The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 288

Penelope had just taken another dose of medicine for her throat. She was feeling slightly better, but she had no interest in dealing with them.

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations,” Rebecca said with a strained laugh. “But why didn’t you ask me to be a bridesmaid? I asked you, remember?”

When Penelope still didn’t respond, Rebecca wrung her hands nervously. “As a friend, I am truly happy for you! Look at you, married to Theodore himself, with such a magnificent wedding. You’re Mrs. Stapleton now. I’ll have to count on you to look out for me in the future!”

“Your throat is bothering you, right? Let me peel an apple for you.”

After rambling on, Rebecca moved closer, picking up a fruit knife from the table to start peeling an apple.

Penelope was in no mood for this charade. She snatched the knife from Rebecca’s hand, spun it expertly, and aimed the tip directly at her. Rebecca gasped and stumbled backward. She knew Penelope’s temper all too well—she was fully capable of using that knife.

“Penelope, I was wrong, I apologize, you…” Rebecca clamped her mouth shut when she saw Penelope raise the knife higher.

Penelope gestured with her hand for Rebecca to move aside, then fixed her gaze on Zebulon, who had been cowering behind her. He stood with his shoulders slumped and his head down, the very picture of pathetic. She pointed to the painting in his hands, and Zebulon quickly brought it over to her.

“Penelope, th-this is my wedding gift to you.”

Penelope took the painting but didn’t accept his statement, tapping the table with the back of the knife instead.

“This… this was always your painting…” he stammered.

“Hmph.”

“I love you so much, but I’ve lost you. What am I supposed to do? I feel like I can’t go on living. Penelope, save me. You still have a little bit of feeling for me, don’t you? Don’t hate me, don’t resent me. Even if you only think of me as a friend from now on, I’m willing to accept that.”

He knew she would retaliate for everything he’d done, and now that they couldn't afford to offend her, he was resorting to this? First, appeal to their shared past, then feign repentance, and finally, use guilt to trap her into some kind of friendship?

“Penelope, just take pity on me. Don’t be too cruel. I can’t take it.” Zebulon’s sobs were gut-wrenching, a performance worthy of a professional actor.

Penelope let out a cold laugh. She flexed her wrists and ankles, then kicked him squarely in the chest. As he staggered backward, she grabbed a handful of his hair and delivered a rapid series of sharp slaps across his face.

He wanted to cry? Fine. She’d give him a reason to cry his heart out.