"Wesley, come home with me!" she said.
Her words made me so warm.
But now, eight years had passed.
Just when I thought I could feel the warmth again, she ruthlessly pushed me away.
When I looked at her again, I could only see Kayla's disdainful and cold eyes.
She said, "It seems that you haven't recovered from your illness yet. You're still so disgusting!"
I was stunned.
How could I forget that again?
She was no longer the Kayla who trusted me unconditionally.
She hated me because I killed her father, her only relative in this world, Ryan Adams.
A year ago, Ryan was in a car accident.
And Kayla's fiancé Max told her, "Wesley hired someone to kidnap him in order to get your attention, but Ryan didn't know the truth and ran a red light to save him, which led to the car accident."
That day, I shuttled my broken legs and kept explaining at her feet. "It's not me. I didn't do that."
But she didn't listen to my explanation but slapped me in the face.
"Wesley, I can't believe you can do such a childish thing. Why didn't they kill you but only break your legs! Why did you have to sacrifice my father's life because of your ignorance? You are the one who deserves to die. Go to hell!"