Hamish was rushed into the emergency room and it took nearly two hours before he was taken out. He was covered in various tubes, had an oxygen mask over his nose, and a clip on his finger to measure blood oxygen levels. Really, although Tobias had always known that Hamish’s health was not good, he hadn’t expected his condition to be so severe, with even his heart being affected.
The attending doctor came out holding a stack of documents, asking for a signature from the family.
“The family isn’t here, I’m his assistant, can I sign on his behalf?”
The doctor adjusted his fogged glasses and said, “His condition is so severe, and no family members are here?”
Tobias didn’t know how to explain Hamish’s family situation and could only awkwardly smile. The doctor’s expression turned somewhat grave, which made Tobias uneasy.
“Can I take a look at the case?”
“You can. I will give you a detailed explanation of his condition first, and when he wakes up, we can have him sign and give his fingerprint.”
The doctor pulled up a computer, entering the patient’s information while CT images filled the screen. The doctor scrolled through the images of the lungs, then picked out a sheet from the stack in front of him and handed it to Tobias.
Tobias took it, his breath catching as he looked at the large words on the case file.
“Doctor, could this be a misdiagnosis?”
The doctor shook his head, his face also showing seriousness, “If you don’t believe it, you can wait until he wakes up for a re-examination. Your boss knows his own condition better than anyone. Don’t be too disheartened. Medical science has made significant progress in cancer research two years ago. Although it cannot guarantee complete recovery, as long as he undergoes chemotherapy patiently, receives treatment in the hospital, maintains a positive mood, and undergoes regular check-ups, he can still live for another eight to ten years.”
“And if he doesn’t undergo treatment, how long would he live?” Tobias shivered as he asked.
The doctor shook his head, “The last person who didn’t undergo treatment didn’t make it past three years.”
Tobias clutched the case file, staring at the few large words on it.
— Suspected advanced lung cancer.
In fact, Tobias knew how long someone could live with cancer. Elisa had taken her medication on time for a while, but still couldn’t make it past three years.
How could Hamish have lung cancer?
For these past few years, Tobias had been worried about his health, reminding him to eat by ordering takeout for him every day. He had even considered that he might get “stomach cancer,” but had completely forgotten that he might get other illnesses, such as lung cancer.
Hamish getting lung cancer, upon reflection, wasn’t surprising. After Elisa’s death, he drank and smoked, and the ashtray was never empty.
The doctor suddenly received a call from another patient.
“I have a patient coming in urgently. Why don’t you go to the ward to look after your boss and call me when he wakes up?”
Tobias nodded stiffly, took the case file, and went to the ward. When he came to his senses, a chill ran down his spine. He stood by the bed, looking at Hamish’s emaciated, pale face, and could only think of one thing.
Heaven’s vengeance is slow but sure. No one can escape the consequences of their actions. It’s not that there’s no retribution, it’s just that the time hasn’t come.
He had thought that Elisa’s “live until old age” was already distressing enough, but he hadn’t expected something even more agonizing to come next.
The person he had been longing for had returned, but he had contracted lung cancer.
Even if it could be treated, at most it would be ten years. Hamish was 33, so in ten years, he would be 43, inevitably unable to grow old with Elisa.
At the age of thirty, for a man, it’s a prime time. No longer the greenness of his twenties, not yet fully immersed in the worldliness of his forties. A man in his thirties is a unique sight, but this had become the biggest obstacle for Hamish, a hurdle he might not be able to cross.
Tobias felt a pang of sorrow and regret. How could Hamish have contracted this illness?
Sitting in a chair, Tobias took out his phone but didn’t know what to look at. He just stared blankly at the date on his phone, then looked up at the IV bag hanging over his head.
Old Burns had died a year ago, dividing his main assets in half, giving half to Finn and half to Hamish.
These brothers had fought bitterly for years. Hamish had an iron-fisted approachand had somehow managed to wrestle 40% of the shares from various shareholders. But… if these people found out that Hamish had lung cancer, the situation…
Also…
Tobias thought about the doctor’s question about “the patient’s family.”
If something were to happen to Hamish, who would come to sign? Those people would be glad to see him gone, wouldn’t they?
Tobias suddenly felt oppressed. He stepped outside for some fresh air, but forgot that the entire floor was full of critical patients, and the stifling atmosphere felt like a dark cloud hanging over his head. Cries and curses occasionally emanated from one of the rooms. In a hospital, life and death are the norm. Tobias sat at the stairwell for a long time.
He had cigarettes in his bag, but thinking about Hamish’s medical record, he crumpled the cigarettes and threw them in the trash.
After only five minutes outside, Tobias returned. He finished his work handover and ordered some takeout for lunch. Just as he finished eating, Hamish woke up.
As soon as he woke, he coughed. He was covered with a thick hospital blanket, and the air conditioning was on in the room, but he felt no warmth, only a chilling cold deep within.
With each cough, his chest tightened, his throat felt itchy and painful, and a salty, bitter taste filled his mouth.
Tobias quickly gave Hamish the medicine the doctor had prescribed and made him drink more water. Gradually, the intense coughing subsided.
Hamish lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. After a while, he gathered strength and, ignoring the IV still in his arm, tried to get up.
Tobias quickly pressed his shoulder to stop him. “Mr. Burns, what are you trying to do?”
“I want to leave the hospital. I need to find Elisa.”
Tobias felt a lump in his throat. “You can’t leave right now… the medication hasn’t finished.”
Hamish looked at the remaining half of the medication, and with a swift motion, he pulled out the IV tube before Tobias could react.
“I won’t die if I don’t take it. I want to leave now.”
The irony of the phrase “won’t die” coming from his mouth was not lost on Tobias. He looked at Hamish, his eyes red, and said, “You will die, Mr. Burns. You will die.”
Hamish’s body tensed, the pain in his chest still lingering. He pressed on it, looking at Tobias with a deeply troubled and anxious expression.
He felt a sense of unease rise within him. What did Tobias mean by “you will die”? For three years, Tobias had been reminding him to take care of his health, warning him that he would die if he didn’t. He had never taken it seriously because he already felt like he was living worse than dead and wished he could die sooner.
But now, hearing Tobias say this, he froze. A chill ran down his spine in an instant.
“What does this mean?” Tobias avoided Hamish’s questioning tone, his eyes evasive. After a while, he released Hamish and opened a drawer to retrieve the medical record, carefully placing it on the bed.
Hamish had seen many cases like this, mostly Elisa’s, few of his own. He repeatedly examined the medical record, his body feeling numb, his chest constricted as if by steel wire.
As he processed the information from the medical record, water spilled onto it. Hamish wiped it and then began to gasp for air, a cough he had suppressed now rising, blood spilling from his mouth. He stared blankly at the sticky blood on his palm, realizing he had lung cancer. He wouldn’t live long.
With a salty taste in his mouth and a sharp pain in his chest, facing disbelief and impending collapse, Hamish’s body automatically triggered protective functions, like a snail retreating into its shell, unaware of the outside world, feeling only the intense pain in his chest, or more precisely, in his lungs.
Tobias rang the bell in distress, wiping the blood from Hamish’s mouth and hands with a wet tissue. The blue bedding was stained with blood, turning purple-black when it dried.
Hamish breathed rapidly, looking pitifully ill. Soon, medical staff rushed in. Hamish closed his eyes in agony, leaning back on the bed, still clutching his chest, which felt inflated and stabbed, growing increasingly painful, contorting his face.
This was what having cancer felt like. He seemed to have experienced all of Elisa’s pain. He remembered her words from a few hours ago when she left.
“Hamish, you want me to accept your apology, unless you suffer like I did, perhaps even die. Do you dare?”
If this had been two days ago, unaware of Elisa’s return, he might have been willing to die, but now he dared not.
He didn’t dare to die.
After Elisa’s return, he didn’t want to die. Truly, he didn’t want to die.
Fate does not comply with everyone’s wishes. Mistakes cannot always be rectified, people cannot be reborn, shattered mirrors cannot be made whole again. Not everyone gets the chance for “thrill in torment, chase to the crematorium.”
Hamish clenched his teeth and coughed again, staining his teeth red. The proud and arrogant demeanor he usually wore was gone. His handsome face was now marked with the pain of regret. His eyes stung, blood was stopped, but tears could not be contained, flowing more violently, wetting his temples and the pillow beneath, the pain tormenting him.
He shifted his gaze from the ceiling to the window outside, the misty weather resembling smoke. In that moment, he vividly recalled the years he and Elisa had spent together.
Elisa disliked the smell of smoke, detested smoking, yet he always enjoyed smoking in her presence.
During their four years of marriage, Elisa rarely got angry, let alone with him. But once, seeing the ashtray full of cigarette butts on his desk, she sternly forbade him from smoking again.
It was one of the few times she had been angry with him.
Hamish detested being told what to do. His parents had never interfered with him. Why should Elisa dictate to him?
He had been furious, grabbed the ashtray at hand, and hurled it at Elisa, hitting her arm.
Crystal ashtrays are not light, and Elisa, holding her arm, looked at him, injured, tears pooling in her eyes.
Despite the pain in her hand, she stubbornly said to him, “Smoking is bad for your health. I don’t want anything to happen to you…”
From the beginning, Elisa did not detest the smell of smoke. She simply wished for his good health, free from harm.