The door to Alexander's study room wasn't locked. Isabelle lightly pushed, and it opened.

The study room was silent. She stuck her head in instinctively, and froze at the sight.

The study room was no longer how it looked before, the exquisite and grand decor long gone. It was a hideous mess now.

Isabelle stood in a daze for about a minute before getting her senses back. She forced the shock down and walked in to take a closer look. In the middle of the room floor, Alexander lay with his eyes wide open, as he stared at the ceiling. He seemed to be in deep thought, his face a mask of misery.

Isabelle felt her heart clench. The next moment, she saw him spit out a mouthful of blood, his face turning white.

"Alexander!" she screamed, running into the study room.

As she approached, she realized that there were multiple cuts on his body, caused by the glass shards on the floor. Her heart sank. Instinctively, she froze momentarily, then reached out to help him up.

But the moment she touched his arm, he seemed to have been electrocuted, tossing her hand away instantly, then pushing her onto the floor.

The spot that she landed didn't have any glass, but her arm had hit onto the lamp, causing a cut to form.

Isabelle frowned, but she didn't look at her injury. Her gaze was focused on Alexander.

His perfect features appeared cold and distant, his eyes holding a menacing glint.

It wasn't the first time Isabelle had seen him having a fit, but it was never with such an intensity. He was filled with so much hatred that it scared her.

Isabelle was slightly frightened. She wanted to approach him but paused, looking at him for a long while. When she confirmed that he wasn't going to do anything sudden or extreme, she reached out a hand towards his arm. After touching him, she reached back swiftly, to ensure that he wasn't going to push her away again. Since he didn't react, with slightly more courage this time, she moved over gingerly, calling out his name softly.

Isabelle didn't have much courage, hence she only dared to call him softly in a faint voice that seemed to have came with the wind. The voice had a magical effect on Alexander, calming his angry heart, bringing his sense back, bit by bit. With bloodshot eyes, he finally managed to focus and turned to look at Isabelle's careful yet protective face. That was when he fully awoke.

Madam Mary, who was watching television, had heard Isabelle's scream and had shouted "Mrs. Smith" several times worriedly from below. But when there was no response, she had hurriedly ran up towards the open study room. The sight startled her. When she saw Alexander's state, she shouted in shock, "Mr. Smith, what's wrong?"

She walked over, exclaiming, "Mr. Smith, why do you have so many cuts? I'll call for the doctor!"

"No need for that..." After Alexander's mother had died in the hospital, he had never liked to see doctors and had never once called for the family one. Even with so many cuts, he felt that it wasn't serious enough, dismissing Madam Mary.

"But.." He had so many cuts... And it was currently summer, exposing his injuries to infection. What if there were glass shards left in his body? Madam Mary had wanted to argue more, but she turned and saw Isabelle's injured arm, and immediately exclaimed again, "Mrs. Smith, why are you injured as well? It might leave a scar if not properly treated."

Alexander immediately looked over at her arm, the sight of of her injured arm bringing the roughness of his actions to mind. He frowned and without hesitation commanded, "Why are you still in a daze? Hurry and call for the doctor."

After achieving her aim, Madam Mary replied with a faint "Yea" before rushing to make the call.

Madam Mary called the private hospital closest to York Garden. After about ten minutes, the doctor arrived.

By then, both Isabelle and Alexander had returned to the bedroom. Madam Mary brought the doctor over to them.

As compared to Alexander's injury, Isabelle's was considered minor, there wasn't a need to call for the doctor. Even if she didn't disinfect the wound, it would fully recover in a few days. Hence, Madam Mary pointed to Alexander, who was on the sofa. "You can treat Mr. Smith's injuries first."

The doctor placed his bag down, and when he was about to check on Alexander, he spoke in a faint voice, "Treat her first."

"I'm fine." Isabelle didn't even feel pain anymore, hence she shook her head.

The both of them kept pushing the doctor away, so he stood still, unsure of what to do. He looked at Isabelle then at Alexander before finally silently using his eyes to plead them for advice.

Isabelle spoke again. "He vomited blood just now, find out whats wrong."

"Treat her." After Isabelle had finished her sentence, Alexander spoke again in a calm tone, his voice laced with authority and forcefulness, as though he was afraid that Isabelle would defy him once more. Turning to her, with a much warmer and softer voice, he said, "You go first."

Without hesitation, the doctor walked to Isabelle. "I'm sorry, could you show me your arm?"

Isabelle had wanted to argue more, but when she heard Alexander's "You go first", she just shut her mouth and reached her arm out to show the doctor.

The cut wasn't serious and anyone could have treated it. The doctor skillfully disinfected and wrapped it up. After five minutes, everything was done. He turned to Alexander. "Mr. Smith, it's your turn."

Alexander ignored him, asking instead, "How much is it?"

The doctor was startled, how much? Does that mean that he came over just to treat such a small injury?

Isabelle frowned, but before she could speak, Madam Mary said anxiously, "Mr. Smith, you haven't been treated yet."

"There's no need for that," Alexander replied impatiently, glaring at Madam Mary, and signaled for her to send the doctor off. "Madam Mary, pay the bill and lead him out."

"Mr. Smith..."

"I said it's fine," Alexander cut her off.

"Mrs. Smith.." Madam Mary looked at the blood stained shirt and pleaded towards Isabelle.

Isabelle looked at Alexander. She was aware that he didn't like doctors and would not get treated by them even if he was seriously injured. She bit her lip before standing to smile apologetically at the doctor. "I'm sorry to have troubled you to come here, let me send you down."

Madam Mary looked with worry at Alexander, but she had no right to make any comment. She followed behind Isabelle as she sent the doctor down.

Before sending the doctor out, she asked, "Doctor, can you give me some medicine that can be used to treat injuries? Madam Mary will settle the bill with you."

The doctor nodded, opening his bag to take a bottle of disinfectant, some medicine, bandages, and plasters out. He thought for a bit before handing her a box of anti-inflammatory medicine as well, informing her of the dosage and how often it should be taken. Isabelle wrote everything down before letting Madam Mary send the doctor out.

With the items the doctor had given her, she went back upstairs. When she entered the room, she found Alexander smoking in front of the window. She placed everything on the sofa, then took large strides towards him.

Wordlessly, Isabelle reached out and snatched Alexander's cigarette.

"How can you smoke when you have so many injuries?" she chastised, throwing the cigarette into the ash tray. When she saw a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his other hand, she snatched then over without hesitation, throwing them into the rubbish bin.

Her actions were smooth and swift, and Alexander looked at her without any anger or blame.

After dealing with the smoke, she pulled him to the sofa.

Alexander looked down at her small hands that had grabbed him, his eyes turning gentle. Without any resistance, he followed her obediently like a lamb.

Isabelle pointed to the sofa and instructed, "Sit." She took an antiseptic towel and started to wipe her hands.

Alexander remained silent, sitting on the sofa obediently.

Isabelle knelt in front of the coffee table and started fiddling with the medicine that the doctor had given her. She took a cotton wool ball out and tore the wrapper. Turning to Alexander, she commanded again,

"Take off your shirt."

Isabelle tapped the cotton wool ball in antiseptic before starting to disinfect his wounds, her heart clenching with each swipe. His back to her, there was a faint smile on his face.

The glass shards were tiny, so even though there were many injuries, they weren't deep and the blood had already stopped flowing. Isabelle disinfected them, one by one, before applying the medicine.

Alexander could feel the gentleness of her hands caressing his wounds. The anger started dissipating, leaving heartache and tenderness behind.

After Madam Mary had sent the doctor off, she went back upstairs to check on them. When she reached the bedroom door, she could see from the opening that Alexander was sitting on the sofa while Isabelle at the side, helping him apply the medicine.

Even though there wasn't a conversation, through the dim light scattering on their bodies, she could tell that it was a peaceful moment and that her worries were unfounded.

Madam Mary didn't disturb them, she went back down silently.

After Isabelle had applied the medicine, she poured a cup of water and passed it to Alexander. She took four pills and pushed them to him. In a light voice, she said, "Have some anti-inflammatory pills, this is to prevent infection. And you can't shower today, it'll probably scab and become better by tomorrow."

Even though there wasn't much emotion on Alexander's face, but deep inside he felt all warm and tingly. He didn't object or hesitate, reaching over to take the pills and swallowing them.

Isabelle looked as Alexander drank the cup of water. After a while, she asked in exasperation, "What exactly happened to make you so mad?"

Alexander felt his throat choke up. He remained silent for a long while, trying to force his saliva down. "Company matters."

When Alexander replied, Isabelle could see a murderous glint in his eyes.

She knew that he wasn't being honest, and she also knew that the lie was to humor her, but if he wasn't willing to tell her the truth, she would never force it out, regardless of how curious she was.

It was definitely an extremely painful and torturous thing.

Any woman that was treated in such a fickle way by the man she loved would feel a sense of despair and uneasiness. Isabelle was well aware that he didn't love her, but when their relationship had slightly gotten better, she couldn't help sinking deeper and deeper. But on the day of his birthday, she had woken up completely and had been reminding herself since not to be deceived anymore.

But what does it mean to really love someone?

Was it knowing that even though he didn't love you, that he could hurt you, you still couldn't help worrying and showing concern when he was down?

That was because you would hope that he was happy, and because you would be affected when he was sad.

Isabelle knew that she didn't have a backbone. She should have stopped loving him on the day of his birthday, when he had treated her that way, but she couldn't. She had been loving him for thirteen years, loved him for his strength and his flaws. One could say that she was silly or maybe even dumb, but by that moment, she had ignored him for far too many days. Right then, all she was left with was care and concern.

In a small voice, she said, "Don't be sad, no matter what it is, it'll be over with in time. Remember never to hurt yourself, even if you're angry."

Sometimes, the person you love would have a mysterious power over you, a simple sentence would be enough to melt you completely.

Isabelle's words were like a pot of honey, wrapping Alexander in warmth and sweetness, gratitude and love, spreading straight to his heart.

He turned his head to look at her and saw that her hand was wrapped in a bandage. When his eyes rose to her face, he seemed to be in deep thought and wanted to say something but nothing came out. In the end, he reached his hand out to pull her into his arms.

He hugged her tightly, his eyes starting to sting, his heart warm and full.

In a low voice, he said. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

Isabelle's heart melted. If it had been a second ago, she would still have been thinking of the bad things that he had done to her, but right now, she no longer cared. She lifted her arm and circled his waist, then assured him, "It's all right."

Alexander rubbed his chin on the tip of her head. After a while, he spoke again. "I'm sorry."

Isabelle thought that he was still apologizing for the injury on her arm, hence she said again, "It's all right." She paused for a bit before adding forcefully, "It's all right, besides, it's a small injury."

Alexander remained silent, but he tightened his embrace.

His second apology was not because of the injury, it was because of their child.

He was sorry that he had implicated her, causing the death of their child.

He was sorry that he wasn't a good father and wasn't able to protect the child properly.