All Chapters of Love Fades on the Peak: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

True to his words, the diary brimmed with entries, pages crammed with his scrawled thoughts in that familiar, looping handwriting.Certain phrases repeated like a mantra, leaping from the paper with insistent frequency.[Love you. Miss you terribly. Waiting for you. Getting married...]Yet, as I flipped to the final page, there were only three words.[I hate you.]The vehement strokes nearly tore through the paper. They seemed intent on branding themselves into eternity.The date inscribed below was November 27th—Brett's mother's death anniversary.On the same day, I'd called him to end it all....My medication was running low, pain keeping sleep at bay.I was in a hazy limbo until Sylvie's call pierced through. She suggested meeting at a café near the hospital.Arriving, I found her perched elegantly at a table. Her youthful glow effortlessly turned heads.No sooner had I settled into the seat opposite her than she slapped a lab report onto the table. "I'm pregnant with B

...During my stint abroad, my rental faced a middle-aged couple's home.They often invited me over for dinner, their house permeated by a distinctive, bespoke fragrance that clung to my clothes like a persistent memory.To rid myself of the scent, I'd bathe and change into fresh attire, using the interim to connect with Brett via video calls.On the day of his mother's death, I'd resolved not to intrude on his grief with a call. Yet, as evening deepened, the familiar fragrance intensified unnaturally in my room, choking the air.A chilling realization dawned: I wasn't alone.It was freezing that night. I couldn't escape, nor did I let the intruder leave alive.Draped in disheveled clothes, I stepped out and dialed Brett with numb fingers.Eight hours of time difference separated us. What came through was his raw and broken voice."If it's because I haven't visited these months, I'm sorry. I'll book a flight right after the funeral."Wind whipped through my torn clothes, ming

Releasing me, Brett erupted in a hollow, self-mocking laugh. "Such a convenient excuse! Your heart is truly stone."The venom in his parting glance threatened to consume me whole. "Fine, divorce it is. But the pain you caused me? You'll taste it too."...My terminal state rendered hospitalization pointless, so I returned home.In excruciating headaches, I'd swallow sleeping pills and curl on the sofa with Brett's diary.Commotion outside shattered my stupor. Barefoot, I peered through the curtains at a swarming crowd.I didn't know who they were or how they managed to get in.Spotting me, they surged like vultures and pressed against the glass. Their chants were blurry until a forceful shove cracked the window, allowing frigid air and clarity to rush in."Your take on your husband's affair with rising star Sylvie Green?"I stood frozen, flashes blinding me.This was Brett's vengeance, exposing our marital decay and reducing me to a public spectacle.A sharp screech pierced

Stanley's questions lacerated Brett, unearthing agonizing truths.Stanley added, "I leveraged your name to bring her back. She'd covertly scour news of you, hoping to reunite with you. I thought recovery was near until that charity event."Brett's eyes brimmed scarlet as he recalled the gala where our paths crossed again, leading to the forced marriage and isolation from Stanley.He searched hard in his memories for any clues until some fragments surged from the cracks and gripped his throat.There were moments I had tried to tell him, but he interrupted me every time.It was his ridiculous pride that kept him from listening. It was his fear of hearing Stanley's name that drove him to push me away."Your past repulses me. Spare me the details," he'd sneered, relishing my pain."It's evident that your marriage was vengeance," Stanley choked. "She thought she deserved it, so she ensured it silently. You despised her, yet she amplified that contempt exponentially."Brett's chest a

Stanley looked up, his eyes brimming with sorrow.Someone whispered, "My condolences. She is gone."Brett moved to the bed, refusing to believe it.Days apart, Erika'd withered further.He looked closely and noticed traces of blood on Erika's lips. Her furrowed brow suggested the pain she had endured."No, Erika is not dead," he mumbled, touching Erika's hair. "She is just in pain. Please, give us the room."Stanley hesitated, eyeing his dishevelment, then exited with the staff.Once the door shut, Brett took out the beads, the surface etched with dense scriptures.He had recited them repeatedly these past few days, believing they'd heal Erika.He tried to lift her wrist, but the crimson blood on his hand stopped him.Frowning, he wiped it clean with his sleeve before gently slipping the beads on her wrist.Hopeful, he watched Erika's face, but nothing happened.Not even her eyelashes fluttered.A sharp pain pierced his heart, but he suppressed it, convinced he needed to w