Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 8

Back then, she was vibrant and full of life—her movements agile, her presence commanding, and she had once stood beneath thunderous applause...

So, was saving his life a mistake?

Even in that moment, when she pulled him from the brink, marriage never crossed her mind.

He was the one who insisted they should wed. He orchestrated a grand proposal, kneeling before her with a glittering diamond ring, offering her hope...

Her hands shook as she fumbled to switch off her phone. For the first time in five years, she collapsed onto her bed and sobbed uncontrollably.

She cried for a long, long time.

So long that exhaustion finally set in. So long that, in the end, not a single tear was left—only a searing pain in her chest, burning and relentless.

But it was that very pain that, after she was battered by the suffocating whirlpool of her emotions, finally brought her a sliver of clarity.

The more it hurt, the clearer her mind became.

She stumbled into the bathroom and splashed her face with cold water, forcing herself to calm down.

Staring at her own lifeless reflection in the mirror, she whispered, "Emma, one breakdown is enough. No more tears. Now, you're going to eat, get some rest, and tomorrow, you'll ace that exam."

Her only consolation, after five long years of marriage, was that she had kept busy—studying every day just to fill the emptiness.

Not because she had grand ambitions, but because the days were endless and unbearably dull.

Waiting for Theodore to come home had become her whole world.

But Theodore always came home late.

At first, she believed it was work—he was busy, she told herself. Only later did she learn the truth: he simply didn't want to come home and face her.

She had heard it with her own ears.

Back then, she'd tried to be understanding, believing his job was exhausting. She'd even mustered the courage to make him a special meal and bring it to his office, hoping to surprise him. But instead, she overheard a conversation she never should have.

She wasn't stupid. Slowly, she realized—he simply didn't love her, and so, he didn't want to touch her.

But hearing him say it out loud that day felt like a thousand needles piercing her heart. The pain was so sharp, it stole her breath.

Then his friend, trying to lighten the mood but only making it worse, asked, "What, you don't feel anything at all? Come on, Theo, she's still a beautiful woman."

Theodore's answer became a splinter lodged deep in her chest, a wound that festered over the years, aching whenever she remembered.

He said, "I've tried. I wanted to have a normal marriage with her. But whenever I see her leg, I... I just lose all interest."

So that was it...

The leg that was scarred and wasted from saving his life—he found it disgusting. Repulsive. It killed any desire he might have had.

She never did knock on his office door that night. The special meal she had made with so much care ended up in the office trash can.

After that, she never set foot in his company again.