Chapter 395

“No, no way. We were home alone, and even the pets don't bother him anymore,” Lindey said, then fell silent.

I raised an eyebrow, sensing something was amiss. Before I could inquire, Lindey grasped my hand as if clinging to a lifeline. “Wait… after I massaged him and he settled on the couch, my phone rang. I answered, and… I think I heard him on a call, too.”

My stomach plummeted. Could that phone call have triggered this?

“Where’s his phone?” I asked, maintaining my composure.

Lindey patted her pockets and frowned. “Ugh, I didn’t bring it. It’s probably at home.”

Perfect. No way to retrieve it now, but something about that call felt wrong. What if it triggered this?

Before I could overthink, Wayne and Jace returned, their expressions grave. Whatever Wayne had told Jace while I was with Lindey must have been serious. Their unspoken knowledge tightened my chest.

I wanted to ask them what they’d learned, but Lindey remained glued to my side, her grip unwavering.

After what felt like an eternity, the emergency room doors opened, and an exhausted doctor emerged.

“Doctor, how’s my dad?” Wayne and Jace blurted simultaneously.

The doctor sighed. “The bleeding’s stopped, but the cancer has spread to his liver. His condition is critical.”

A crushing weight descended. The room fell silent; I could hear my own pulse.

The doctor offered weak optimism: “Just keep his spirits up. A positive attitude may prolong his time.”

That was supposed to be comforting? It wasn't. Matthew's life was on a ticking clock.

“Thanks, Doctor,” Jace said, his politeness masking their inner turmoil.

Matthew was transferred to the ICU, where only one visitor was permitted.

I assumed it wouldn't be me, but Jace and Lindey insisted—vehemently.

“Rea, when they brought Matthew in, he was calling your name,” Lindey said, her voice cracking.

That shattered me. I donned the isolation gown and entered the ICU.

Matthew lay there, hooked up to machines, an oxygen mask covering his face. His fragility brought tears to my eyes.

“His anesthetic is still wearing off, but keep him awake. Talk to him. Don’t let him sleep,” a nurse instructed softly.

I sat beside his bed and gently took his hand. “Matthew, it’s me—Rea.”

His eyelids flickered before slowly opening, his gaze finding mine.

“Re… Rea…” he whispered, his voice faint, yet he smiled. The sight of his struggle broke my heart. I squeezed his hand. “Don’t talk, okay? Just rest. I’m right here.”

He weakly shook his head and tried to lift his other hand toward the oxygen mask, as if to remove it.

I stopped him. “No, you can’t do that. Don’t move.”

The monitor erupted in frantic beeping, plunging me into panic. “Nurse! Nurse!”

The nurse rushed over, gently chiding Matthew. “You just stopped the bleeding! You can’t get agitated; it’ll start again.”

She then addressed me seriously. “Please, don’t upset him.”

I hadn’t done anything to upset him! Matthew simply wanted to talk.

“He wants to remove the mask to talk to me,” I explained. “Is that alright?”

Matthew gave a tiny nod, confirming my statement.

The nurse sighed, then conceded. “Fine, two minutes. Be quick.”

She carefully removed the mask, and Matthew gasped for air, his voice raspy as he struggled to speak. “Rea… I… I might not… make it. There’s something… I need to tell…