He was in a hurry to confirm something, but he bumped into Dr. Marlon at the door.
"Mr. Alvarez, why are you in such a rush? Are you going to see Dr. Terra?"
Maximo paused for two seconds and the heavy feeling that had been weighing on his heart instantly vanished at those words.
His face turned cold. "You took over Terra's case?"
Dr. Marlon nodded and sighed. "It's been quite a while. You should hurry up and deal with it."
“Deal with what? Deal with her taking advantage of me?” He scoffed. “I’ve been way too lenient with her.”
“It was just a small car accident. Matilda, who’s actually fragile, is completely fine. Yet she—strong as an ox—pretends to be dying. She even made Matilda cry from guilt and now she has the audacity to ask you to defend her.”
Dr. Marlon was dumbfounded for a long time before finally realizing what Maximo meant.
Anger flashed in his eyes and he grabbed Maximo's collar.
"I thought you were just quiet and reserved, that you at least had some basic decency. I never imagined you were such a scumbag."
"Maximo, you're a beast! Terra is incredibly unlucky to have fallen for you."
"Do you know that after that car accident, Terra... she's already..."
Maximo impatiently shoved him away.
"Already what? You don't mean to say she's dead, right?!"
Dr. Marlon froze.
Seeing this, Maximo smiled knowingly, a mocking smile on his face.
"She'd better be really dead. Trying to use such despicable means to fight for Matilda's affections? Then I hope her wish comes true."
He straightened his askew collar and said matter-of-factly, "Go tell her that she must apologize for her mistake. If I don't see her apologize to Matilda by tomorrow, the wedding is off."
With that, he turned and left, phone screen black.
Dr. Marlon stood behind him, his face ashen with anger, muttering dejectedly, "It's better if you don't get married. A scumbag like you doesn't deserve a girl as good as Terra."
Maximo, seething with anger, tossed his phone to the repairman, paid three times the usual fee and got it home in an hour.
"Terra..." The empty house held no familiar aroma of food, no gentle response.
He stood at the door, enveloped by a piercing chill.
The next second, without even taking off his shoes, he rushed into the bedroom.
Only after seeing all my clothes and skincare products still in their places did he collapse onto the floor, utterly exhausted.
A barely perceptible smile played on his lips—that resolute smile I knew all too well.
He was certain I loved him to the core and could never bear to leave.
He pulled out his phone and sent me a message, as if bestowing a favor, [Terra, you're the one who pretended to be dead and lied. Go home now and apologize properly and I'll forgive you.]
The message went unanswered.
He replied coldly, [No reply in half an hour, wedding canceled.]
He waited for an hour.
The quiet air felt heavy and suffocating him.
Just when I thought Maximo's patience had run out, he suddenly put down his phone, stood up and opened the refrigerator.
Half an hour later, three of my favorite dishes were on the table.
He snapped a photo and sent it to me, [I already told you I treated Matilda first because she had a seizure. You were only lightly bumped a few times, but she was scared and crying. Can’t you be more understanding?]
He sighed, as if making some grand compromise, [You don’t have to apologize this time. But don’t let it happen again. We’re getting married—don’t be so childish. Come back soon, we’ll get our marriage certificate after dinner.]
