Shattered Rose He Held On Tight novel Chapter 387

Chapter 387 The Fire of Farewell

“Quinton,” she called his name. “I wish I’d never loved you.”

She placed a photo on the table.

福

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Quinton’s fingers twitched. It was a wedding photo he had tucked carefully between the books on his shelf, kept safe all these years.

It was him and Isabella.

The man in that photo was smiling, carefree and happy. Years later, at another wedding, his face had been blank–just going through the motions. He looked like a completely different

person.

“I tried so hard to erase her from your heart. But all these years, I was just a clown waving a rag, scrubbing at words carved by someone else. I wiped and wiped, only to realize they weren’t written–they were carved into stone.”

From the very start, she had been fighting a losing battle.

“Can you tell me where I lost?” she asked.

Quinton looked at Isabella’s gentle smile in the photo, his voice quiet. “You didn’t lose to anyone. Love isn’t something you can control.”

He once thought logic could overcome love, that power could bury the pain of losing her. But in the countless nights when dreams blurred with reality, he knew deep down–he couldn’t.

Winnie’s expression wavered between laughter and tears. “But I lost the Lloyds. I lost my family. I lost everything.”

Quinton’s hand tightened on the armrest of his wheelchair. “I’m the one who failed you.”

He hadn’t been a good husband, nor a good father.

“Can I hug you one more time?” Winnie asked softly.

Quinton stayed silent for a long moment, then opened his arms to her.

She stepped close, bent down, and wrapped her arms around him. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Quinton, I really do love you.”

A knife slid into his heart from behind.

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Chapter 387 The Fire of Farewell

“So I’m taking you with me.”

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Quinton didn’t look shocked, didn’t fight back. He just smiled faintly, almost at peace. “Next time, don’t fall for me again.”

Winnie shook her head, then nodded. “No, I won’t. Let’s not meet again.”

Blood poured from his chest. She sat on the edge of the bed in her blood–stained wedding gown, took out the sleeping pills she had hidden away, and swallowed them all at once.

Collapsing onto the bed, she turned her head toward the man in the wheelchair, bleeding and trembling through the pain. Tears streamed down her face. “If only I could wake back to the day you brought Isabella to meet me. I’d wish you both happiness.”

up and

go

Quinton’s vision blurred, his lips lifting into a weak smile. “But Isabella wouldn’t marry me again.”

Winnie smiled too. “Quinton, we’re both pitiful souls.”

She wanted to die beautifully.

The fire wasn’t something they planned.

In truth, her knife hadn’t pierced Quinton’s heart. She had held back, after all.

If he had called for help, he could have been saved.

But Quinton no longer wanted to live. He longed to see Isabella again and quietly accepted death.

In his final moments, he tried to reach for the photo of him and Isabella, but he fell, knocking over a scented candle. The flame caught the tablecloth, and that was how the fire began.

Quinton died without ever touching that photo.

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