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They couldn’t sleep in that morning either; it was Floyd Wilkinson’s
roommate calling.
“Joan was taken to the emergency room last night! She’s been there for an entire day and night. Where the hell are you?”
Floyd finally remembered I existed and paused, confused. “I saw her fall to the ground yesterday, but she wasn’t hurt. What could she be doing in the emergency room? Is this her way of trying to get my sympathy?”
“Stop acting crazy and get to the hospital now. Her parents are here too! This situation isn’t going to end well.” The roommate’s voice suddenly
grew weak before the call was abruptly cut off.
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He was probably hiding to make the
call.
My parents, who cherished me like a precious gem, would be devastated if they knew I was dead. They had me late in life, and I’ve been an ungrateful daughter, blindly trusting the wrong person, ignoring my brother’s well–meant warnings. I deserved this
fate.
“Floyd, we should go check on her. Even though the third floor isn’t very high, her parents are here, and she’s always been in frail health,” Priscilla Bates said softly, her seductive body pressing against Floyd’s.
“I heard her parents have always been satisfied with you. Maybe they plan to finalize things between you two this
time.”
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eyelid twitch with increased irritation.
He didn’t want to get married.
We’d been in love since our freshman
year, and now six whole years had passed. I had once dreamt of getting married right after graduation,
envisioning a wonderful future
together. Marry early, have kids, and
leave them for my parents to care for while he pursued his career. If he ever
lost interest, my share of my parents‘ company would ensure I lived comfortably for the rest of my life.
But on our third anniversary, when I gave him a ring and proposed, he coldly rejected me without hesitation. The cake landed on my head, and he
looked almost crazed.
It didn’t rain that day, but the happiness between us vanished like
an illusion.
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“Joan Collins, are you that desperate for a man to marry you?” His
malicious insults haunted me, leaving
me feeling uneasy every time I
recalled them.
The reason I suddenly did this was because Priscilla Bates told me he wanted to propose but hadn’t found the right moment. I thought one of us had to make the first move, so I planned this crazy anniversary
celebration.
But our argument eventually calmed down. He apologized first and explained, “Joan, my upbringing wasn’t ideal, so I don’t want to rush into marriage without being fully prepared.”
“You are as cherished to me as you
are to your parents. I want to give you
everything”
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So, like a fool, I forgot all the insults and threw myself into his arms. Three more years passed, and he still hadn’t brought up marriage, as if he’d completely forgotten about it.
“I don’t want to see her, Prissy. How about we go to that shop you’ve been wanting to visit for so long today?”
Floyd Wilkinson’s wavering resolve became firm again. Anything remotely related to “marriage” was avoided at
all costs.
As the familiar number flashed on the screen, Floyd Wilkinson was slicing steak for Priscilla Bates.
“Looks like it’s nothing important,‘ Floyd Wilkinson glanced at his phone
before putting it away.
Priscilla Bates seemed understanding,
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“Floyd, you should answer it, just to see what’s going on.”
By the tenth persistent call, Priscilla Bates had to appear considerate and understanding.
Floyd Wilkinson answered, annoyed, his tone icy and completely different from how he was with Priscilla Bates.
“What is it?”
“Are you Joan’s boyfriend?” My mother’s tearful voice trembled through the phone, finally bringing the news of my death to his ears.
“Joan couldn’t be saved. She’s gone.”
