Love Says She Once Returned

Chapter 6 She's Gone, But Not Erased

　　Chloe landed the second slap right after the first without skipping a beat…

　　When the third one was done, Brandon crouched down, leaned close to Elena's ear, and whispered, “Does it hurt?”

　　He straightened up, gazing down at the woman in front of him. His hands hung mid-air, frozen, as if they didn't know where to go. Something soft twisted deep inside his chest—it hurt, a tidal wave of pain. The sting of betrayal from the one he loved, the sight of comrades falling one after another, the fire of war scorching his flesh…

　　Compared to all that, what were three slaps?

　　Gabriel was gone. Maybe the woman in front of him—her heart went with him.

　　He pulled back his cold fingertips and turned, helping Chloe and her mother to their feet. Without looking back once, he left. Elena collapsed onto the cold ground, a mess. Sophie rushed in and quickly held her up.

　　They say, “What eases sorrow? Nothing but wine.”

　　But Brandon found booze only made it worse. Case in point—empty bottles now lined up on the floor in front of him.

　　Still, the memories he wanted to drown only got clearer. The pain, the good old days—they all came rushing back, completely uninvited.

　　From behind, a pair of soft arms wrapped around his neck.

　　Drunk out of his mind, Brandon grabbed the arm tightly. “Once this is over, I'll take you to the Aegean Sea, like I promised ages ago.”

　　Chloe froze for a second. She knew he wasn't talking to her—not really. That smile stayed on her face, bright as ever, but there was a silent sting behind it. “Sure. Anywhere you want to go, I'm right there with you.”

　　Brandon turned and pulled her into a tighter hug, his breath hot against her neck. His brows furrowed slightly—something felt off. The scent was wrong. Still, he held her tighter, demanding urgently, “Call me Brandy. Do it. Just like before.”

　　Chloe's eyes filled with warmth. She had thought that woman was finally erased from his heart, but now she realized—those roots ran far deeper than she expected.

　　But it didn't matter. No matter how deep they were, she believed if she just stayed close and never left, one day she'd take Elena's place in his heart. She had to.

　　“Brandy…” she murmured sweetly, lacing her voice with pure affection, then pressed her soft lips onto his—his mouth, his cheek, and then down to his throat…Her slender fingers fumbled to unbutton his shirt, and just as she reached the second button, her hands were caught mid-motion. Brandon stared at the woman in front of him, his eyes glazed from the alcohol. He squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, murmuring under his breath, “No… not right… you're not her… not even close…” Then, in the next second, Chloe was shoved away.

　　“Leave,” he muttered, snatching his glass and taking a hard drink.

　　Unwilling to give up, Chloe rushed back and hugged him tightly. “I love you, Brandon. It's always been me. If you let me, I'd give up everything for you—just like before.”

　　She leaned in, trying to kiss him again—but once more, he pushed her away, harder this time. She fell back, landing awkwardly.

　　“I said get out! Get lost!” Brandon's roar exploded from deep within, like a beast woken from its cage, wild and terrifying.

　　Chloe shivered, fear gripping her as tears spilled from the corners of her eyes.

　　“Brandon… our engagement party is in a few days. Tomorrow… can we go try on the outfits together?” Her voice was small, almost pleading.

　　For a long moment, Brandon didn't say anything. His lips were pressed into a thin line. Engagement? Yeah… he was actually about to be engaged to Chloe. But why did that thought feel so... empty?

　　His breathing grew heavy, uneven. The veins on his hands bulged as if he were trying desperately to hold something back.

　　“Fine. I remember. You should go first.”

　　The clicking of her heels echoed in rhythmic taps on the floor, fading until the hallway went silent again.

　　The room fell back into stillness.

　　Brandon staggered into the room Elena once stayed in, collapsing onto the pillow she used to sleep on. It was still soft, still smelled faintly like her. His long fingers gripped it tightly, almost like he didn't want to let go.

　　Reaching beneath the pillow, his fingers brushed against something solid.

　　He pulled it out and froze—it was an old Desert Eagle, completely taken apart.

　　It had been her 18th birthday present from him.

　　She once said she wanted a gun, so he'd gone out of his way to find a rare, high-end collector's piece for her. But she didn't want any of those. Instead, she picked his old Desert Eagle—the one always by his side.

　　She used to tear it apart into pieces, then struggle for hours failing to put it back together. He'd gone over it with her, time after time, but she never got the hang of it.

　　Stupid girl.

　　Because he always teased her about it, she started hiding it every time she messed it up, thinking she'd reconstruct it in secret and show off one day. But every time, Brandon spotted it.

　　His hand brushed over the scattered parts as a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Stupid girl. Can't even put it back together. Did you think I wouldn't find it if you hid it?”

　　Just like before, he began reassembling the gun with practiced fingers. His head throbbed painfully as he worked, but he refused to stop. That stubborn look on his face—it was like a kid fixated on getting his candy.