My Brother Became a Vegetable To Save Me Novel by NANCY ROWSE

“Mr. Sutton, Mrs. Sutton… she’s… passed away!”

The news hit Elio like a bombshell.

His face went pale, unable to believe it. He asked the assistant to repeat the news, but the confirmation remained the same: I was dead.

Elio seemed stunned, murmuring to himself, “How is that possible? Aimee, are you playing a trick on me? Just a few days ago, you were upset with me. How… how did you pass away?”

Though Elio couldn’t see me, I could clearly see his expression and hear his voice.

Seeing the regret spread across Elio’s face brought a small sense of satisfaction to me.

Elio, frantic and desperate, questioned everyone around him about my whereabouts, but no one could provide any answers.

I watched Elio’s futile attempts with cold detachment, finding it absurd. He failed to cherish me when I was alive and now, in my absence, he was overwhelmed with regret.

Elio, with red–rimmed eyes, sat in my favorite room–the study–surrounded by bottles and cans he had emptied. Grabbing a bottle of liquor at random, he poured it down his throat.

“Aimee, please come back. I realize my mistakes now. I regret making you angry and not believing you. Please, come back.”

Elio’s eyes roamed over the room filled with my belongings, still struggling to believe that I was truly gone.

Intoxicated, he collapsed in my study, a shadow of his usual polished self.

For days, Elio remained in a daze within that room, only gradually coming to terms with my death. He began investing considerable resources into locating my final resting place.

My feelings for Elio had long since shifted from admiration to irritation, even hatred. It pained me to see Elio’s efforts, but I was powerless to stop him.

Eventually, Elio discovered my grave in a remote area far from the city, a two–hour drive away. Holding a bouquet of my© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

favorite sunflowers, he made his way to my tombstone, gently placing the flowers down.

He traced the engraved name on the headstone, confirming that it was indeed me.

Watching Elio’s insincere display made me feel nauseous, especially as he touched my gravestone.

With tear–filled eyes, Elio embraced the monument, sobbing in anguish.

“Aimee, I truly regret it. I’m sorry. I should have noticed your illness sooner. I’m sorry, I’m sorry… but now, it seems like no amount of words can change anything.”

“Aimee, I wish I had recognized my true feelings earlier. I’ve always loved you, but sadly, you can no longer hear me.”