Love You Can’t Say

I shifted my slightly stiff feet and shuffled toward the villa without looking at Dennis, my face frozen.

“Mr. George, is she okay?” Jenny asked. She had no idea what was going on.

Dennis replied in a low voice, “She’s okay. You can go to rest!”

Dennis followed me into the hall and reached out for me. “Clara,” he said angrily, as he touched my cold hand, “Are you punishing yourself for him?”

I shook him off, feeling strange and disgusted with him. “Let go of me!”

Dennis’s thin lips were tight and his handsome, sexy face sullied.

He stood in front of me, his eyes darkening, and he picked me up sideways and went straight to the second-floor bedroom, where he put me in the bathroom.

The heat was on in the bathroom, and it was hypnotically warm.

Seeing that I was just staring blankly, Dennis reached out to undress me.

“Clara, every man has his destiny. Don’t torture yourself, ok?” He said in a cold, indifferent voice.

I felt a surge of resentment. What did he mean every man had his destiny? I opened his hand and said coldly, “Get out of here!”

Dennis, stunned for a moment by my sudden rage, squinted at me. “Clara, you’re my wife!”

“So what?” I shouted. “I am your wife, yes, but you are incapable of protecting your children, of keeping me safe. Hank did all this. Without him, do you think I’d still be standing here in front of you? To put it bluntly, if it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead.”

My chest heaved, “I really shouldn’t come back with you. Each of you Georges is cooler and colder than the last. Yara killed a happy Gibson family, and you, you killed your own child and broke your wife’s heart. You put on the cloak of good men and have done the unconscionable. You’re scarier than Luna and disgusting!”This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

His lips closed, the pupils of his dark eyes constricted, and there was a dull, ghastly chill in his eyes.

My wrist was in his grasp. “My family means nothing to you. What? Did the Gibson family make you feel bad? Hank’s death made you dump all your resentment on me. What a good move Hank made!”

I looked at him and had no strength left to quarrel with him. “I don’t want to see you,” I said coldly, suppressing the pain in my heart.

My guilt deepened when I remembered the images of Yara dragging me around as a talisman at Gibson’s house these days. She knew right from the start that Hank hated her, that he was going to do something to her, so she asked me to stay with Gibson, under the pretense of staying with her.

She was just trying to hide behind me. She knew Hank wouldn’t hurt me, and he didn’t want me to see blood, so she kept me close. Even at the last moment, Hank changed the steering wheel to protect me.

I didn’t mean to hurt anyone, but I ended up hurting everyone. Some of them were dead, some of them were injured. I hurt them all.

Dennis looked at me with his seriousness in his eyes for a long time before he let out a small sigh and said, “I know you feel bad about Hank’s death, but Clara, nobody was hurting him. He crashed the car himself.”

A surge of anger rose from my heart. I picked up my high heels and hit him hard. “Get out of here! I don’t want to see you again!”

No one was hurting him? It was Yara! She killed Gloria! She killed Hank! It was Yara! She killed so many people quietly, why should she pretend to be innocent in the end?

I didn’t know when Dennis was so patient. When I hit him, he just dropped his eyes, hugged me in his arms, and comforted me, saying, “You’ve cursed, and you’ve hit. Go take a bath or you’ll be sick.”

It felt like a fist on cotton. He felt no pain, no sensation.

On the contrary, I was more and more depressed.

When he reached out to undress me, I jerked back, pushing him away. “Get out!”

His eyes sank. “Still?” There was a limit to a good temper.

But so what?

I pressed my lips together, looked at him and said the same words, “Get out!”

With a stern look on his face, he held me in his arms with his long arm and, with his other hand, squeezed my jaw and kissed me down forcefully.

He acted as fiercely as if he wanted to eat me alive.

Just when I thought he was going to execute me, he released me. He said in a low voice, “Will you stop? Huh?”

I piled up too many emotions, and my anger started inside. “Dennis, I told you to get out. Get out. Can’t you hear me? Are you deaf or dumb?”

With that, I got out of the tub and threw everything I could handle in the bathroom at him.

He looked at me with twisted brows, his eyes deep and unflinching. After a long time, when he saw that I was tired and had nothing left to smash, he looked at me and said quietly, “Enough?”

I looked at him and felt powerless.

Seeing me slumped on the ground, he took off my wet clothes in a good temper.

He hugged me, lowered me back into the tub, and sighed, “Knock it off, okay?”

Seeing that I was no longer excited or moving, he put hot water in and found shower gel and towel by my side from the debris I had thrown everywhere.

Then he went out without a word.

I was lying in the bathtub, my head spinning. Hank’s death was like a mountain I couldn’t climb. This guilt will stay with me for the rest of my life.

Dennis didn’t do anything wrong. He was just protecting his family and his wife the whole time.

It was my fault. I didn’t have my own mind and I didn’t have my own decisions. Dennis didn’t know what caused Gloria’s death, so he couldn’t understand why Hank hated Yara, why he killed her, and why he killed himself.

It was my fault. I wasn’t there for Hank when he needed it the most. I wasn’t there to give him hope. That was why he left.

When I came out of the bathroom, there was a pile of cigarette butts on the balcony of my bedroom. It was not hard to tell Dennis left it.

I didn’t see him, and I didn’t think about it carefully. I just changed my clothes, pulled up my freshly dried hair, and pushed my tired body down the stairs.

Jenny looked at me and said, “Ma’am, are you going out?”

I nodded and put on a pair of shoes in the vestibule.