamed.
He dreamed of a grand mansion, where the halls echoed with laughter and the clink of glasses. The people inside wore fine clothes, carried themselves with arrogance, and shared one common trait: disdain. They pointed at him, hurling insults like stones, calling him a jinx and blaming him for his mother’s death.
The mockery and hatred in their eyes were unbearable.
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They came from his own flesh and blood—his grandfather, uncles, aunts, cousins—each one looking down on him.
Even his father, the man who should have understood him best, loathed him. He tried to shrink away, quiet and withdrawn, a mere shadow in the mansion’s gleaming halls. But deep within, something stronger pulsed—a refusal to accept their attacks on him. When they pushed, he pushed back.
Eventually, they could no longer bear his defiance. They cast him out, far from the opulence of their lives, to a remote mountain village. They gave him a cottage—a gilded cage, not a home.
One night, he fled from the cottage. He believed that life was meaningless. In the river, he tried to drown himself. But someone pulled him out.
It was a young girl, with eyes that sparkled brighter than any star in the night sky. She glared at him with fierce intensity, her voice sharp. “You’re so young! Why would you want to throw your life away like that? Do you even know how hard I had to fight to keep mine? And here you are, ready to give it all up?”
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