Reflections of the choices

Chapter twenty two. Part 2

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Disclaimer:

This chapter will be an emotional rollercoaster. So grab a hot drink, some treats, and tissues.

P.S.: I love Colin and wish him happiness.

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Colin's heart tightened, but he remained silent. He felt the wrath building in Philip and understood that he could not escape this conversation. A wave of fear washed over him—not from Philip, but from the thought of what he might do to Penelope, his wife, as he believed. In Philip's eyes burned a fire that could erupt into fury if he learned of the infidelity.

— You'd better get in my carriage now, Mr. Bridgerton, — Philip said, his face displaying anger and determination.

Colin nodded, realizing there was no point in resisting. He followed Philip into the carriage and suddenly noticed the marks on Philip's cheek and hands—scratches from a woman's nails. This dreadful sign of physical violence frightened Colin to the core. What could have happened? What horror had Philip endured, and what threat might he pose to Penelope?

Thoughts of what might happen to Penelope consumed him. He cared little for what Philip would do to him, but he had to see Penelope, to ensure that she was all right before he left.

In the carriage, an oppressive silence settled. Colin stared out the window, his mind filled with painful reflections. He felt the tension in the air mounting. He tried to gather his thoughts into a coherent picture, but anxiety clouded his focus. Each heartbeat reminded him of how crucial it was to control his emotions at this moment to avoid worsening the situation. He understood that Philip had the right to defend his honor, but he could not allow Penelope to suffer. Images of Penelope swirled in his mind—her gentle laughter, her smile, her warmth. How could he have harmed her, even indirectly? The scar on Philip's cheek continued to haunt him, instilling fear and a sense of guilt.

When Colin and Philip entered the house, he felt the weight enveloping him like a fog, penetrating every cell of his body. Dark thoughts swirled in his mind: what could have happened to Penelope? He knew they were heading to her room, and his heart raced with anxiety. Each step toward the door felt like an eternity, and the anticipation of seeing her, of knowing her state, filled him with dread.

Upon entering, the first thing that struck Colin was Penelope's tear-streaked face. Her eyes, once bright and full of life, were now clouded, as if hidden behind a layer of sorrow. Every breath she took seemed heavy, as if life itself were draining her of strength. His heart clenched with pain, as though someone were tightening a vice around it. He felt despair rising in his chest, each shiver that ran down his spine a reminder of how he had come to be in this terrible moment.

However, Philip's gaze made him freeze in place. Colin attempted to read the emotions on his face, but there was silence—an icy calm concealing a storm. Inside Philip, a true drama unfolded, yet on the surface remained a mask of control and determination. This contrast frightened Colin, like the silence before a storm. He could not help but notice how tense Philip's jaw was and how his fists were clenched, as if he were ready to explode at any moment.

Colin took a step toward Penelope, wishing to comfort her, but the moment she noticed him, fear distorted her features. In her eyes flickered something he did not want to see—horror and helplessness. She quickly glanced at Philip, and in her voice, panic resonated as she repeated her words in despair:

— No, please, no. Don't leave me with him!

These words pierced Colin like arrows, and he felt his own heart shatter into pieces. In that instant, he understood that her fear was directed not at Philip but at him. A storm cloud loomed overhead, and terror engulfed him, leaving only bitter feelings of guilt and the realization of what he had wrought.