Page 8
Story: When Love Wasn’t Enough
After some small talk, he said, “Mom, it is entirely my fault. I upset Athena yesterday, so I rushed over first thing this morning, afraid you’d be angry and refuse to let her come back with me.”
My mother, laughing, said, “Oh, of course not,” and encouraged Beckham to take me back.
I resisted, but she gave me a warning look before discreetly pinching my arm.
I ended up leaving with Beckham.
As we approached the complex’s gate, I yanked my hand away from his.
Beckham turned around and rubbed his temples, “Athena, stop causing a scene. Your mother wants you to return with me. If not, where will you go?”
He went on, confidently weighing the pros and cons, implying that I couldn’t possibly cope without him.
“I don’t need you to care,” I shot back. “I could sleep under a bridge or by the river and it wouldn’t bother you.” Aren’t you preoccupied enough with your little pregnant girlfriend?”
Beckham became irritated when he heard my mocking tone: “Athena, can’t you act like an adult?” You’re not getting any younger.” “Exactly, I’ve spent all of my youth on you.”
Beckham’s face darkened, and we were at a standstill by the gate.
Suddenly, a familiar voice called out and someone grabbed my wrist.
“Athena doesn’t need your concern about where she goes.”
I turned and saw someone I hadn’t seen in a long time: Maxwell Clinton.
Maxwell was my childhood friend, and we grew up together.
As a child, he was always stubborn, getting into heated arguments with me over trivial matters until his face turned red. He’d do something nice but never admit it.
But then he went abroad, and we gradually lost touch; I never expected to run into him here today.
As I looked at his hand on my wrist, memories of our childhood flooded back, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
Beckham was furious when he saw it and snapped, “Athena, do you have the nerve to accuse me? Who is he? Have you been sneaking around with him all along?”
I wiped away my smile and frowned at him, “Beckham, not everyone is as revolting as you. Maxwell and I are just friends.” Maxwell responded, “That’s correct. In contrast to Beckham, Athena and I have nothing to hide. Everyone is talking about you and your little romance with your student.”
Beckham furrowed his brow deeply, ignoring Maxwell and looking directly at me. “Athena, think carefully. If you leave today, don’t ever look for me again.”
I looked straight into his eyes and said, “Fine.”
With that, I grabbed Maxwell’s hand and left, unconcerned about Beckham’s reaction.
His feelings no longer mattered to me.
Maxwell took me back to his house and explained that he had just returned from a trip abroad when Claire informed him of Beckham’s affair.
He came looking for me right after he dropped off his luggage.
My condition worsened, and the painkillers were no longer effective.
Eventually, I couldn’t keep it from Maxwell any longer, and I found myself in the hospital, with him right by my side. Each day, the moments when I felt awake and aware dwindled.
He stood by my bed, his eyes red, watching me lie motionless on the hospital bed.
I smiled and enquired, “Why are you crying?””
My mother, laughing, said, “Oh, of course not,” and encouraged Beckham to take me back.
I resisted, but she gave me a warning look before discreetly pinching my arm.
I ended up leaving with Beckham.
As we approached the complex’s gate, I yanked my hand away from his.
Beckham turned around and rubbed his temples, “Athena, stop causing a scene. Your mother wants you to return with me. If not, where will you go?”
He went on, confidently weighing the pros and cons, implying that I couldn’t possibly cope without him.
“I don’t need you to care,” I shot back. “I could sleep under a bridge or by the river and it wouldn’t bother you.” Aren’t you preoccupied enough with your little pregnant girlfriend?”
Beckham became irritated when he heard my mocking tone: “Athena, can’t you act like an adult?” You’re not getting any younger.” “Exactly, I’ve spent all of my youth on you.”
Beckham’s face darkened, and we were at a standstill by the gate.
Suddenly, a familiar voice called out and someone grabbed my wrist.
“Athena doesn’t need your concern about where she goes.”
I turned and saw someone I hadn’t seen in a long time: Maxwell Clinton.
Maxwell was my childhood friend, and we grew up together.
As a child, he was always stubborn, getting into heated arguments with me over trivial matters until his face turned red. He’d do something nice but never admit it.
But then he went abroad, and we gradually lost touch; I never expected to run into him here today.
As I looked at his hand on my wrist, memories of our childhood flooded back, and I couldn’t stop smiling.
Beckham was furious when he saw it and snapped, “Athena, do you have the nerve to accuse me? Who is he? Have you been sneaking around with him all along?”
I wiped away my smile and frowned at him, “Beckham, not everyone is as revolting as you. Maxwell and I are just friends.” Maxwell responded, “That’s correct. In contrast to Beckham, Athena and I have nothing to hide. Everyone is talking about you and your little romance with your student.”
Beckham furrowed his brow deeply, ignoring Maxwell and looking directly at me. “Athena, think carefully. If you leave today, don’t ever look for me again.”
I looked straight into his eyes and said, “Fine.”
With that, I grabbed Maxwell’s hand and left, unconcerned about Beckham’s reaction.
His feelings no longer mattered to me.
Maxwell took me back to his house and explained that he had just returned from a trip abroad when Claire informed him of Beckham’s affair.
He came looking for me right after he dropped off his luggage.
My condition worsened, and the painkillers were no longer effective.
Eventually, I couldn’t keep it from Maxwell any longer, and I found myself in the hospital, with him right by my side. Each day, the moments when I felt awake and aware dwindled.
He stood by my bed, his eyes red, watching me lie motionless on the hospital bed.
I smiled and enquired, “Why are you crying?””