My Birthday, My Downfall novel Chapter 32

I didn't spare it a glance.

But the car stopped beside me, and the rear window rolled down, revealing Paul's handsome, aristocratic face.

I merely glanced at him indifferently and kept walking.

"Grace."

Paul frowned slightly. "Where are you going?"

Dragging two large suitcases, I was already struggling to walk, much less in the mood for small talk.

So I ignored him and continued forward.

Suddenly, Paul opened the car door and got out.

"Do you want me to have my driver take you?"

"No, thanks."

I avoided his outstretched hand and kept walking.

Paul grabbed my wrist. "Grace, why are you so stubborn this time?"

"If you cried like before, maybe I'd soften up again."

I shook off his hand forcefully and looked at him calmly.

"Paul, I don't need it anymore."

I didn't need to cry, nor did I need his momentary softness.

Again and again, I had grown tired, utterly exhausted.

"Fine, whatever you want."

Paul let out a derisive laugh, but disbelief was written clearly in his eyes.

In the past, no matter how heartbroken I was, I always waited for him to come back, willingly and silently.

He had grown used to it.

Everyone around him said I would never leave him.

And he believed it wholeheartedly.

Dragging my suitcase, I was ready to leave.

Helen's gentle voice rang out.

"Paul, you're here."

She rushed over, clinging tightly to Paul's arm, her body leaning almost entirely against him.

"Are you feeling better from the allergy?"

Paul brushed aside the strands of hair on her forehead, carefully inspecting her.

"Much better." Helen tilted her face up, her smile radiant. "Paul, don't be mad at Grace."

She gave his arm a playful shake, her voice soft and sweet.

"It's really my fault for being so weak. If I weren't so frail, Dad wouldn't have asked me to switch rooms with Grace."

"Then she wouldn't have taken it out on me…"

"This isn't your fault. She's just petty and narrow-minded."

Paul shot me a glance, then deliberately pulled Helen into his arms.

"Let's go inside. Your face is just recovering—you shouldn't be out in the wind."

"Okay."

I watched as the two of them walked away, inseparable, like conjoined twins.

But my heart was as calm as a still lake, incapable of stirring even the slightest ripple.

After my mother's death anniversary, my father didn't come to take me back home.

Soon, it was Paul's birthday.

"Or is it you who's hungry?"

He pinched Helen's cheek teasingly.

"I'm starving! I just want to eat cake already," she replied, leaning into his arms.

As Helen nestled against him, Paul caught a faint but familiar scent.

He froze for a moment and asked in a low voice, "What perfume are you wearing?"

"I just grabbed something from the dressing room at home," Helen said, sounding surprised.

"Why, Paul? Does it smell bad?"

Paul shook his head.

"No, it's nice."

It smelled like the perfume Grace used to wear.

For a moment, he couldn't recall the name of the brand.

As everyone laughed and started a cake fight, Paul stepped out onto the balcony with a cigarette.

His phone remained silent, not a single reply.

He remembered Grace once telling him she would never miss any of his birthdays.

But she had broken her promise so soon.

Paul's gaze darkened, his lips curling into a faint, icy smirk.

"Grace, are you dead? Don't you know how to reply to a message?"

He hit send.

But the message failed to deliver. A glaring red exclamation mark appeared on the screen.

He had been blocked.