The brothers who fought for me (by Levi Bennett) novel Chapter 22

**A Promise Lost Between Two Worlds by Jaxon Hale Ryder**

After what felt like an eternity of wandering, Juliette finally found herself at a crossroads, both literally and metaphorically. The weight of her decision hung heavily in the air, a palpable tension that seemed to thicken with every step she took away from him.

Meanwhile, Giovanni remained in his original stance, a statue frozen in time. His body was still, yet his mind was a tempest, swirling with thoughts of her. His eyes were locked onto the path she had vanished down, as if trying to will her back into view. The atmosphere around him was thick with an eerie stillness, a graveyard silence that echoed his despair.

From the adjacent private room, Nathaniel emerged, his expression a mixture of concern and sympathy. He approached Giovanni, placing a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder, a gesture meant to bridge the chasm of sorrow that had opened between them. “Still watching her leave? She’s long gone, my friend,” he said, his voice tinged with a gentle helplessness.

At the sound of Nathaniel’s voice, Giovanni’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, as if awakening from a deep slumber. Slowly, he sank back into the chair behind him, a heavy silence enveloping him.

Nathaniel, unable to resist the urge to poke fun at his friend’s misery, teased, “Didn’t you insist just the other day that you saw Juliette as nothing more than a sister? That your marriage was merely a duty, devoid of any romantic feelings?” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Now that she’s walked away, do you find yourself regretting those words?”

The word “regret” struck Giovanni like a dagger, piercing deep into his heart. A wave of emotion surged through him, and he clenched his fists tightly, feeling the veins on his hands, neck, and temples bulge with raw intensity. It was as if the very force of his turmoil could break through his skin at any moment, a physical manifestation of the pain he felt inside.

Every declaration he had ever made about their relationship came rushing back to him, each one a cruel reminder of his own denial, each word a fresh wound. He shut his eyes tightly, and all he could conjure was the frigid look in Juliette’s eyes, a gaze that seemed to strip away all his defenses.

He had spent a lifetime in the shadow of Ezekiel, always feeling like the lesser man. Perhaps he had clung to the notion of “just a sister” as a way to shield himself from the pain of losing her. He thought that by downplaying his feelings, he could somehow soften the blow if she were ever taken from him.

As he sat there, lost in his thoughts, Nathaniel noticed the pallor of Giovanni’s face, and sensing the gravity of the moment, he quickly shifted the topic. “Wait a minute,” he said, suddenly serious. “Earlier, Juliette seemed really sick… Could it be that she’s pregnant?”

Giovanni’s eyes shot open wide, a spark of alarm igniting within him.

***

Ezekiel, once a carefree playboy who had never known the hard work of the kitchen, now found himself in an unfamiliar realm of domesticity. Day after day, he toiled over the stove, determined to win Juliette back. His hands bore the marks of his newfound endeavor—blisters from hot oil and cuts from the sharp knife that had become his reluctant companion.

Despite his efforts, the first thing Juliette did each day was toss aside the lunch he had prepared with painstaking care, discarding it like yesterday’s news. Yet, undeterred, he donned her favorite white shirt every morning, resolute in his mission to bring her food, come rain or shine.

Understanding that she did not wish to see him, he kept his distance, lurking in the shadows, waiting for a glimpse of her. But one fateful day, as he stood in his usual spot, anticipation turning to dread, Juliette never showed. His calls went unanswered, and the silence that filled the air was deafening.

Ezekiel’s heart sank, darkness clouding his thoughts. He pulled out his phone, ready to summon his connections to track her down, but then her words echoed in his mind—she despised being surveilled. Frustration boiled over, and he gripped his phone tightly, barking into the receiver, “All of you, come back! Stop looking! Don’t make my wife angry!”

After ending the call, he raked a hand through his hair, the usual confidence evaporating. In that moment, he resembled a large, forlorn dog abandoned by its owner, pacing back and forth, helpless and anxious.

Just then, the doorbell chimed, breaking the oppressive silence. Wayne entered, carrying an unusual package. As he unwrapped it, the contents revealed themselves—a glass jar submerged in formalin. Wayne’s face paled, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor.

“What’s wrong?” Ezekiel inquired, noticing the change in his friend.

“N-nothing,” Wayne stammered, hastily attempting to conceal the package, but Ezekiel was already on his feet, drawn to the contents like a moth to a flame.

His hands trembled as he picked up a miscarriage report from the package. The name “Juliette” leapt out at him, and in that instant, his world collapsed. He felt a coldness seep through his veins, his body shaking uncontrollably.

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