I'm Giving Up On You Novel by Ajawiss _ Novel




I'm Giving Up On You Chapter 01

After their daughter, Gracie, passed away, Adelaide Nayler abandoned every habit Theodore Barrelet had ever loathed. She stopped the hourly messages that she sent to check on his whereabouts; even when he stayed out all night, she no longer met him with hysterical confrontations.
When she took a hard fall from a two-meter platform lift during a ballet rehearsal, the doctor asked if they should notify her family. Adelaide simply shook her head. "I'm an orphan," she said calmly. "I have no family."
However, the head nurse in the ER recognized her. "Aren't you Mrs. Barrelet? Mr. Barrelet just brought someone in. They're up in the VIP ward. Should I go get him for you?"
Only then did she remember that this private hospital was owned by the Barrelet Group.
She was about to wave it off as unnecessary, yet half an hour later, Theodore stood in the doorway looking sharp in a dark gray suit.
Theodore carried an air of cold command that only came with years of authority. A flicker of impatience crossed his face as he looked at her. "You're hurt. Why didn't you call me?"
Adelaide looked away, her eyes fixed on the white hospital sheets. "It's just a torn tendon," she said flatly. "I'm not going to die."
Her indifference sparked a sudden, inexplicable flash of anger in Theodore's chest.
He remembered a time when Adelaide valued her legs more than life itself. Back then, a simple blister from practice was enough to make her run to him, eyes welling with tears as she begged for comfort. Now, with a ruptured tendon that could end her career, she hadn't even complained a word.
Theodore was ready to snap at her, but the voices of young nurses drifting in from the hallway stopped him. "Mr. Barrelet is absolutely devoted to Ms. Maarafie. She only nicked her finger with a craft knife, yet he called the director, cleared the entire ER corridor, and wouldn't let her go for a second—as if he were afraid a single drop of her blood might hit the floor."
Theodore's breath hitched. He instinctively glanced at Adelaide, bracing himself for the inevitable explosion of jealousy and rage.
But she didn't even blink. She simply leaned back against her pillow, looking as if she were listening to someone else's story.
The agitation in Theodore's chest sharpened, and he offered a stiff explanation. "Don't listen to that gossip. Lucille is performing at the art exhibition—her hands are her livelihood. I only brought her here to get her wound dressed because I just happened to pass by."
Adelaide gave a noncommittal hum and said nothing more.
Her reaction was so calm it frustrated Theodore, his voice rising. "What's with the sarcasm?"
"I'm not thinking about anything," Adelaide replied. Her tone was flat, underpinned by a cold, detached rationality. "Lucille is the adopted sister you sponsored and raised. You've always been close, so it's only natural that you'd be worried about her."
Theodore used to snap at her, his face dark with cold impatience. "Lucille's health is poor, and I've looked out for her since she was a child. If I don't take care of her, who will? For God's sake, stop being so petty."
Now, Adelaide had finally become the poised, selfless woman he had always demanded: no more fighting, no more making a scene—just quiet and sensible. Yet Theodore's chest felt heavy, as if a weight were pressing the air from his lungs.
This wasn't right. This wasn't the Adelaide he knew.
Just then, Lucille Maarafie's assistant burst through the door in a panic. "Mr. Barrelet, Cille says she's dizzy and nauseous. It might be tetanus! Please, you have to come!"
Theodore's simmering frustration finally found a target. "If she's dizzy, she needs a doctor," he snapped. "Am I a physician? Does my presence cure nausea?"
The assistant flinched and hurried away. Theodore took a steadying breath before turning back to Adelaide, his tone softened. "Addie, are you still holding Gracie's death against me? Lucille was genuinely careless that day, and I've already canceled her art exhibition as punishment."
He moved closer, sitting on the edge of the bed as he reached out to take Adelaide's cold hand in his.
"We're still young. We'll have other children," Theodore said, his voice becoming gentle. "Tell you what—I'll clear my schedule for the week and stay here with you while you recover, alright?"
But Adelaide silently withdrew her hand, tucking it beneath the covers.
Theodore's brows furrowed instantly, his irritation surfacing, but a muffled thud from the hallway cut him off.
Lucille, looking frail in her hospital gown, had collapsed just outside the door to Adelaide's ward.
Theodore rushed to her side almost by instinct to help her up. "What are you doing? I told you to stay in bed."
"I heard that Addie was hurt," Lucille whimpered, her eyes welling with tears. "I couldn't just sit there. I had to come see her."
She shrank into Theodore's chest, acting as though she were terrified of Adelaide. "Addie, please don't be angry with me," she sobbed. "I never meant to lose Gracie..."
In the past, Adelaide would have collapsed in tears. She would have lunged at Theodore, demanding to know why he was protecting a murderer.
But now, she simply closed her eyes in exhaustion, refusing to spare even a glance for the two.
She was paper-pale and gaunt, her frame so thin she looked as if a gust of wind might knock her over. There was something about her that felt heartbreakingly fragile, as though she could shatter at any moment.
A sharp, sudden pang of guilt stabbed at Theodore's heart. He lowered his voice to Lucille in his arms. "I'm taking you back to your room. The air in here is stifling."
He lifted her and strode away. He didn't return for the rest of the night.
Instead, a call came through from the American Ballet Theatre. "Ms. Nayler, have you reached a decision regarding the 'The Forgotten Muses' dance restoration project? This is a high-level cultural preservation initiative. Once you join the team, you'll be stationed at a remote research site for at least five years—completely off the grid, with no outside contact. That includes your husband."
"I've made up my mind," Adelaide said, her voice unnervingly steady. "Don't worry. I've already had the divorce papers drafted. Once the cooling-off period ends next week, I'll be single. A life of seclusion is exactly what I've been wishing for."

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