CHAPTER 115: CHAPTER 115: JENSON FORREST’S HEART ACHES LIKE A KNIFE

Aggrieved? How could she not be? She had been wronged for four years. That night, she had done nothing, yet overnight she became the laughingstock of Veridia’s high society. She was labeled a wanton woman who climbed into her brother’s bed, despised and shunned by everyone for four years. No matter how she tried to explain herself, it was useless. She was condemned by all, branded as ungrateful, deceitful, and insatiably greedy.

Back then, she thought it didn’t matter if the whole world misunderstood and cursed her, as long as her brother believed her. But he didn’t. He looked at her the same way as everyone else, casting her into an irredeemable Hell. She had no one to confide in about these grievances. Now, he was finally willing to believe her, but she no longer needed it.

Zinnia lifted her gaze, her eyes now completely clear and dry, holding only a vast, desolate emptiness. She offered a slight smile. "It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve been cursed for four years, seen by everyone as a stain on you, Jenson Forrest. Now that we’re filing for divorce, I don’t have to be the sinner anymore."

Jenson felt the blood freeze in his veins at her words, and his face turned a shade paler. He would rather she scream, kick, and cry hysterically at him than see her so calmly state that it was all in the past.

His thin lips moved, wanting to explain why he hadn’t been able to believe her back then. But the words were like shards of glass in his throat, too painful to speak. No matter the reason, the fact was that I didn’t believe her. When she needed my protection the most, I was just as cruel as everyone else and pushed her away. His heart twisted with pain, yet he was defenseless.

"I’ll investigate this thoroughly, Zinnia..." After a long pause, Jenson spoke, his voice trembling slightly. He still wanted to apologize; he had a thousand words left to say.

But Zinnia gave him no chance. She simply nodded and calmly interrupted him, "Do as you wish. The truth doesn’t matter to me anymore."

After all, I’ve already endured everything I was supposed to and everything I wasn’t. Now that I’ve survived it, I have no desire to rip open my wounds again and again for public display.

Zinnia pushed away from Jenson, sliding off his lap. She smiled again. "But thank you anyway. You’ve chosen to believe me now, even before you’ve finished your investigation. I suppose that’s some small comfort."

A sharp pain lanced through Jenson’s heart. He grabbed her hand, his brow furrowed. "I’m sorry. I should have figured all of this out sooner. If only I had stayed back then and listened to you more, I wouldn’t have..."

After the incident all those years ago, he hadn’t known how to face her, so he had chosen to run away. By the time he saw her again, nearly a year had passed. The wound had long since festered, and no one wanted to speak of it. Even when Zinnia tried to explain again later, he had been unwilling to touch the subject, never investigating or thinking about it deeply.

"It’s okay. you were a victim, too. There’s no need to apologize to me," Zinnia said, shaking her head with an aloof smile.

Jenson looked into her eyes. They were truly clear and clean, devoid of any resentment. In this moment, she was once again like the sweet little girl from his memories, standing softly behind him, as if she would never get angry, always admiring and accepting him unconditionally.

This, however, did nothing to soothe Jenson’s heart. Instead, it filled him with a crushing sense of powerlessness and frustration with no outlet. The man’s expression remained cool, but the color drained from his lips. His grip on Zinnia’s wrist was heavy, as if desperately trying to hold on to her, but she still slowly and deliberately pulled her hand away.

She smiled and said, "Brother, if you truly feel sorry, could you promise me one thing?"

"Yes, I promise," Jenson agreed instantly, not even waiting to hear the request. He was so desperate that he seemed to fear she would rescind this chance for atonement if he hesitated for even a second.

Zinnia nodded. "Then promise me you’ll start being a good ex-husband, right now."

A heavy weight settled in Jenson’s chest, so suffocating that he raised a hand to yank forcefully at his tie. "Ha, a good ex-husband? But we haven’t officially divorced yet!"

"That’s why I’m asking you. I don’t care, you just promised me," Zinnia retorted, frowning with a light humph. This flicker of temper was infinitely better than her earlier indifferent, numb demeanor.

Jenson’s stern features softened. "What qualifies as a good ex-husband?"

"Stop appearing in front of me all the time. Fulfill my wish to leave."

Don’t keep trying to sway me. I can’t withstand this emotional tug-of-war. I’m afraid if I look back, I’ll fall into that same abyss all over again.

Jenson’s hands clenched into tight fists, his eyes filled with a bitter sorrow. He never expected that her final request would be for him to simply let her go, to allow her to leave him.

Such a sweet little sister, using the most obedient façade to speak the cruelest words. I don’t want this. But she was innocent these past four years. Innocently trapped in the Forrest Family, trapped in this marriage. Ignored by me, despised by others. After four years of my coldness and neglect, what right do I have to ask her to stay?

"Alright. I’ll grant your wish," Jenson finally managed to say, his Adam’s apple bobbing as the hoarse words escaped his throat.

"Thank you, Brother."

With a final lift of her lips, Zinnia turned, opened the car door, and stepped out.

Jenson watched her resolute back grow distant, and his dark eyes slowly filled with a web of bloodshot veins. He squeezed his eyes shut. I’ve granted her wish, but what about the regret, the unwillingness, and the tide of emotions crashing in my heart? Who will grant me my peace?

What Jenson didn’t know was that the moment Zinnia got out of the car, the façade of calm she had maintained so carefully shattered.

How could I possibly let it go so easily? Even now, I can still remember lying in that hospital bed, the tearing pain between my legs warring with a secret, shameful sweetness in my heart. I thought it might be for the best. By some strange twist of fate, I had become my brother’s woman. Perhaps it was destiny, a mercy from the heavens, giving me a chance to confess the feelings I had buried for so long to the man I loved with all my heart.

I waited eagerly for Jenson to visit. I was sure I would bravely confess everything, telling him I wasn’t sad at all, that I had actually liked him for a very long time. Not the way a sister likes a brother, but the way a woman loves a man.

But I never saw Jenson. Instead, I heard the news: unable to face me, he had been whipped bloody by Grandma Forrest and then sent abroad. By then, the physical wounds on my body had long healed, but only then did I feel my entire being truly get torn apart.

Later, I summoned the courage to call him, but I could never get through. When he finally answered my call, I tried to explain what happened that night, only to be met with his icy scorn. His tone was exactly the same as all the others who mocked and despised me. He wouldn’t believe me either. He said my affection disgusted him, that I was being pretentious.

Even so, I stubbornly refused to give up, shamelessly clinging to him for four years.

It’s all still so vivid. Too many grievances, too much pain, and too much disappointment surged into my heart, and tears splashed onto the ground. Each drop was a warning: Never look back!