Chapter 860: “Hannah, I’m sorry.”

Finally, Miguel left. Oscar and Hannah remained alone in the ward, a silence hanging between them. Hannah expressed a desire to talk, preventing Oscar from leaving, yet she remained silent. Oscar simply stared at her.

The room was hushed. Eventually, Oscar cautiously approached, his gaze falling on her face, where lingering disgust, despite her attempts to mask it, was evident. He understood the difficulty she must have faced in deciding to speak with him, to allow his nearness. Yet, he feigned indifference, sitting beside her bed, close but silent.

Looking at her pale face, he broke the silence, his voice heavy yet gentle. "So, you wanted to leave me at any cost?"

He had once considered Hannah reasonable, someone who valued life too highly to resort to extremes. He had overestimated his understanding of her, profoundly misjudging the depth of her resentment.

Hannah met his gaze, seeing sadness and a hint of sarcasm in his peaceful expression.

"I think two years is short," Oscar said lightly.

He had once believed there was no turning back, yet he had pursued his desires relentlessly. He'd believed two years were insufficient, that he could make amends. Now, tears welling, he smiled ruefully. "It turned out that two years have ruined everything."

Those two years had inflicted lifelong pain and sorrow. Hannah remained distant, seemingly impervious to his sadness. She looked at him—the man she had once loved fiercely, her closest confidante—as if he were a stranger.

"Hannah, I'm sorry."

It no longer mattered; he had already broken her heart and didn't deserve forgiveness. Yet, he was at a loss for words. What more could Hannah possibly want to hear?

Perhaps she needed to hear words he'd never thought he'd utter, words born from witnessing so much suffering. Finally, he said, "I'll let you go."

"You can go anywhere you wish. Be with whomever you want. I won't appear before you again if you don't want to see me. I just want you to be alive," he thought.

Hannah simply stared. She had striven so hard for escape, for freedom; yet, now that it was hers, she hesitated.

"I won't leave you," she said.

Oscar stared, incredulous. He had anticipated silence, anger—anything but this. On the way to the hospital, he'd resigned himself to losing her forever.

"I've been unreasonable," Hannah said calmly, with the wisdom of hard-won experience. In her view, growth and strength stemmed from life's trials. Having relived her life, she viewed evil as a mortal enemy, and her survival of the terrible accident had rendered her fearless. Death held no power over her.

"I won't leave anymore," she repeated.

"Hannah…" Oscar was speechless, his heart pounding. He felt her hand in his, saw the bruises, yet her grip was firm, resolute.

His fingers trembled at her touch, his body shaking. He'd expected her departure, her permanent absence. Instead, she offered her hand, her promise to stay. Happy tears fell onto their clasped hands. Oscar was overjoyed, Hannah serenely calm. He would believe it, regardless of whether it was a deception or a dream.

Justine and Susan waited anxiously at the door, watching Manuel in the ICU. Silence reigned, any sound a potential disruption. Their fervent hope was for Manuel, unconscious for hours, to awaken.

Twenty-four hours had passed. Doctors came and went, offering no encouraging news. Susan had even considered accepting a persistent vegetative state for Manuel, like her father’s, but his death was unbearable.

"Justine," a voice broke the stillness.

Startled, Justine and Susan turned to see Theodore, who, though hesitant to intrude, couldn't bear to watch them endure their vigil without food or rest. Their well-being mattered, too.

"Grab some sleep. I'll be here for Manuel," he offered.

Justine refused, unwilling to leave Manuel's side while he remained in a coma. Susan felt the same, believing her own demise would follow if she couldn't see him.

"I understand your feelings. Manuel is my friend, and I'm concerned as well. But you must rest. I've arranged rooms for you. Eat something, take a nap. You can come back later."

"Theodore…"

"Justine, please! I've spoken to the doctor. Manuel's awakening won't happen in a day or two; it will take time. You can wait without food or drink for twenty-four hours, but what about a month?" Theodore insisted.

Justine bit her lip, torn between her desire to stay and her inability to argue.

"Do you think Manuel wants to see the two women he loves most ruining their health for him?" Theodore reasoned gently.

Tears welled in Justine's eyes. Manuel had always avoided causing trouble, dedicating himself to helping those he deemed worthy, never seeking anything in return—just like his selfless act in saving Hannah. She felt no resentment toward Hannah, only profound sorrow for Manuel's sacrifice.