Lance burst into laughter at Yvan's over-the-top reaction. "Hey, calm down, buddy. You just got stable. Don't go coughing up blood again, 'cause I can't patch you up this time."
Yvan didn't respond, but his face was a storm cloud of gloom.
Lance, enjoying the moment perhaps a little too much, prodded him, "Why so glum? Matilda's made it big, and everyone's loving her. You should be happy."
After a long silence, Yvan finally spoke, "I don't want others to see how amazing she is."
"Wow, possessive much?" Lance quipped. "You two were at each other's throats, and now you can't let go. Do you guys have to be like this? Can't one of you just give in and apologize?"
Yvan glanced at Lance. "It's not that simple." He wished it were, but Matilda didn't want his apologies.
She wanted him to surrender.
Lance studied Yvan's stony profile. That face could drive countless women wild. Lance had seen it firsthand on Kangaroo Island, where hospital nurses would line up to check on Yvan, all voluntarily.
So, in theory, Yvan shouldn't be short of admirers or love.
So why was he so fixated on Matilda?
Lance couldn't quite figure it out.
Later, he saw Yvan pick up his phone, only to put it back down, torn between wanting to look and refusing to do so, his indecision as palpable as his torment.
That's when Lance understood: some deep loves only end in tragedy.
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