All Chapters of Learning to Let Go of What Hurts: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

When I arrived at the hospital, my clothes were torn, and my body was covered in wounds. The doctor sighed when he saw me. He said that if I had come just a few hours earlier, my arm might have been saved. I stared numbly at the ceiling as I listened to the doctor's verdict. My right arm had suffered comminuted fractures. I would likely never paint again.Tears slipped down from my eyes. I felt despaired. Why couldn't I learn to let go?What was Yves Chapman doing right now?He'd probably broken open a new bottle of wine last night to celebrate the absence of my harassment. Maybe he played the piano with Clarisse Tatcher, his junior, and enjoyed their time alone.I laughed self-deprecatingly. I wasn't a hindrance between them anymore.Just then, my phone rang. It was Yves.I closed my eyes slowly. It was time I learned my lesson.Yves stormed into my room, not a wrinkle seen on his clothes, and frowned down at me. His eyes were cold, as if he was just looking at some peasant

I resented Yves, but I knew he had no obligation to save me. I had no right to blame him.Even so, I couldn't help myself. He was my boyfriend; we'd talked about marriage. He could've given me just a few seconds of his time and let me speak instead of hanging up right after saying he was busy. Or, he could've called me again when I did not return home the entire night and realized I was hurt.I had never stayed out all night before. He knew where I was. I'd told him where I was going. I really did.The scattered papers across the floor only emphasized my foolishness. My stubbornness was just a joke.When I was a child, I insisted on taking up painting. No one took me seriously, so I was all alone in my endeavors. I eventually made a name for myself. But the universe played a cruel joke on me. Everything I'd ever achieved was temporary, it turned out. It was time to give it all back.I threw my art supplies into the trash can and stuffed the remainder of the papers into a folde

In the end, I still went home with Yves.He said that he could fix my arm.He brought me to many famous doctors, but they all just shook their heads.He stayed by my side all the time, constantly talking about wedding preparations.Slowly, I lost all expectations of him.One day, Clarisse came to me wearing a tailored wedding dress. It was one of the styles that Yves had shown me a few days ago.She had some nice makeup on and red-varnished nails, making her look lively. She gave me an arrogant once-over. "Does this dress look nice, Summer?"She led me downstairs calmly. The way she made her way around the house made her seem like the owner, while I was just a lowly guest.The housekeeper, Karen Smith, made us some tea. "Ms. Tatcher, I'm glad that you and Mr. Chapman are getting married. Your dress looks amazing. I know Mr. Chapman picked it out himself. He spent a lot of time on it.""Thank you, Karen." Clarisse sent her away with a smile.Then, she put down her cup and lean

Yves drew closer to me. I stared at him in fear, trembling.He pulled me into his embrace, his voice panicked. "What happened? Tell me what happened, Summer."I screamed and passed out.When I came to again, the house was a mess. Raymond was sitting at the side of my bed, sporting some bruises."I'd just left for a while. How did you get into this situation? What happened to the ferocity you used to use against me?" he asked.I laughed bitterly. "I envy the past me too, Raymond. I used to be so bold and fearless. But people change. I'm afraid of death. I'm just a normal person."He pulled me into a hug and comforted me softly, "Don't worry, I've already sent someone to look into this. I won't let the person who hurt you stay unpunished."From him, I felt a sense of calm and peace that I'd never felt before.I felt more at ease than ever when I was by his side.Without anyone to disturb us, we seemed like a real couple.However, happiness was always fleeting. Two days later, Y

Extra: Yves ChapmanMy name was Yves Chapman.I played a romantic piano piece at a soiree during my third year of college. After the event, a young woman asked me for my number.She was passionate and fiery, with a bold and unwavering gaze. Her eyes were bright when she looked at me.I was captivated, basking in her unreserved love. She allowed me to know what true love was.I envied her for her freedom and determination. She seemed to have an endless drive for the things she liked.But I was despicable.Afraid that she would one day look away from me, I kept her at arm's length. After all, people did not cherish what came too easily into possession. I would ignore her purposefully and then turn around and treat her kindly once in a while.I wasn't the perfect man she thought I was. I was despicable.Often, in the middle of the night, my anxieties would act up. I would worry that she would leave me because of how I acted, yet her persistence surprised me.Slowly, I became g