By the ti Janet was six months pregnant, her belly had grown large, but her frail body had grown weaker still. Sotis, even standing was a struggle after lying down for so long. Yet ever since that fateful night she woke up, her world had turned utterly black — and utterly unfamiliar.
"Why can’t I see anything? Where am I? Who are you?" Even in her dreams, fear gripped her, jolting her awake. Charles stayed by her side day and night, but when she asked those words, the fragile fortress he had built in his heart collapsed with a deafening crash.
Clinging only to the sound of his voice, he whispered ceaselessly into her ear, "Janet, it’s okay if you forget ... just please hold on a few more months, alright?"
Just a little longer, he vowed silently. He would be with her, and once those few months passed, he would wrest her back from Death’s grasp.
But fate had other plans.
The weight of her blindness, and the unfamiliarity of everything around her, finally broke through Janet’s fragile restraint. Lost and confused, she scread out in terror. At tis, she resented the child growing inside her, no longer tenderly caring for the baby but desperate to rid herself of this unbearable burden.
Charles even entertained the dark thought of ending the pregnancy while she was in such delirium — yet he dared not risk it. If he lost this gamble, and she woke to find what he’d done, he would have no face left to et her.
Because then, he wouldn’t lose only the child — he would lose her.
"Go away! Why is it all so black? Black! I can’t see anything! Ahhh!!!"
Her screams pierced his heart like a knife, wrenching it into a painful knot that refused to ease. She bit and clawed at him, frantic and wild — hands raking from his arms to his shoulders, to his chest. His strong skin was soon covered in scratches, each wound a faint shadow of the tornt she endured inside.
Her episodes worsened — from once a week to every two days, then almost daily. The acupuncture treatnts, once a balm, no longer eased her pain. Charles held her through every outburst, letting her vent her anguish on him, as long as she didn’t hurt herself or their precious child.
When she finally exhausted herself, tears spent and spirit broken, she’d close her eyes. Then he would kiss her, stroke her hair, and watch over her through endless sleepless nights.
Janet knew she shouldn’t act like this. When she regained clarity, she could only imagine the damage she’d done. Yet she was losing control over her self-harm impulses — her body no longer obeyed her. Even with eyes closed, she could still envision the fading mories, haunting her mind.
"Charles, have I been bad again?" Her pale wrist caressed his handso face, the touch damp with tears. Why did she always put him through this?
She hated herself for it.
"I’ll only ever allow you to be this way with , Janet. I’m sorry..." Charles cradled her, whispering wordless apologies. Sorry he could only watch her cry in pain, unable to soothe her suffering, and worse — making her worry about him in return.
"Fool... the one who should say sorry is , Charles. Sorry... I might..."
Janet buried her face in his chest, the scent of him overwhelming her. Tears slipped freely now. She was running out of strength. Yet that sentence — the one she longed to say — stayed locked deep inside. Even in despair, she refused to let him fall with her.
"Don’t say that, Janet. Don’t say those words. I want you to love !" Charles silenced her before she could speak, pressing his lips fiercely against hers.
Their mouths t in a desperate, tender entanglent — lips, tongues, and breath intertwining. Only then did he feel her presence — only then did she feel truly alive to him.
"Charles, don’t let Callum or Angela co around anymore!" Janet’s pale cheeks flushed with a rare, delicate blush—an ethereal beauty tinged with illness that made Charles involuntarily nod.
No matter what form she took, he was hopelessly addicted to her.
Janet feared her current state would frighten Callum. Now, so irrational and volatile, she could hurt anyone at any mont—except Charles. She didn’t want anyone else to see her in such a pitiful condition.
"All right, no one cos here," Charles whispered close to her ear, his voice firm. Every ti Janet’s face broke into a guilty smile, he cherished each second with her even more, terrified that the next mont she might close her eyes and revert to the scared, confused woman who only repeated, "Who are you?"
Those three simple words stabbed at his heart like knives, opening fresh wounds bleeding with pain.
"Boss, Manfred ca by. He insists you et him — he says there’s new hope regarding the lady’s condition!" Giles relayed the ssage, and though Charles initially wanted to refuse, the words caught in his throat. When it ca to Janet, no obstacle was too great.
"I’ll see him. Now!" Without hesitation, Charles grabbed his phone and dialed Manfred’s number. He never left the villa, so Manfred would have to co to him.
Half an hour later, a sleek sports car roared into the driveway. Charles rushed out to et him, swallowing his pride. Manfred was the last person he wanted to owe anything to, but for Janet, Charles would humble himself without question.
"So? Do you have a way?" Charles’s voice trembled slightly. He dared not hope too much, fearing disappointnt would crush him.
"I have info from a friend about Corrine, an Australian-Chinese doctor. They call him the undefeated legend in the dical world, obsessed with brain research. If he performs the surgery, chances are good. But he’s temperantal — only operates on kids under ten or elderly over fifty. He’s elusive, too — appointnts take six months to a year to book. I’m trying to reach him now. Can Janet hold on?" Manfred’s concern was genuine, and Charles felt his old prejudices lt away. He loved Janet too fiercely to care about rivalry now — all that mattered was bringing her back to health.
"She’s slipping more each day. Sotis she forgets — her awake monts are so few. We have to find Corrine and get his approval. Then, we’ll operate," Charles said grimly, no longer weighing odds or risks. Child or no child, victory or failure — he would try everything, again and again.
Reviews
All reviews (0)