She thought he didn't love her, that he couldn't bear to face her. But in that moment, Lizetta suddenly realized she might've been completely wrong. If he didn't want to face her, he would've blindfolded himself, not her.
Remington must've thought she didn't love him; that was why he'd been holding back all this time, scared to frighten her.
He said he loved her, but she could never feel it. Strangely enough, right now, she felt a glimpse of his restrained love.
He probably wasn't as strong as she perceived, always on top, leading effortlessly. He, too, had his insecurities, his fears.
In an instant, Lizetta gripped the edge of the table, her nails digging into the wood grain, feeling an overwhelming sadness.
Tears seeped from her tightly shut eyes. It was such a pity; she realized too late.
If she'd known earlier, maybe they could've connected, built trust, and she would have the courage to weather any storm with him.
But there were no ifs. So much had happened, so many obstacles.
Their minds had changed; trust had collapsed. She wasn't brave anymore; it seemed they couldn't go back.
Remington's palms were sweaty, his handsome face pallid. He closed his eyes tightly, and then kissed Lizetta on the forehead, his voice hoarse, "Don't cry. I'm sorry."
He reached for a blanket, wrapping her up, and lifted her in his arms.
In the bathroom, the sound of running water filled the space as Lizetta had prepared a bath earlier.
Now, as the tub overflowed, Remington turned off the tap, checked the water's temperature, and then gently placed Lizetta, who was still wrapped in the blanket, into the tub. The sound of water drowned out Remington's departing footsteps.
Lizetta lay in the warm water, her rigid, cold body slowly warming and relaxing. When she opened her eyes from the bathroom, Remington was already gone.
Hugging herself slowly, covering her face, her shoulders shaking slightly, she finally sobbed out loud.
In the days that followed, the man who used to come home every day was now busy, not returning for a couple of days.
Lizetta was occupied with her dance troupe's performances. Lying alone in the big bed late at night, she'd sometimes think of Remington.
She thought he must be tired too. She also thought, with Stella so proactive, and the West family along with Hanna's support, their progress must be rapid.
Even without prying, the news of the West family's long-lost daughter being found and making high-profile appearances in various upscale places reached Lizetta's ears. It was said, Martin and Barbara were overjoyed.
When the second round of performances in Zion City ended successfully, the dance drama was a total hit.
Exiting the dressing room, Lizetta found the corridor blocked with baskets of flowers from fans. Entering the restroom, a cleaner followed her in.
While she was washing her hands, the cleaner, cleaning the counter, suddenly spoke.
"Ms. Gardenia, be ready on the first night of the Summer City performance. That night, the West family will hold a welcome-back dinner for Ms. West. Ms. West will keep Mr. Dashiell busy, and someone will help you leave the country."
Lizetta's movements stopped abruptly, her hands clenched. She took a deep breath before responding.
"I got it. Please also tell the West family that my friend is fully aware of my departure. If they can't ensure my safe exit from the country, or if I can't contact my friend smoothly, she'll immediately inform Remington."
Of course, Lizetta couldn't fully trust Stella or the West family. But if something happened to her, it'd leave a thorn in Remington's heart.
Stella, wanting to be with Remington and being so cautious even about sending her away, wouldn't likely be fool enough to take such a big risk.
After all, with her departure, Stella would have her chance.
"I'll convey Ms. Gardenia's message."
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