Too Late For Regrets [Extra #1]

Part 31

Half a year. I had so little time left. It was hard knowing that I was going to die so soon.

"What can I do, doctor?" I asked, my voice trembling against my will.

"Well, for starters, avoid stress at all costs. High blood pressure will only make things worse."

"Meaning, I will die sooner if I get mad..." I chuckled bitterly. Avoiding stress was nearly impossible. It was a useless advice.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to," I sighed and got up. "Thank you for your time, doctor," I bid goodbye and left.

I went straight to my penthouse, where the weight of truth crashed down on me. I collapsed on the floor and cried my heart out. Then the despair gave place to fury.

As I destroyed one thing after another, I screamed in frustration, cursing everyone and everything. "Why me?! Why?! I don't deserve this!" I smashed the crystal vase against the wall then shoved everything off the dresser to the floor. The broken glass looked eerily like my soul. Shattered into such tiny pieces that nothing would be able to put it back together.

Living with the realization that I would die in mere six months, or even less, was too much for me to handle.

I didn't bother staying quiet and cried loudly in pure agony. The pain was unbearable. My heart felt as if someone stomped on it and ripped it out of my chest. My head almost burst from the pressure, and I could feel my blood pumping furiously through my veins.

Before I could destroy my whole house, a pair of arms stopped me, and I was pulled to hard chest. Through my tears, I saw it was my husband who held me, but I didn't hide my pain from him. I only cried louder.

He wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly against his chest, effectively stopping me from demolishing my house even more than it already was. He kept one of his hands on the back of my head, and the other around my shoulders as he whispered constant apologies into my ear.

"I'm so sorry. It's all my fault!" It was.

"Please forgive me!" I couldn't.

"I'm so sorry!" He was. I could tell.

I was torn between shoving him away and holding onto him. I chose the latter. At that moment, I would've welcomed an embrace even from my worst enemy.

I cried and cried and cried until I had no tears left. My husband kept apologizing and I felt his tears fall on my head. Knowing that he cried because of me didn't bring me satisfaction, though. I felt no need to hurt him anymore. Nothing made sense, even revenge.

I gave up on everything.

"How did you get in here?" I pulled away from him once I had no more strength to cry and went to the sofa to sit down. My legs almost gave in under me and there was no point in pretending to be strong. My husband already saw me break down, so why should I try to look good in front of him?

"Your secretary let me into your office, but then I heard breaking noises upstairs, so I decided to check it out."

"I should fire that guy," I chuckled bitterly.

"It's not his fault. I pressured him to let me in."

"Of course you did."

My husband walked over to me and kneeled before me. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what else I can do except apologize to you..."

I wanted to tell him it was his fault that I was in that state, but I couldn't. The words just didn't leave my mouth. At the same time, I wanted to yell at him, blame him for my death, hurt him in the worst way possible.

Yet something stopped me from doing that. I just couldn't hurt him more. I didn't know why.

"I want to be alone," I told him softly, curling up on my sofa and looking out the window.

"I don't think you should be alone now," my husband retorted with a worried frown, carefully sitting on the coffee table so he could face me. "I understand you probably don't want to see me, but if there's anyone you feel comfortable with, I will call them for you. Please, I'm worried about you."

"No. I want to be alone. Completely alone." Just like I was going to be when I died.

"If something happens or you need to talk or anything, please call me," my husband carefully grabbed my hand and tenderly stroked the back of it. "Please."

"I will," I lied. "Now please leave."

My husband only nodded silently and left my house. Once I was alone, I once again succumbed to the darkness that loomed over me. I don't know how long I stayed on that sofa. I ended up falling asleep there. When I woke up, I was no longer on the sofa, though, and instead found myself in my bed, tucked into a fluffy blanket.

"You're awake," I heard my husband sigh in relief as he walked over with a tray. "I found you sleeping on the couch... you looked uncomfortable, so I brought you here. I'm sorry if you're not okay with me touching you, but you looked like you were in pain."

"Will you keep apologizing for everything? You don't have to," I told him and sat up on my bed. "What day is it?"

"You've been asleep for a whole day."

"And how long have you been here?"

"Since morning," he admitted almost shyly. "I know you don't like it. I'll leave. I just wanted to check up on you."

"You can stay if you want. As long as you don't drink," I couldn't help but throw a quick jab at him. Though I felt like a prick afterwards.

"I will never drink again, I can promise you that," he swore solemnly.

I was reluctant to believe him, but deep inside I actually trusted his words. Now that he knew what he was capable of doing while drunk, he must've decided to give up alcohol.

My husband didn't spend much time at my house and left as soon as he saw me finish my breakfast. After he left, I went back to bed and fell asleep.

I wanted nothing more than drown in darkness.

For a while, I deliberated on what to do with my company and... the other job. I wouldn't be able to continue working there with a ticking bomb in my head. I was the Red Empress, I couldn't be weak.

It was time to hand over the throne to someone else. I already had a person in mind.

My lovely Duke. He would do great as a leader, and I'd always wanted him to be my successor. He built the 'empire' with me, so he was the best candidate for a King, well, an Emperor.

Having made my decision, I called the dukes to my office the next day. They came right on time to find me pacing around the room nervously. "Wow, now that's a sight I never thought I'd see," one of them jokes as he gently hugged me in greeting.

"You mean me in a cast or me nervous?" I retorted before greeting the others.

"Both, actually. What happened to your arm?" the duke asked worriedly.

"I had an... accident," I revealed reluctantly. "I fell down the stairs."

They all gasped in shock, knowing well that I wasn't clumsy enough to just 'fall'. They quickly understood there was more behind the incident, but they didn't ask any questions. I was grateful they respected my privacy.

"I have an important announcement for you," I told them solemnly, easily killing the happy mood they were in. "I'm leaving the company and my position as the Empress."

They all sat silently for a while, before realizing that I wasn't joking. Their reactions varied from shocked and bewildered to mad.

The mad one was my Duke. He seemed... betrayed. He must've felt that I would leave him. I wasn't going to do that. We once swore to each other to stay together. We promised that we would even die together, though in my situation it would be quite difficult. I couldn't possibly let my Duke die with me in mere six months.

"Why?" one of the dukes choked out, while a lone tear rolled down his cheek. I was surprised to see it.

I had two choices – lie to them or tell them the truth.