Lost Me Gained Regret



"Prepare for what?"

Mr. Abdul and Dr. Andrews exchanged a glance before speaking, "Prepare for the worst. If this turns into pneumonia, combined with his severely inflamed wounds, he might..."

Let's not utter that word today.

"You can't stay up late or overwork yourself. Once you're done here, go back and rest. Even if you can't sleep, just lie down with your eyes closed." "We'll keep an eye on things here."This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Gregory was lying face down, and I could see the expanse of wounds on his back, making my nose sting terribly.

But I didn't want to cry anymore.

Crying is useless.

"Christine."

"Yes, Jane?" she responded.

I took a deep breath, trying to appear fine, "I could really go for some food right now."

"Alright, I'll go get you something."

It was late, and Dailey went along too.

"Get a lot, I don't think anyone has had the chance to eat."

Normally, we would have a meal after a funeral, but one thing after another kept us from it.

Yet, expressing this concern, Mr. Abdul and Dr. Andrews were still worried.

Whether one is genuinely feeling better or just pretending, they could tell.

After all, losing a loved one isn't something you recover from quickly.

It takes time.

Sometimes, you just have to let things take their course.

Do what you can and leave the rest to fate.

...

Gregory woke up for a moment, squeezed my hand tightly when he saw me, and then quickly closed his eyes again.

It was so swift, you'd miss it if you weren't paying close attention.

"It's okay, don't worry. He's definitely thinking of you but his body isn't allowing much. Seeing you safe and sound here must have reassured him," Mr. Abdul explained.

I wiped the sweat from Gregory's forehead and sighed softly.

After saying this, Mr. Abdul didn't disturb us any further and joined Dr. Andrews on the sofa to discuss some medical thoughts.

I didn't understand, so I just leaned by the bed, watching Gregory.

In a bit, I'd check his temperature again.

But with his temperature fluctuating, my heart was doing the same.

If Gregory got worse because of me, I would never forgive myself.

The people around me, one after another, never seemed to end well.

"You're overthinking again."

Startled by the words, I looked up to see Gregory opening his eyes, asking, "Were you the one talking just now?"

Gregory tried to smile, "You're worrying so much, I thought you had a fever and it made you delirious."

I quickly checked his temperature; it was still high. I looked at Mr. Abdul, "Can he have some water?"

Mr. Abdul answered, "You can moisten his lips with a cotton swab."

As I stood up, Gregory held me back, "I don't want anything. Stop b about, and don't just sit

lie

down on the bed and re xot

"And stop blaming yourself for everything, thinking you're some kind of curse."

I didn't even know how to respond, "How do you know all this when you've been sleeping? I haven't made a sound."

"Because I know you."

Gregory's eyelids drooped, clearly struggling, and I quickly said, "Don't talk too much now, save it until after your fever goes down."

Gregory pressed his thumb against my palm.

I was puzzled, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

After a brief silence, Gregory looked

at me and said, "Your palm has been sweating, and you gripped my hand tightly for a moment. I knew immediately you were worrying unnecessarily."

"Jane, don't punish yourself with others' mistakes."

I was about to suggest he rest some more when, before I could utter a word, he closed his eyes again.