The Villianess story: A 100 ways to kill your husband Chapter 575: Shadow of the past

The live-action adaptation was quite impressive. Abrielle would have reveled in its brilliance had she not been living within its confines. The male protagonist exuded handsomeness, while the antagonist, Cedric, bore a disfiguring scar across his face.

Cedric harbored numerous grievances regarding the narrative and his character arc, yet he couldn't help but find it amusing how fixated he was on Callista.

Due to the mask he wore, many mistook him for a celebrity.

They strolled hand in hand through the night. The film's runtime exceeded Abrielle's expectations, and by this hour, Hazel's memorial service was nearing its conclusion.

"Why do I have a scar?" Cedric inquired of Abrielle, whose face was alight with a smile. "You sustained it during your inaugural war..." she responded.

He let out a sigh; the book had depicted events differently. After a brief walk, they reached their destination. Abrielle cherished the moment they were experiencing together.

It was an intimate occasion, just the two of them. The hall was already crowded, and they managed to enter unobtrusively, finding seats at the very back. Tricia, surprisingly, spotted them and offered a smile in their direction before turning her attention back to Hazel's grieving mother.

The memorial service was an emotionally charged affair. Abrielle sat towards the rear, absorbing the heartfelt tributes.

At the forefront, she could discern a familiar blonde head – her best friend Kimberly, attempting to console her tearful mother.

Cedric observed Abrielle with keen interest. He had already deduced that she had two siblings: her mother, Tricia, and a younger brother named Maxwell. Hazel, he understood, was the eldest child.

There was no father figure present. "And your father?" he whispered into Abrielle's ear. Her eyes welled up, and she lowered her gaze. "Dad passed away a few years ago, before I began writing..."

"Following his death, we encountered financial hardships, and fortunately, I discovered online publishing platforms. Thus, I commenced writing and met with success." She conveyed this succinctly. Cedric gave a nod.

Her hands were tightly clasped on her thighs. This was intended as a farewell, yet it felt profoundly difficult. She was unable to bear witness. Memories she believed were buried in this lifetime began to resurface as she listened to the tributes.

It felt as though the very walls were closing in on her.

Abrielle abruptly stood and fled the hall. Cedric exhaled and followed in pursuit, but she had vanished. He scoured the vicinity of the building, but she was nowhere to be found, not even on the bustling street.

His fists clenched; he heightened his senses, attempting to locate her. Her scent, carried on the wind, reached him, and he began to track it.

Cedric's pursuit of her scent led him to a nearby graveyard. It was shrouded in darkness, the trees bordering the road appeared foreboding, and within the gloom, he heard her voice. He hurried towards a tombstone.

Abrielle knelt on the damp grass, weeping before an epitaph adorned with flowers. His gaze fell upon the inscription.

Hazel S. Walter, 2003 - 2023. It was her tombstone. He was unsure how to offer solace in this moment of profound grief. All he could do was squat beside her and draw her into his embrace.

His comforting warmth caused her tears to flow more freely; the most heart-wrenching aspect of mortality was its refusal to pause time for anyone. She was grateful they were faring well, yet an undeniable ache persisted in her heart.

Her wish had been granted; she had seen her mother and family one last time. The resonant roar of a motorcycle engine captured Abrielle's attention. Glancing over Cedric's shoulder, she noticed someone approaching the graveyard.

The presence of another visitor at this late hour struck her as peculiar. "I'm alright," she stated, extricating herself from his embrace and dabbing her eyes. Abrielle cast one final look at the tombstone before turning to depart, Cedric following close behind.

As she reached the road's entrance, she collided with the motorcyclist. Her heart faltered as she recognized him. "Lucian," she whispered, watching the young man she once cherished pass by.

He hadn't changed significantly. Abrielle had once been struck by the uncanny resemblance between her former crush and Cedric's brother. She mused whether he might be a reincarnation – an idea that didn't seem entirely far-fetched.

Cedric's gaze remained fixed on Lucian. Their eyes met, but he was certain those were not his brother's eyes. Lucian proceeded towards Hazel's grave.

Abrielle stood a short distance away, feigning a visit to a different plot. He placed the flowers down, his eyes lingering on the tombstone before he released a trembling sigh.

"It's already been a year. It's ironic how you never dared to confess." His voice grew strained.

"Perhaps I should have spoken first. You assumed I was oblivious, but your feelings were evident in your eyes." His words sent a jolt through her heart. Lucian had known about her infatuation.

Abrielle swallowed hard, deciding to depart. There was no point in dwelling on this now. She did not hear the final sentence that reached Cedric's ears clearly. "We were both fools in love, too terrified to confess. Hazel Walters, I wonder how you would feel knowing I loved you too, or that I knew you were the Midnight Queen..."

Abrielle was already striding away, memories of all her attempts to confess flooding her mind. She felt overwhelmed with embarrassment.