Faded love 32

Chapter 32 

A woman in a white coat stood in the doorway. 

“CEO Gu,” Sybil said with a smile. 

“What a coincidence-again.” 

My smile was knife-cold. 

“He seems to be recovering well here. 

I’d hate for him to see you and relapse.” 

“What did you do?” I bit out. 

“Nothing.” She stepped in and gently shut the door. 

“I saved him. Helped him forget what he shouldn’t remember. 

Isn’t that what you wanted too? 

Didn’t you say you wished he could live again?” 

“You’re drugging him,” I said evenly. 

“You don’t understand him,” she smiled. 

“Whenever he thinks of you, he breaks. 

Those three years, his reason shattered. 

I merely helped him become a person again.” 

“You’re lying to yourself,” I said with a low laugh. 

“No-you are,” she returned. 

“You want to save him, but only so he’ll remember you. 

You want him alive, but not changed. 

What you love has always been that ‘madman’ you could never forgive.” 

She came closer, her voice almost tender. 

“But look at him now-so clean. 

He’s forgotten you and his guilt. 

Isn’t that better?” 

I stared at her-then smiled. 

“You’ll never understand. 

I don’t want him clean. 

I want him whole.” 

Her smile faltered. 

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I moved to his side. 

“Xingchen, listen to me-” 

He groaned, brow knotted, palm clamped to his head. 

“No-too much wind-” 

Sybil gave a cold little laugh. 

“See? He’s afraid of the wind. 

And you are the wind.” 

Outside, the gusts swelled. 

The windowpanes thudded under their fists. 

He cried out and crumpled to the floor. 

I rushed to him. 

“Xingchen! 

Listen-it’s me. Wendy!” 

His body went rigid. 

Wind broke into the room and tore at the curtains. 

He lifted his head, and a crack of light split his gaze. 

“Ming… 

Yue.” 

Sybil’s face went chalk white. 

“You dare-” 

He clutched his skull, voice shredded. 

“I lied to me… 

I said you died…” 

“Enough!” Sybil shrieked, whipping out a syringe. 

I stepped into her path. “Don’t you dare.” 

The wind hurled the medical reports off the table; papers flew like birds. 

“He’s awake,” I said coldly. 

“Your drug has failed.” 

Sybil stared, stunned. 

The needle slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. 

“You think the wind can wake him? 

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Wendy-he isn’t yours anymore.” 

“Then let the wind tell you-” I said, hauling him to his feet, 

“some people forget and remember again. 

You? You were never remembered.” 

My tears shattered in the wind. 

I held him and walked, step by step, toward the door. 

The wind at Windstop Bay was a blade. 

He leaned his weight against my shoulder and whispered, almost inaudible, 

“Wendy…” 

“I’m here.” 

“I said I was mad.” 

“So what.” 

I lifted my face to the heaving sea. 

“In the year of madness, I wasn’t better than you.” 

He gave the smallest laugh. 

Wind funneled down his collar. 

“So Windstop Bay moves, after all.” 

“It’s us who moved,” I said. 

“The wind was only called awake.” 

By night, the sea fell back to stillness. 

One by one, the lights in the sanatorium went out. 

I sat by the window, watching him sleep. 

Moonlight lay across his face- 

the face I thought I would never see again. 

Softly, I said, 

“Don’t be afraid of the wind. 

The wind came back.” 

In his dream, he frowned. 

But his lips moved, just a little. “Wendy.” 

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