The Heiress's Comeback-Chapter 141: [Volume 1] - - Past trauma

What if he looked at her with the same hurt and betrayal that had filled his gaze before? What if he could see through her bravado and into the truth of her heart?

"You deserved so much more," she whispered to the silence, wishing desperately for a chance to tell him that she had been wrong—that she had taken his love for granted, thinking it would always be there, waiting for her to return.

As she sat alone in the soft, fragrant grass, the weight of her regrets pressed heavily on her shoulders.

"I’m sorry, Cain," she murmured, letting the tears flow freely. "I wish I could tell you how much I regret everything. I wish I could turn back time and do it all differently."

But the truth remained: she was left to grapple with her guilt alone, haunted by the love she had shattered beyond repair.

"If we ever meet again, I will find a way to make it right," she whispered into the silence, though deep down, the promise felt hollow. She knew it might never be possible. How could it?

Esme knew, with a painful clarity, that she didn’t even deserve redemption. "I deserve it," she admitted to herself, her voice cracking under the weight of the confession.

"I deserve to feel his hatred." The thought was a sharp blade, twisting in her chest. Cain’s love, once a beacon of warmth and solace, had turned into something cold and distant, something unreachable. And she knew she had no one to blame but herself.

What if he doesn’t even wait for me at the Soul Gate? The idea terrified her. It wasn’t just his forgiveness she feared she might never earn—it was his indifference.

Esme had heard the stories of the Soul Gate, that ethereal place where souls waited after death, lingering until the moment they would be reborn into a new life. What if Cain passed through without ever looking back for her? What if she was left waiting, alone, as she always feared?

She could almost see it: Cain, standing on the other side, his red eyes no longer filled with love, but with disdain.

He would turn away from her, uninterested, and move on to his next life without a second thought, leaving her behind in the endless cycle of regret. The image was unbearable, but Esme knew it was a fate she deserved.

"He has every right to hate me," she muttered, her chest tightening at the truth. After everything she had done—every lie, every manipulation—how could she expect him to wait for her?

"I took everything from him." Her voice was small, hollow, as if the weight of her guilt was swallowing her whole. "I used him, just like everyone else."

The thought of never seeing him again, of never having the chance to make amends, made her heart ache in ways she hadn’t thought possible. She didn’t even feel wronged by it. "I deserve this," she repeated, her fingers curling into fists, nails biting into her palms. "I deserve to live with this pain."

Esme couldn’t escape the sinking reality—no matter how much she longed for Cain’s forgiveness, or even just a chance to explain, the truth was that she might never get it. And that, perhaps, was her punishment. Not the anger. Not the accusations. But the silence.

"If he chooses not to wait for me, I’ll understand," she thought, her chest heavy with sorrow. "Because after everything I’ve done, he should move on. He should find peace, even if it means leaving me behind."

The Soul Gate felt impossibly far away now. She couldn’t imagine standing there, waiting for Cain, knowing he might never come. Knowing he might not want to.

And Esme, for the first time, accepted that perhaps, this was her fate. A life—and a death—haunted by the love she had thrown away. "He might not wait for me," she whispered, her voice a fragile thread in the darkness, "and maybe that’s exactly what I deserve."

Helga had just arrived at the office to remind Esme about their upcoming meeting, her mind buzzing with excitement and anticipation. But as she stepped inside, her heart plummeted at the sight before her. The room was in disarray; the glass table lay shattered, its pieces sparkling ominously on the floor like stars fallen from the sky.

And there was Esme, crumpled and desolate, cradling her head in her hands. Helga’s heart raced as she took in the horrifying scene—her friend’s eyes were blank, devoid of the spark that usually lit up her face. The file she had been holding slipped from her fingers, forgotten in her shock.

She had seen Esme in this state before, a painful echo of the past that had haunted them both when they were younger, around nineteen or twenty. Those memories rushed back to her—a time filled with silent battles and struggles that felt insurmountable.

"Esme! Esme!" Helga called, her voice shaking as she rushed to her friend’s side, panic gripping her heart. She shook Esme gently, desperate for any sign of recognition or response. "Please, talk to me!"

But all Esme could manage was a whisper, her voice barely audible as she repeated, "I’m sorry... I’m sorry, Cain." The words hung heavy in the air, each syllable laced with despair, sending a shiver down Helga’s spine.

"No, no, no!" Helga trembled at the sound of her friend’s agony. She cupped Esme’s face, forcing her to look up, but all she saw was a haunting emptiness where joy once resided.

Tears streamed down Esme’s cheeks, glimmering like crystals in the fading light, yet her gaze remained distant and unseeing. It felt as if a chasm had opened up between who Esme had been and who she was now—a painful divide that seemed impossible to bridge.

"Esme! Please!" Helga’s voice cracked with urgency. She shook her friend again, but Esme was lost in her mutterings, trapped in a cycle of regret and sorrow. Helga’s heart raced as desperation clawed at her.