It Should Have Been Like This (The Revised Version)

Chapter 70: The Truth in Dream (2)

You should have let your foolish, gullible, and utterly naive child know the full extent of his selfishness and callousness. You should have ensured that I came to hate him with an unwavering, burning intensity—a hatred that would have been impossible for anyone or anything to diminish. And most egregiously, you never should have designated him as my next guardian, should anything ever happen to you. That decision has only served to open the door for him to potentially re-enter my life and inflict even more pain and suffering.

I can only imagine the turmoil and anguish you must have endured, Mom. The thought of that heartless, deceitful man betraying your trust and abandoning you and your unborn child fills me with a seething rage. You deserved so much better than the cruel hand fate dealt you. If only you had confided in me, I could have channeled that anger towards him, ensuring he never had the opportunity to worm his way back into my life.

If you had instead entrusted my upbringing to Ferris' mother, Izabelle, it would have been a vastly different path for me. I never would have met the man who ultimately destroyed your heart and foolishly sought after his love. I never would have debased myself to the level of a pitiful slave for him, his wife, and my half-brothers. I would have never wasted my time, slowly losing myself and my sanity with each passing day. And I certainly never would have encountered the man who nearly ruined my life.

If Izabelle had raised me, Rominic would have had to find someone else or another method to get to my father. I never would have met him or Peyton, whose insatiable greed demanded your legacy. Even if Father had raised me himself, my desperate desire to please him and his family would never have existed, and Rominic's charming manipulations would have had no effect on me. From the very beginning, the only reason I accepted his advances and tried to win his favor was because I longed for my father's approval.

I fell in love with Rominic along the way, but that was only due to the void you left by withholding that crucial information from me. It wasn't solely because I was a fool from birth, as you imply. That one piece of knowledge you held back is the very reason I find myself in this condition today—a strong-willed woman one moment, a mental and emotional mess the next. I blame myself greatly for my mistakes, but I also hold you accountable, Mother.

I blinked my eyes open, tears streaming down from the corners. My surroundings came into focus, and I belatedly registered that I was in someone's arms, carefully cradled in their warm embrace.

I smiled up at him, the very devil that had almost ruined my life. The devil who had picked me up, only to mercilessly smash me to the ground when I was at my highest, and now had forced his way back into my life again, bringing with him a torrent of emotions I had sworn never to remember.

That's right, Mother. Your daughter has made the very same mistake that you did—falling hopelessly, insanely in love with a man who already belonged to someone else. She allowed herself to become used and then cruelly abandoned, just as you did, and she even found herself pregnant and with children of her own. But unlike you, when he bulldozed his way back into her life, she fell right back into his arms, unable to resist his pull.

"Laverne, what did I tell you about drinking in moderation?" he asked scoldingly, the expression in his eyes betraying more anxiety and love than true annoyance. I could no longer be certain of his true feelings—does he genuinely love me, or am I simply being deceived once again? Or perhaps I am the one deceiving myself, desperately clinging to the notion that he cares for me.

'I don't know what to do with myself,' I thought pitifully. But does it even matter in the end? For no matter what, I will always find myself falling back into his arms. He will always be the first and only man I can envision rescuing me, even in my deepest dreams.

I reached upward and gently placed my hand upon his cheek, a genuine, soft smile spreading across my face. After all, this is just a dream, so it's permissible to speak the truth. "Beau, I love you," I confessed. As expected, he halted in his steps, his eyes flying wide open with shock. This was the exact reaction the real Rominic would have expressed if I ever dared to utter those words to him—that is if he truly loved me as he so adamantly claimed.

"I love you so much that the very thought of losing you again makes me feel as if I'll run utterly and completely mad," I confessed, my voice trembling with raw emotion. "I don't want to lose what we have now, but I'm so scared—so unbelievably terrified that this is all just another cruel act to get something from me, or that I'll soon wake up to find this has all just been a nasty dream."

At these words, a single tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, until they were pouring freely from his eyes. But I knew deep down that this was merely what I desperately wanted to see—after all, the Rominic in my dreams would weep so freely, while the real Rominic would never cry so easily.

"Will I wake up back in that horrible, destitute apartment, struggling to make ends meet and feed our children, all the while trying to convince myself that I truly hate you?" I continued, a shudder of pure, unadulterated fear running through my body as more tears streamed down my face. And yet, despite the large volume of tears, my voice remained steady and raw with the depth of my emotions.

"Would everything simply end with just this?" I pleaded, the terror of my own thoughts suffocating me. "I don't know, and I'm so terrified by the mere prospect that it's absolutely overwhelming. Tell me, Rominic—what am I supposed to do with these feelings I have for you? How am I ever supposed to contain this overflowing, all-consuming love I have for you?"

He resumed his steady pace, and I stared at him with an intense, unwavering gaze, as if he somehow held the answers to all of my questions and uncertainties. He didn't walk far before reaching his car, whose automatic doors obediently opened at his approach. Gently, he placed me in the front seat, then leaned down to press a deep, lingering kiss upon my forehead before stepping back. It almost felt as if I had briefly drifted off in the dream, but I knew it was simply because the setting had shifted from the front of the bar to the familiar confines of our shared bedroom.

There, tangled amidst the sheets, Rominic and I became one, our bodies merging together as the full, tumultuous force of my tsunami-like emotions clashed against the passionate, delirious ecstasy that enveloped me in endless, crashing waves. Perhaps it was the dreamlike nature of our surroundings, but the pleasure felt greater, more all-consuming, and passionate than any other time we had previously given into the desires of the flesh since first meeting. It was as if, in this dream realm, we were finally allowing our truest emotions to seep into and intertwine with one another.

It all felt so surreal, like some fantastical dream that I never wanted to forget.

No, I reminded myself—this is a dream. A mere fantasy, no matter how real it may feel.

Oh, dearest mother, what is your hopeless daughter now supposed to do? I don't believe I can bear to live without Rominic Verlice anymore.