Sweeping Him Off His Feet Chapter 143: Oh… what have I done?

The mont Charles picked up the call, he brought the phone to his ear, listening intently.

His heart sank.

Everything around him seed to freeze. Even after the caller abruptly ended the call, Charles remained rooted in place, motionless, as if the world had suddenly slipped out from under his feet.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Reuben asked, concern lacing his voice as he arched his brow.

Charles swallowed hard, his gaze unfocused.

"Umm... sothing urgent just ca up," Charles spurred out, his tone laced with tension. "I have to go—right now."

Without waiting for another word, he turned, sliding his phone inside his pocket with a swift motion.

"Besides, it was nice eting you," Charles added quickly, offering Reuben a faint smile as he stepped toward the roadside and raised a hand.

A yellow cab screeched to a halt monts later, and without another glance, Charles climbed in, shutting the door behind him.

He leaned forward and gave the driver the address in a tight voice, his mind already racing ahead.

Minutes later, the cab rolled to a stop in front of a towering hospital building.

Charles stepped out in haste, paid the fare with trembling hands, and bolted through the glass doors of the hospital building.

Just as Charles reached the entrance, his eyes caught sight of Mr. Wales standing near the reception.

"Mr. Wales," Charles called, breathless as he closed the distance between them, his eyes wide with worry. "What happened to Augustine? Is he... is he going to be alright?" he asked, his voice trembling, each word laced with fear.

Tears had already welled up in Charles’s eyes, threatening to spill down his cheeks.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, the fear gnawing at his insides.

Mr. Wales exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. "I was expecting you to co by last night," he said softly.

Then, with a hint of curiosity in his voice, he added, "Did sothing happen between you and Augustine? Did you two have a fight?"

Charles didn’t hesitate. He nodded quickly, his voice trembling as he spoke. "I had an argunt with him and... and I told him I didn’t want to stay under the sa roof with him..."

Charles words fell apart one after the other, barely holding together as the tears finally spilled, carving a path down his cheeks in quiet agony.

Mr. Wales placed both hands gently on Charles’s shoulders, offering a reassuring pat. "Augustine is strong—he’s going to pull through," he said softly. "You have to be strong for him too."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"And besides," Mr. Wales added with a light, playful tone, "Augustine would have my head if he knew I stood here and let you cry."

Behind Mr. Wales humor, his eyes carried the sa fear and pain he was trying so hard to hide.

Mr. Wales’s heart felt like it was being torn apart, but he knew he had to hold it together—for his wife, for Charles, and most importantly, for Augustine.

If he stayed strong, maybe it would give them all the hope they needed.

Charles swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can... can I go and see Augustine?"

Mr. Wales gave a small nod, his voice low. "Room 208."

Without wasting a second, Charles turned and hurried down the hallway, his heart thudding like a drum.

When he reached the room, he paused at the door, his hand trembling on the knob.

Through the small transparent glass, he spotted Mrs. Wales seated quietly on the couch inside, her hands clasped tightly on her lap, eyes fixed on the motionless figure lying on the hospital bed.

Her face, pale and drawn, told the story of a sleepless night filled with worry and fear.

Mrs. Wales hair, once neatly styled, now hung in tangled strands. Her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, her eyes were locked on Augustine’s still form, a quiet sorrow in her gaze that seed to speak volus.

The once composed and graceful woman was now a shadow of herself, broken by the weight of her son’s condition.

Guilt gnawed at Charles as he stood frozen by the door, watching Mrs. Wales’ disheveled form and Augustine lying motionless.

His mind raced with a flurry of questions.

’Why did I drive him out? Why did I argue when I knew he was upset?’

The regret hit harder than any argunt they had ever had.

Seeing Mrs. Wales like this only amplified the pain. Charles heart ached, torn between the guilt and the overwhelming desire to turn back ti.

Charles hesitated at the door, fear and guilt locking him in place.

’I’m the reason Augustine is here,’ a voice whispered inside his head.

The weight of those words made Charles knees buckle slightly.

He wanted to turn back ti, to undo the argunt that had driven Augustine away.

’If I could go back, I wouldn’t have pushed him out.’

Charles stood frozen in front of the hospital door for what felt like an eternity.

After twenty minutes, Mrs. Wales finally shifted her gaze toward him.

His heart raced, and with a deep breath, he slowly opened the door, stepping inside the room, biting down on his lower lip to suppress the surge of emotion rising within him.

Mrs. Wales shot Charles a look that could cut through steel, her eyes scanning him coldly from head to toe.

"You... just make it quick," she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain.

Rising slowly from the couch, she stepped out of the room, too drained to say anything more.

In that mont, Mrs. Wales thoughts were consud solely with the hope that Augustine would wake up, leaving her too emotionally exhausted to focus on anything else.

As the door clicked shut behind Mrs. Wales, Charles rushed to the bed, his heart heavy with regret.

He gazed down at Augustine, his face pale and unmoving, and that alone made more tears stream down from Charles eyes.

"Oh... what have I done?" Charles whispered, his voice breaking.

His legs trembled, unable to hold him any longer, and he collapsed to the floor, overwheld by guilt and sorrow.