“Yes, I’m here to pick her up.”
The young nurse only realized what Micah had said after he had entered.
“To pick her up?” Was he going to take Hattie out of the hospital?
Micah walked in quietly, looking at Hattie lying on the hospital bed, as if asleep. She looked even thinner than when she was released from prison, her face paler. In the sunlight, the small blood vessels on her neck were visible, and her hand resting on the blanket had no color in the wrinkled knuckles.
“Dr. Mason, spring is here, and we promised to go see the flowers together.”
Hattie’s heart fluttered, for a moment she thought she was dreaming. She opened her eyes and looked at Micah walking towards her. Although they hadn’t seen each other for three months, they had been in contact through phone calls.
During their time apart, she hadn’t felt much, but now that she saw him, it was hard to believe. It felt as if they hadn’t been apart for years.
“Is everything taken care of?” Micah didn’t ask about Hattie’s condition like others did when he entered, because asking would be futile, he couldn’t feel what she was going through.
To the young nurse, Micah’s attitude seemed cold and indifferent, lacking concern.
However, only those who truly knew Micah and Hattie would understand that they were not ones to easily express their sorrow. Instead of dwelling on the pain, they preferred to talk about lighter topics to distract themselves.
Micah’s care was hidden in his heart, not so evident, but like a cup of hot water in winter, easy to overlook yet essential.
Hattie felt a lump in her throat and after several attempts, she finally managed to speak, “It’s done.”
Hattie had briefly discussed the plan with Micah, and he had tried to stop her, but it was of no use.
In a way, Hattie was similar to Elisa, but she was smarter. Hattie could manipulate human weaknesses in a more rational manner for revenge. She knew what she wanted and what she didn’t want.
In Hattie’s eyes, a mutual destruction was too foolish. She wanted Harry to shoulder all the blame.
But for that to happen, there was a condition – that Harry loved her.
Micah’s gaze softened as he stood in front of Hattie for a long time before sighing.
“Why sigh? You’re becoming like an old man.”
Micah’s eyes held a hint of tenderness, “Since it’s all done, let’s go. The fish soup at home is still simmering, and we don’t want it to evaporate before we get back.”
Hattie joked, “Does Dr. Baker leave the stove on whenever he goes out? No fire safety awareness?”
“The bone soup simmers slowly for two hours. It’s perfect timing to bring you back for some.” He managed the timing tightly, as if it was crucial to take Hattie home today.
Hattie recalled when she left Micah before, he had been simmering a pot of fish soup, waiting for her to return.
Now, thinking back, it felt as though they had never been apart. She had just left for a short while, and the soup had been simmering a little longer. When she got back, it would be ready to drink.
Micah was like a close relative, always there for her. No matter how long she was away, there would always be a light on at home to guide her back, a pot of steaming soup to warm her stomach. That caring wasn’t just in words, it was genuine.
The young nurse watching on the side was surprised. It was the first time she had seen Hattie talk so much and the first time she had seen a genuine smile on her face.
However, the nurse still had to remind them, “Dr. Baker, Miss Mason may not be ready to leave yet. She just had surgery.”
“Have you forgotten that I’m a doctor too? Everything is ready at home, and it’s suitable for her recovery.”
With that said, the nurse could only nod. She quietly watched how Hattie and Micah interacted, unexpectedly finding their dynamic quite compatible.
Once the discharge procedures were completed, news of Micah’s arrival reached Harry. He knew that Micah was planning to take Hattie away.
Ignoring the headache, Harry struggled to get up. The nurses and assistants by his side couldn’t stop him, watching helplessly as he fell to the ground, blood trickling from his nose. He paid no attention to wiping the blood and staggered to get up and leave.
An assistant blocked his path, “Mr. Harry.”
“Move aside!” Despite his condition, he still had a domineering presence. His eyes were bloodshot, consumed by madness. He could only think of one thing.
“I need to stop Hattie. If I’m too late, she’ll leave with someone else. Let me through, I need her to stay.”
The assistant trembled in fear but stood her ground, “Your health is not stable. And even if you go, what can you do? Miss Mason has already decided to leave with Micah. You can’t stop her heart even if you stop her physically.”
“I’ve lost her heart long ago. I just want her as a person.” Harry had known for a long time that Hattie’s heart was never with him. She had never truly loved him.
When Hattie agreed to have his child, he had almost believed that she was starting to care for him. How else could she agree to have his child if she didn’t like him?
Dreams were easily shattered. Before he could feel any happiness, Hattie used that child to strike back at him.
Harry’s face darkened, his eyes filled with pain and isolation. He was like a wild beast, recklessly moving forward. He lowered his head, and blood dripped to the ground from his nose, each step leaving a trace of blood.
He pushed past the assistant in front of him, determined to intercept Hattie. He didn’t want her to leave. If Hattie went with Micah, she might never return.
Watching his back, the assistant shouted, “Mr. Harry, how long do you think your current condition can hold onto Miss Mason? Do you want her to die with you?”
Harry felt as if he had been struck by lightning, frozen in place.
Die together? Not long ago, he had been fantasizing about growing old with Hattie, maybe even being buried together.
But now, facing the reality of how soon his own death might come, he was at a loss.
How could a dying man hold onto a living one? It was an unsolvable dilemma.
He refused to accept it. If only he had realized sooner that he couldn’t live without Hattie, he wouldn’t have let her go to prison, wasting two years of his life. What had he been hoping for?
Harry sat in the quiet corridor, suddenly breaking into loud sobs. He had robbed himself of all hope, and he had also stolen Hattie’s future.
No one had ever seen Harry cry like this, not even when he found out he had incurable brain cancer. He had only shed a quiet tear then.
But now, it was as if his emotions had been unleashed, and he cried out, wanting to release the pain buried deep within his chest.