Chapter 366

Wade stopped, turning to look at me with surprise. I realized how forward I'd been and quickly backtracked. "I didn't mean to overstep; I just thought—"

"That's fine," Wade interrupted. He murmured almost to himself, "She was so lively before. Loved meeting new people. If you visit her, she'll be happy, I'm sure."

His words tugged at my heart. "Come with me," he said, leading the way.

His steps seemed heavy, as if grief weighed him down. We arrived at a rehabilitation room resembling a VIP suite—spacious and comfortable, clearly intended for someone well-off.

At the door, Wade paused, his eyes holding unspoken emotion. I thought he might be having second thoughts. "If it's inconvenient, we can come back another time," I offered.

"You really do look like her," Wade said, "but she's thinner now." I'd almost forgotten—there was a girl who looked strikingly like me.

I smiled lightly. "True beauty doesn't fade easily."

Wade chuckled softly and opened the door. A caregiver gently massaged the girl lying in the bed. She looked up and stood at our entrance.

"Take a break. I'll call you back later," Wade said respectfully.

The caregiver nodded and left quietly, though not without giving me a curious glance. She must have noticed the resemblance, too.

"Does the caregiver look after her when you're not here?" I asked, breaking the heavy silence. Wade seemed even more burdened since we entered.

"Yes. I still have to work, so I can't always be here," he replied, setting fruit on a small table before sitting beside the bed. I followed, and as he sat, I finally saw the girl clearly.

Her skin was pale, almost translucent, her hair fanned out on the pillow. Her eyes were nearly closed, her lips slightly parted. She didn't appear comatose—simply sleeping. And she was beautiful, like a real-life Sleeping Beauty.

The most striking feature was a tiny, teardrop-shaped mole at the corner of her eye, making her delicate beauty even more heartbreaking.

"She was brilliant," Wade began softly, his gaze fixed on her. "Skipped grades, didn't even take the college entrance exam—KRA recruited her early. By twenty-six, she was already our advisor…"

His words were laced with pain, his regret palpable. "If that accident hadn't happened, she'd probably be the youngest professor by now," he added, his voice thick with sorrow.

"What happened? Was it really an accident?" I asked, my curiosity escaping before I could restrain it.

Wade didn't answer immediately. He stared at her, silent for a long moment, before finally saying, "It was my fault."

The guilt in his voice was suffocating. "Wade," I said gently, "your advisor sacrificed herself to save you. Do you think she'd want you to spend your life drowning in guilt?"

He looked up, but I kept my eyes on the girl. "She protected you because she wanted you to live. If you get stuck in the guilt, her sacrifice loses its meaning."

I turned to him, speaking softly, "Don't let it eat away at you. It can't change what happened. She had big dreams, and if she can't achieve them now, maybe it's on you to carry them forward. As long as you're moving toward her dreams, she'll always be a part of your life."

I didn't know where those words came from, but they flowed freely. Wade's eyes widened, startled, as if something clicked within him.

"Miss," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

I looked at him. His gaze was intense, filled with surprise, perhaps disbelief. I furrowed my brow. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

Wade swallowed hard. "No. It's just… when you were talking, you looked even more like her."

My heart skipped a beat. I turned back to the girl in the bed.