Chapter 213 Please, Raymond
Margaret had no clue why she was crying. She thought she was all out of tears. She knew this was inevitable from the moment Raymond talked to her, when Marlon ran over Gilbert, and when Percy torched Raymond's house.
But now that the day was here, Margaret realized she wasn't as tough as she thought, and her heart wasn't as strong. She was still scared of dying. She still had that survival instinct!
No matter how much she fought, how long she resisted fate, she always ended up back at square one. Fate always had a way of dragging her to where she was meant to be.
Margaret broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. She'd been a mess for a whole hour.
Raymond, worried since she hadn't come out for so long, walked to the bathroom door. But he couldn't hear her crying, just the sound of water splashing.
Raymond figured she must've fallen asleep in the bath. He knocked on the door. "What's taking so long?"
Hearing Raymond's voice snapped Margaret out of her daze, and she quickly opened her eyes. Water sprayed into her eyes and nose.
"I'll be out soon." She tried to sound normal, her voice steady. As soon as she spoke, water rushed into her mouth and nose.
Margaret had let out all her sadness, and now she could calmly share a bed with him again. She turned off the shower, peeled off her soaking wet jacket, sweater, and jeans, then put on a bathrobe and casually dried her hair with a towel.
She tossed her dirty clothes into the washing machine, set it, and let it start its cycle. She headed back to the master bedroom.
Raymond was lying on the bed reading a book, already in his pajamas. When Margaret walked in, he didn't even look up. Naturally, he didn't notice her red, tear-stained eyes.
Margaret was used to it. She figured when she died, he might not even show up at her funeral. When he heard she was dead, he'd probably react just like now, cold and indifferent, not even looking up, still in a good mood reading his book.
At this moment, Margaret couldn't know that when that day came, Raymond would be utterly shattered, aging overnight as he kept vigil by her body, calling her name with deep affection, wishing he could leave with her.
No one could see their fate, not Margaret, not Raymond. For now, Raymond thought he had everything under control, that Margaret would never escape him. He believed they would be together forever.
Margaret walked to the nightstand, bent down, and opened the drawer. Inside was a small, pink hairdryer. It was a birthday gift from Raymond when they were dating. She had bugged him for a present.
Knowing he was an orphan and broke, she had picked a hairdryer that only cost fifty bucks. It was way cheaper than the one she had at home. But because it was from Raymond, she had always cherished it.
Margaret had used it for years. Even when Raymond changed, neglected her, and asked for a divorce, she didn't throw it away. She wasn't the type to take her anger out on things.
Margaret grabbed the hairdryer and shut the drawer. She plugged it in. Suddenly, Raymond looked up, closed his book, and spoke to her with a blank face. She thought she had disturbed his reading and he was annoyed, so she sensibly turned off the hairdryer.
"I'll go outside to dry my hair," Margaret said, pursing her lips.
Raymond's face darkened. He got out of bed, walked over, took the hairdryer from her hand, and glanced at the edge of the bed. "Sit down."
"I don't need you to dry my hair," Margaret said. She didn't want to be that close to him.
Margaret was going to die soon and needed to get used to being alone. Otherwise, she'd be reluctant to leave.
Raymond frowned and said in a displeased tone, "It's not up to you. Sit down."
Margaret didn't want to argue. She sat on the edge of the bed. The hairdryer buzzed back to life. Warm air blew on her earlobes and neck. It was an intimacy she couldn't describe.
Raymond held the hairdryer in one hand and gently spread out Margaret's long hair with the other. He carefully dried her hair.
Before things went south, he used to dry her hair every time she washed it. He missed those happy, sweet days with Margaret for no apparent reason.
Raymond used to enjoy seeing her in pain, suffering. Her pain eased his guilt over his parents' wrongful deaths. But he gradually realized that her pain also tormented him.
Now he didn't like her fearing him or keeping her distance. If he could, he wanted to go back to the way things were.
Once the baby was born, things should slowly go his way. Raymond thought of this, and a barely noticeable smile appeared on his lips. It was a long-lost smile that Margaret couldn't see.
Raymond dried her hair meticulously, making sure every strand was dry. Only then was he satisfied. After drying her hair, he took a comb and started to brush it. Her hair ends were dry and lacked nutrition; it hadn't always been like this. Raymond frowned.
Margaret sat there like a puppet, not moving at all. She stared at the floor, waiting for him to finish. Margaret was planning; she could leave at any moment, and it was already a foregone conclusion.
Waking Marlon up quickly so she could see him one last time was the most important thing. So when Raymond picked her up and put her in bed, she didn't dare resist. She begged him to use the best medicine to wake Marlon up so she could see him one last time.
Margaret noticed that Raymond seemed to be in a good mood tonight; he hadn't even frowned. She gathered her courage, took off his glasses, and said in a soft tone, "Raymond, can you wake my dad up in the next few days?"
"Mr. Diaz said he's recovering well and should wake up in the next few days," Raymond said, surprised by her sudden action, then tucked her in.
Margaret added, "Can it be sooner? I want to see him as soon as possible." Margaret could die at any moment; she had to find a way to wake Marlon up sooner.
"Are you begging me?" Raymond squinted, expressionless.
Yes, she was begging him, and begging couldn't be done with words alone. Margaret understood what he meant, so she kissed the corner of his lips before saying, "I'm begging you. Please, Raymond."
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