Chapter 372: Sleepless Night
Sean Sterling sat stiffly on the sofa, his back ramrod straight.
He clutched the slightly yellowed ultrasound report, its edges wrinkled from his tight grip.
The faint outlines of two small gestational sacs were blurry, yet they were seared into his vision with impossible clarity.
That had been the closest he had ever come to happiness. It was the future he had so eagerly awaited, a future that had been within his grasp.
He had even pictured it in his mind countless times: the sheer bliss of a stable, happy family of four once the children were born.
But in the end, that fervent hope had been ruthlessly crushed by his own mother’s hands, reduced to nothing.
How could he not hate her?
With a trembling hand, Sean Sterling reached out. His fingertips caressed the flimsy sheet of paper with extreme care, as if touching a fragile, priceless treasure.
His entire arm was trembling, the tension spreading to his shoulders and back.
’These were his children. The children Isla Griffith had carried for him. The twins he had longed for.’
He still remembered how proud and ecstatic he had been when he first received the report, so much so that he couldn’t wait to show it off to everyone.
’He wouldn’t have to be jealous of Adrian Lancaster anymore. He was going to be a father, too. He was going to have twins, too.’
The clearer those memories became, the sharper the ache in his chest grew.
A suffocating ache bloomed in his chest, a dull throb spreading through his veins to every limb, making even breathing feel heavy and laborious.
Every breath he drew felt like inhaling shards of ice that scraped his lungs raw.
"I’m sorry. Daddy failed to protect you, and I failed to protect your mother."
"Daddy is to blame. I was useless... I’m so sorry, so sorry..."
Sean Sterling’s eyes were downcast, his hoarse voice filled with endless regret and anguish.
The tears finally broke free, falling silently onto the ultrasound report and blurring the ink.
He lost track of time as the sky outside the window slowly darkened.
The apartment was dark. Only the faint light from a few scattered streetlights filtered in, casting Sean Sterling’s solitary shadow long across the floor.
He remained frozen in that stiff posture, like a soulless statue.
Much later, Sean Sterling slowly moved his numb body. He rose, walked to the bedroom, and took one of Isla Griffith’s nightgowns from the closet—one she often wore.
The nightgown seemed to retain her faint, clean scent of gardenia. It was her scent, the gentle warmth he had craved for countless days and nights.
Sitting back down on the sofa, Sean Sterling hugged the nightgown tightly, with enough force to seemingly press Isla Griffith’s very essence into his bones.
His other hand still clutched the ultrasound report. The paper, soaked soft by his tears, was now even more deeply creased. He treated it like a priceless treasure, unwilling to let it go.
The night felt as long as a lifetime.
Sean Sterling sat motionless in the dark, memories of his time with Isla Griffith flashing through his mind again and again.
Her playful, coquettish smiles as she nestled in his arms. The sound of her voice as she stroked her belly, laughing about how well-behaved the babies were. Her asking him to choose their names...
Then, the scene in his mind shifted.
Isla Griffith’s pale, fragile face after losing the children; her heartbroken refusal to see him; the determined set of her back as she left without a word—each memory was a sharp blade, twisting again and again in his heart.
The night grew late and cold, a chill seeping up from the floorboards and through his entire body, but Sean Sterling was oblivious.
The nightgown in his arms held a faint warmth, as if he could still feel the lingering heat from Isla Griffith’s body.
He buried his face deep into the soft fabric, greedily inhaling the fading scent as a choked sob finally broke the silence of the apartment.
The nightgown in his arms grew damp with his tears, and the ultrasound report in his palm was already soaked through.
He whispered Isla Griffith’s name over and over, muttering apologies to their two children. His voice, hoarse and broken, echoed in the room but received no reply.
...
The night in Avenia was quiet, the only sound the chirping of crickets outside the window.
The room was unlit, cloaked in darkness.
Isla Griffith leaned against the headboard, her back pressed to the cool wall, her gaze fixed on the bright moon outside the window.
Silvery moonlight streamed through a crack in the window, falling on her unadorned face. It softened her features, but also seemed to deepen the inescapable longing in her eyes.
The pain of losing her children was still carved into her heart, a constant, bitter ache.
At this moment, however, her thoughts were consumed by Sean Sterling.
Her mind replayed one beautiful memory after another of their time together.
The first time he held her hand, their first hug, their first kiss. The first time he whispered hotly in her ear that he loved her and wanted to make her his wife.
He was always finding new ways to give her gifts, creating surprises and moments of romance.
He indulged her little moods, doted on her like a princess, and couldn’t bear to let her do housework or get upset.
Whatever she wanted, he would present it to her with both hands.
Then came the day she told him she was pregnant. The pure, unadulterated joy that exploded in his eyes, his elation as he spun her around in his arms.
She remembered nestling in his arms as they imagined their simple, happy life as a family of four after the children were born.
She remembered him seriously mulling over names for the babies, the sheer anticipation impossible to hide in his expression...
Those moments were her most precious memories.
If Yvonne Donovan hadn’t interfered, she truly would have married Sean Sterling. She would have given herself to him—heart and soul—to love him freely and be with him forever.
However, there were no ’what ifs’.
Yvonne Donovan’s prejudice was a sharp thorn lodged deep in Isla Griffith’s heart, a constant reminder that she and Sean Sterling were not from the same social class.
Coupled with the pain of losing her children, she could no longer stay by his side.
Her abrupt departure, her decision to leave him, was never because she didn’t love him. It was because she refused to become Sean Sterling’s burden. She didn’t want him to be abandoned by everyone and lose everything for her sake.
Isla Griffith had thought that letting go was for the best, that it was the only way to give Sean Sterling a happy ending.
But she had never imagined that her sacrifice, her departure, wouldn’t help Sean Sterling get his life back on track. Instead, it had caused him to sever all ties with the Sterling family completely.
A bitter sorrow filled her heart. Isla Griffith pressed a hand to her aching chest and gazed at the lonely moon, her eyes turning red.
"Sean Sterling, how could you be so foolish?"
"I left. You could have gone back to your old life. Why did you give up everything for me?"
The cold moonlight bathed Isla Griffith’s slender form. Leaning against the headboard, she felt no desire to sleep.
Her heart, full of longing and turmoil, ached in the silent darkness.
She didn’t know if leaving him had been the right thing to do.
She didn’t know if she and Sean Sterling would ever have a chance to meet again.
All she could do was gaze at the bright moon, silently longing for the man far away, her turbulent emotions keeping sleep at bay.
A faint glow began to appear on the horizon, and the moon vanished from the sky.
The sky outside turned from black to gray, and the first light of dawn slipped through a gap in the curtains, illuminating Sean Sterling’s bloodshot eyes and haggard face.
He, too, had not slept all night. Exhaustion finally hit him, and he collapsed onto the sofa, fast asleep. Even in his dreams, he called out Isla Griffith’s name.