The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 380

It wasn’t until the moment Mr. Anderson’s urn was placed in the burial plot, just before the earth was to be filled in, that she finally snapped back to reality. She fell to her knees, clutching the urn.

“Dad, why didn’t you let me be with you at the end? Why did you have to leave so suddenly?”

Theodore knelt beside her. “Dad,” he said, his voice firm, “I will keep the promise I made to you. Rest easy. I will take care of Penelope. For the rest of my life.”

Only a small group of people attended the funeral. Norton stayed by Timothy’s side while Theodore held Penelope. After paying their respects, they began to walk down the hill. One person, however, remained behind, his gaze fixed on the tombstone next to Mr. Anderson’s.

Rachel?

Donald frowned, a strange feeling stirring within him. After a long moment of hesitation, he stepped closer to examine the photograph on the headstone.

Is it her?

It looked a little like her, but not quite. The woman he remembered was bright and vibrant, a joyful spirit who moved through campus like an elf, or stood amidst nature with a paintbrush in hand, splattered with color but still radiating happiness. He had seen her cry, but even her tears had been beautiful.

No, that’s not her.

Donald came to a conclusion and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started down the hill.

For days afterward, Penelope existed in a fog of grief. One evening, lost in memories, she sat in the bathtub for so long that Theodore, panicked, broke down the door and rushed in.

“What… what’s wrong?” she asked innocently.

Seeing that she was unharmed, Theodore’s panic turned to anger. He lifted her out of the tub, not even bothering to dry her off, and tossed her onto the bed before pinning her beneath him.

“I was going to wait, but it seems you’re ready now.”

Penelope shrank back, a little afraid of this side of him. “Ready for what?”

“To settle our accounts.”

“What accounts?”

“Those words you said.”

“I’ve already spoken to my mother. She won’t interfere in our lives anymore.”

“What? What did you say to her?”

“First, you take back what you said. Then I’ll tell you.”

“But words are like spilt water. How can I take them back?”

“Lick them up.”

“How do I do that?” she asked, playfully sticking out her tongue and licking her lower lip.

That was all it took. Theodore’s control snapped. He crushed his lips to hers, his hands roaming her body with a bruising intensity. Soon, she lost all her cleverness and defiance, her pleas for mercy lost in his kiss.

“I was wrong! I shouldn’t have said those things! I… I regretted it the moment I said it!”

“Regretted it? Hah! I’m going to show you the consequences of a sharp tongue.”