When Mrs. Protich woke up, just thinking of the name Winifred Dawson made her head throb painfully, as if a needle were piercing her brain, reminding her not to think about Winifred Dawson.
But every day, she would think about Winifred Dawson when she had nothing else to do. She wondered if Winifred was doing well outside, if she was sick, if she was eating and sleeping well, or if she was being bullied by others. Winifred’s body was so delicate; could she withstand the hardships of living outdoors, exposed to the elements?
Winifred Dawson had thought about her future life, but had she considered Mrs. Protich?
Mrs. Protich tried to get out of bed. With no one around and without Leland Burns watching her, she thought she might be able to leave.
Once outside, she could see her daughter.
In this quiet environment, she could hear her own breathing. Thinking about Winifred Dawson every moment was unbearable.
Mrs. Protich began searching for her phone and finally found it in the drawer of the bedside table.
She reached for it with difficulty, one hand hooked up to an IV.
When she turned on the phone, a message popped up-not from Winifred Dawson but a short number.
She opened it and saw it was about an insurance policy purchased for her by Winifred Dawson.
The short number had called her that afternoon while she was still unconscious, so she missed the call.
During her period of unconsciousness, there had been no other calls or messages except for that one.
Usually, at seven o’clock every day, a message from Winifred Dawson would arrive. But today, the inbox was empty; there was no message from her.
Mrs. Protich knew those messages had been scheduled by Winifred long ago. Now that there was none today, there might never be any more in the future.
She used to read that message every day. Now that it was suddenly gone, even though she knew this day would come soon, it still felt unbearable and unfamiliar-a significant part of her daily life was missing.
Mrs. Protich felt a sharp pain in her head as sadness overwhelmed her.
She rubbed her head and placed the phone on her chest. At that moment, a news flash appeared on the TV.
A maritime accident had occurred in J City involving a ship; the police were currently conducting search and rescue operations. Among the list of victims…
Mrs. Protich glanced at the screen and immediately saw Winifred Dawson’s name.
Instinctively, she grabbed the bed rail to get up, causing the phone on her chest to fall to the ground with a thud.
The sound seemed to unlock a door in her memory. Under this stimulation, her memory returned. Mrs. Protich’s face turned pale as she tried to get a closer look at the name on TV, but the information about Winifred Dawson had already scrolled away.
She remembered how she ended up in the hospital.
Henry and Wesley had come to Autumn Joy Estate at noon and told Leland Burns that Winifred Dawson had encountered a maritime accident in J City and was missing. Although they said they didn’t know if she was alive or dead, under such dangerous circumstances, survival was nearly impossible.
Winifred Dawson had died; she died in the cold sea.
Tears welled up in Mrs. Protich’s wide-open eyes as pain enveloped her entirely. She couldn’t avoid it; it gripped her like a giant hand squeezing tighter and tighter. She trembled with pain, breaking into a cold sweat despite it being early August when cicadas were still chirping outside-it felt like winter had arrived suddenly. She shivered uncontrollably and clutched at her blanket.
The needle on the back of her hand had dislodged; blood flowed backward into the IV tube, staining it red. It hurt, but she couldn’t feel it; all she could do was clench her fist tightly.
She wanted to cry out or say “Winifred Dawson,” but all that came out were choked sobs.
The female caregiver returned with heated soup and noticed something wrong as soon as she reached the door. Approaching closer, she saw that Mrs. Protich had suddenly sat up despite being instructed to rest quietly without moving around too much.
Moreover, the needle on Mrs. Protich’s hand had shifted, causing blood to flow back considerably; a nurse needed to handle it immediately.
“Mrs. Protich, why did you sit up? Lie down quickly; look at your hand-blood is flowing out! Relax your fist; I’ll call a nurse…”
Mrs. Protich kept her head down so that no one could see her expression clearly. The caregiver initially thought she’d just gotten tired of lying down until she noticed water droplets falling from Mrs. Protich’s face onto her hand.
The caregiver paused upon hearing Mrs. Protich’s choked sobs and noticing her trembling body; only then did she realize something was wrong.
While pressing the call button for doctors and nurses to come over urgently, she anxiously asked Mrs. Protich if anything hurt or felt uncomfortable.
Mrs. Protich said nothing; all she did was cry and mumble incoherently through sobs.
“Why are you crying? What happened while I was gone?” The caregiver was utterly confused.