After Reading My Boyfriend’s Mind, I Dumped Him for Good Chapter 14
“Before he turned three, he was a cheerful, outgoing child.”
Mrs. Doyle’s voice softened.
“Everything changed after his younger brother was born.”
I realized just how little I actually knew about Atticus.
I barely knew anything about him at all.
He had a younger brother-a child who was his complete opposite.
“His brother was frail and often sick. He used that to steal all the attention for himself.”
Her expression darkened.
“And he treated Atticus like an enemy who would take everything from him.”
Anything Atticus liked, his brother would take. Again and again.
Just to prove that he was the only beloved child in the family.
Mrs. Doyle’s hair had already begun to gray at the temples.
Now her eyes welled up.
“I was away for half a year, helping my daughter-in-law after she had her baby.”
“When I came back…” Her voice trembled. “Atticus had stopped talking.”
“He never told anyone what he liked anymore.”
“Because everything he showed an interest in would get taken away.”
She lowered her head.
“I’m only a housekeeper. I tried standing up for him and got half a month’s pay deducted.”
A bitter smile appeared on her face.
“When he smashed his piggy bank and handed me the money… my heart just shattered. He was just a child.”
My throat tightened.
“By the time he was six and about to start school, the adults in the family finally realized something was
wrong.”
“They tried everything to get him to talk again. But he refused. No matter what.”
“They forced his mouth open until it bled. He still wouldn’t say a word.”
I took a deep breath and looked back toward the hospital bed.
Atticus lay there quietly.
He was so tall. Yet somehow he had curled himself into a small ball beneath the blanket.
My jacket, the one I’d draped over him earlier, was clutched tightly in his arms.
“When he was twelve, the family hired a tutor for both brothers.”
“One day, the tutor asked them if there was anything they liked.”
Mrs. Doyle paused. “Atticus said he liked cats. His brother said he liked dogs.”
“The next day, the tutor brought a cat and a dog.”
My chest tightened. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the rest.
“The tutor had barely left when the dog killed Atticus’s cat.”
“Atticus shoved his brother to the ground, trying to save the kitten.”
“His father nearly beat him half to death for it.”
Mrs. Doyle’s voice shook with anger.
“He wasn’t just physically sick-he was sick in the head, too.”
“But everyone blamed him. They said he shouldn’t have pushed his younger brother.”
“That night, he was trembling. He told me he’d never like cats again. He’d never like anything. Ever again.”
A photograph was placed gently into my hand.
The moment I saw it, tears spilled down my face.
It was a picture from my birthday. I’d made Atticus take it with me.
He’d been drunk. His eyes had sparkled as he leaned against me.
The front and back of the photograph were covered with tiny handwritten words.
Every empty space not occupied by my face was filled.
Line after line. Over and over. I like you.
The words he could never bring himself to say aloud.
Mrs. Doyle looked at me quietly.
“I tried to get him to see a therapist.”
“He always said no. Said things were fine the way they were.”
A faint smile touched her face.
“But a few days ago, he suddenly called me. He told me he was willing to go.”
She looked toward the sleeping boy on the bed.
“Dear, I didn’t tell you all this to make you cry. If he wakes up and sees those tears, it’ll break his heart.”
She gently patted my shoulder. “I only wanted you to know that he has suffered a lot.”
“If you still have feelings for him… please, stay by his side.”
Her voice grew softer.
“Because now… He only has you.”
After she left, I gently tried to tug my jacket free.
On instinct, his grip tightened. Even in sleep, his brow furrowed.
I couldn’t help smiling through my tears.
Then I quietly climbed onto the hospital bed and curled up beside him.
The mattress dipped beneath my weight.
Atticus stirred. His eyes opened slightly. Still clouded with sleep.
The moment he recognized me, his heartbeat sped up.
I felt it beneath my cheek.
Then, probably assuming he was still dreaming, he nuzzled against me with unmistakable affection and pulled me even closer.
Listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, I wrapped my arms around his waist.
And whispered into his chest, “When you wake up… let’s get back together.”
