Marriage Named Hatred Chapter 11
Bastian did not know how long he had stood by the window.
When he walked out of the office, it was already completely dark outside. The corridor was empty, with only a few emergency lights still on.
The elevator doors opened. He walked in, leaned weakly against the wall of the car, and closed his eyes.
The elevator descended, floor by floor, the numbers flickering.
The doors opened, and he opened his eyes and walked out.
“Bas!” a voice sounded from the side.
He turned his head mechanically and saw Talia standing there.
“I heard you barely ate anything today, so I brought you some late-night food.” She came up to him, trying to hook her arm through his. “Bas, I know you’ve been in a bad mood lately. Let me go out with you for a walk to clear your head, okay?”
Bastian looked at her, his gaze hollow.
“I know you don’t like hearing it, but if someone left, they left. What’s the big deal?” Talia went on, her voice softening a little. “I take better care of people than she does, I understand you better than she does, I—”
“Get lost.” His voice was very light.
Talia’s smile stiffened for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “Bas, don’t be like that. I know it’s only temporary.”
Bastian lifted his foot, went around her, and kept walking out.
Talia stood where she was, watching his back as the smile on her face faded bit by bit.
Then she gritted her teeth and chased after him.
“What was so great about her!” Her voice sharpened. “The baby is already gone, and you still…”
Before she could finish, her neck was suddenly clamped in a hard grip.
Bastian’s eyes were bloodshot, like a wild beast that had been provoked.
His voice squeezed out through clenched teeth, one word at a time: “What did you say?”
Talia’s face flushed red. She desperately slapped at his forearm with both hands, but she could not break free.
“What… baby…” she said in broken bursts. “She… car accident… the baby was gone… diagnosis… permanent damage…”
His hand slowly loosened.
Talia collapsed onto the floor, clutching her throat and coughing violently.
Bastian stood there, looked at his own hand, then slowly turned and walked toward the wall beside him.
He slammed his fist into it.
The sound of bone striking the wall was dull. Blood seeped between his fingers, leaving several streaks on the white surface.
He did not stop.
Talia turned deathly pale with fright, scrambled to her feet, and staggered out.
Only he was left in the corridor.
He leaned against the wall and slowly slid down, sitting on the floor and staring at his mangled, bloody hand.
She had been pregnant with his child. When she lost the baby, where was he?
He was having dinner with Talia.
He had hung up on the assistant’s call. He had not gone.
Later, he found out she had been in a car accident, found out she was hospitalized, and found out Talia had hit her.
But he did not know she had lost their child.
He had never asked. He had thought none of it mattered.
He slowly lowered his head and buried his face in his knees.
The corridor was very quiet. Only his suppressed breathing sounded in the empty space, again and again.