Chapter 1427:
“What happens if she doesn’t wake up?” Myron grabbed Jayceon’s shoulder, his gaze fierce and desperate. “Tell me!”
Jayceon hesitated, and then let out a long, painful sigh. “If she doesn’t wake up… she might stay like this for the rest of her life.”
Myron stood there, utterly stunned.
He slowly turned his head toward Millie through the glass.
Like this for life…? A vegetative state?
His mind went blank. It felt as if his entire world had collapsed in an instant. He couldn’t absorb his brother’s words. They bounced around in his skull, refusing to settle.
A hollow numbness spread through him, but at the same time, sorrow and dread flooded his chest.
Yes—dread.
He had survived storms, betrayals, and life-or-death ambushes, yet it had been years since he had tasted fear like this.
He felt it earlier when he sprinted to the factory to find Millie… And now, that same fear returned—ten times worse.
He was terrified. Terrified of what was happening. Terrified of losing Millie.
His palm, pressed against the glass, trembled uncontrollably, and his knees nearly buckled beneath him.
“Myron!” Jayceon rushed to support him, his voice thick with tears. “Don’t do this. We’re all praying for her. Things might still turn out okay!”
Jayceon had never seen him like this.
In his memories, Myron was the man who never broke—calm even when the sky was falling, the kind of person who always found a way out. But now, Myron looked like he was unraveling right there in the hallway.
The hospital lights were harsh and cold, and the faint sting of disinfectant filled the air.
R𝗲𝒶𝗅 f𝑜𝓇m 𝒽𝒶𝓁𝑑 ⓐt gⲁ𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⧼𝖼𝖮𝖒
Myron leaned heavily against the glass, eyes locked on the frantic rescue efforts inside.
Scenes of the fire replayed again and again in his mind. Millie’s body was covered in wounds… the wedding dress he had chosen for her was drenched in blood… the beam that struck her back, leaving her severely injured.
He hadn’t even dared hold her too tightly—afraid the slightest pressure would hurt her more.
Would she survive this? With injuries like that, how much pain must she be in?
A deep ache tore through Myron, and tears slipped quietly from the corner of his eye.
“It’s my fault… I didn’t protect you.”
He curled his fists, and the wound on his left chest split open again, blood seeping through his shirt.
He had promised Millie she could depend on him, trust him—but he had failed her.
They had just become husband and wife. Just exchanged vows of forever. Just become a true couple in front of everyone. Why did she have to suffer like this? Why wasn’t it him lying in that bed? Why couldn’t it be him?
Tears kept falling, soaking the front of his clothes. His vision blurred, and the physical pain felt like nothing compared to the crushing agony in his chest—a pain so sharp it nearly stole his breath.
.
.
.