Chapter 64 I’m Busy
Suddenly, thick, tangled vines erupted from the gorgeous bouquet, surging toward Athena like a wild, uncontrollable force. The vines coiled around her, constricting tightly. Then, thorns sprouted violently, digging into her skin with a searing pain.
Her breath caught in her throat as she cried out, her voice trembling, “Byron…!”
Just as her vision blurred with tears, Byron appeared—tall, unyielding, but distant. His presence, once a comfort, now felt like an insurmountable wall. Athena reached out desperately, her voice breaking as she screamed, “Help! Byron, please!”
But he didn’t move. His eyes met hers for a fleeting moment, but his face remained cold and indifferent. There was no recognition, no warmth, just the chilling detachment of a stranger.
He turned away.
“No…” Athena gasped, pain seizing her chest as she tried to move, to run after him. But her limbs wouldn’t respond. The thorns were biting deeper now, dragging her down into despair. She could hear Byron’s footsteps fading, his figure slipping further from her reach. She reached out again, her vision swimming with the agony of losing him, but she couldn’t grasp him.
And then, a loud crash shattered the stillness.
Athena’s head whipped around, heart pounding in terror. There, standing in front of her, was Arlan—his face twisted in a grotesque expression of malice. He held a bloodied baby in his arms, its tiny wails echoing through the air. He raised it high, smashing the innocent child against the window of a car with a sickening thud.
Athena froze in horror. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, the image burned into her mind.
Her gaze flicked back to the path Byron had taken. But there was no trace of him—only the locked door of the car and the blazing inferno that engulfed everything.
Everything. Gone.
A sharp gasp ripped from her throat as she woke up with a start, her body drenched in sweat. Her chest heaved, her mind still trapped in the nightmare’s grip. She stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, the remnants of despair clinging to her like a second skin. The nightmare had felt so real, and the pain, the helplessness, was still so vivid.
Tears slid down her face as she curled up in bed, her sobs echoing in the empty room. Why? Why had she still held on to the hope that Byron would be there for her? Even in her dream, even when everything was falling apart, she’d expected him to save her.
The thought made her sick. Why had she not woken up to the truth? Why hadn’t she stopped hoping that he would come to her aid, that he would choose her?
“Athena?”
The voice outside the door pulled her from her spiraling thoughts. It was Logan’s voice, low and cautious.
Athena quickly wiped her tears away and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “What’s wrong?” she called out, her voice shaking, but she forced it to sound steady.
“Are you crying?” Logan’s voice was filled with concern, but also the kind of respect he always showed when he knew she needed space.
“No… I just had a nightmare. Go to sleep! We have to get up early tomorrow,” Athena replied, her words a weak attempt to mask the emotional turmoil inside her.
Logan hesitated, the silence stretching out between them before he spoke again. “Okay…” he muttered, but there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. He had heard her crying—had heard her whispering someone’s name, though he couldn’t quite make it out.
Before he left, Logan added, his concern still evident, “Athena, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know, okay?”
Athena didn’t reply immediately, but simply let out a long sigh. “I know, Logan,” she answered softly, her voice slightly hoarse from the emotional outpouring.
Logan, unwilling to press further, retreated back to his room, though he clearly wasn’t completely at ease. Athena could hear the faint rustle of his footsteps as he left.
As the door clicked shut, Athena sat there in the dark, trying to piece herself back together. She breathed deeply, slowly, until the panic from the nightmare began to subside.
Am I losing myself? she thought. Her emotions felt so out of control lately. Was it the pregnancy? Was it all just the stress of it all? No. She knew what it was. She knew what the real issue was—Byron. He was gone.
The ache inside her was constant now, like a deep, gnawing emptiness that would never be filled. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from thinking of him, even now.
“I need to see a psychiatrist when I get back to Greeli City,” she thought, trying to silence the dark thoughts swirling in her mind. Depression couldn’t be allowed to take root. Not now. Not with the baby.
Meanwhile, far away in Greeli City…
Byron’s expression was dark as he stared down at the documents in front of him.
“Mr. Crawford, this is Madam Lewis’s case,” Liam’s voice broke the silence, his tone cautious.
Byron took the papers from him, his fingers brushing against the file with a sense of dread. He skimmed through it quickly, his eyes locking onto the date—April 24th.
Romy Lewis, Athena’s beloved grandmother, had passed away in the early morning hours of that day. The cause of death: multiple system organ failure. It was all there—clear and final.
But then, something caught his eye: the signature. Athena’s signature.
Byron paused, his heart skipping a beat. Her handwriting was usually elegant, precise—he remembered how she had once told him that her grandfather had taught her calligraphy. But this signature… it was jagged, almost unreadable. It seemed shaky, as if it had been signed through a veil of tears.
Had she been crying when she signed it?
The thought made his chest tighten painfully.
Byron’s mind wandered back to the night of April 24th. He scrolled through his phone, his fingers moving quickly as he found the record of their last conversation.
At 1:15 AM, Athena had sent him a message on WhatsApp: [Are you busy? Can I call you?]
Byron had responded coldly: [Don’t call me. I’m busy.]
The words felt like a slap now. He hadn’t known, hadn’t understood what she was going through. She had been facing the death of the only family she had left, and he… had dismissed her.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. His indifference had crushed her, just when she needed him most.
Byron’s mind swirled with guilt and regret, but it was too late to undo the damage.
The distance between them had grown too wide.