Chapter 358: If It Hurts, Remember to Say
No matter how much he tried to comfort her, Margaret just stared blankly, silently shedding tears.
She wouldn't even look at Raymond.
Raymond's patience finally snapped, and he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
As he left the hospital, he saw the tall pine trees covered in snow.
The ground was wet.
The cold wind was still howling, making the pine trees sway.
Raymond felt a burning anger inside him as he walked down the hospital steps.
Crystal-clear snowflakes landed on his cheeks, his meticulously combed hair, the shoulders of his black coat, and the shiny surface of his polished shoes.
He wanted to take out a cigarette and smoke.
But the wind was too strong, blowing out his lighter every time he tried.
Frustrated, Raymond broke the cigarette and threw it into the trash.
"Mr. Howard—" a respectful voice called out.
Raymond looked up and saw Alvin holding a bag of takeout. "I got some of Mrs. Howard's favorite food."
"Take it to her and make sure she eats it," Raymond said flatly.
Alvin nodded, then hesitated. "Mr. Howard, you should come up soon too. The food won't taste good if it gets cold."
Feeling a sudden warmth from Alvin's concern, Raymond said, "Okay," and watched Alvin head back into the hospital.
His phone rang in his pocket. He picked it up and answered, "Raymond, Mr. Jones will be coming to see Margaret the day after tomorrow. Are you sure everything is set on your end?"
"Mr. Taylor, do you think there should be a problem?" Raymond replied sarcastically.
Daniel said, "I tried to persuade Margaret to get treatment before, but she refused. I'm worried..."
"Daniel, do you think you can compare to me? Just because Margaret didn't listen to you doesn't mean she won't listen to me," Raymond said.
Seeing Raymond's confidence, Daniel didn't argue further. "With your assurance, Mr. Howard, I'm relieved."
As he was about to hang up, Daniel reminded him, "Mr. Howard, thank you for taking care of Margaret for me."
This was a reminder to Raymond that he had already agreed to let Margaret go and shouldn't back out.
Mentioning this made Raymond irritated. He didn't want to let Margaret go, but he had promised, and he couldn't go back on his word.
"If the surgery is successful and she recovers, I'll personally hand her over to you. Have you convinced your father to accept her?"
"That's not something you need to worry about."
Just as he hung up, Alvin called. "Mr. Howard, Mrs. Howard refuses to eat. You should come and see her."
Hospital room.
Raymond pushed the door open.
He saw food spilled all over the floor, creating a mess.
Margaret sat on the bed, her face turned away.
Alvin was sweeping up the mess. Seeing Raymond, he visibly relaxed.
No matter how much Alvin tried to persuade her, Margaret wouldn't eat. In the process, she accidentally knocked over the food.
"Mr. Howard, Mrs. Howard's hand got burned. It's my fault," Alvin said.
Raymond glanced at him. "You can leave now."
Alvin had finished cleaning up the mess and left the room.
A moment later, he returned with a tube of burn ointment and handed it to Raymond.
Raymond took it and Alvin left the room again, closing the door behind him.
Raymond, with his bandaged hand, held the burn ointment and looked at Margaret's small face turned away.
Her legs were tightly hugged by her arms. Since he entered, she hadn't looked at him once.
He sighed, feeling a sting in his nose.
If it were before, Margaret would never ignore him like this.
Suppressing the bitterness in his heart, Raymond walked over and sat on the edge of the bed.
He saw her hand, wrapped around her knees, red and swollen.
Raymond felt both heartache and anger.
Her hand was burned like this, though it was just a flesh wound, it pained him deeply.
He was angry because she had been causing trouble all day and still wasn't done. He didn't understand why she kept acting out, why she seemed to enjoy making a fuss more and more.
"How could you be so careless? Does it hurt?" Raymond softened his tone, trying to start a conversation.
Margaret still didn't look at him.
He didn't get angry, just chuckled and opened the burn ointment. "Still mad? Don't be. Anger makes you age faster."
Margaret stared at the curtain, blinking her dry eyes at his words.
She pressed her lips together.
She knew Raymond was trying to comfort her, trying to soften up.
He used to never be this patient with her; it was always her who tolerated him.
She should be happy, but she remembered what Sarah had said—that he wanted to save her because he hadn't finished tormenting her.
She felt no gratitude, only amusement.
To torment her, he was willing to bend and stretch.
A large hand reached for her burned hand, his rough fingertips carefully avoiding the swollen area. "Let me apply the ointment."
Before she could react or resist, he was already gently applying the ointment with a cotton swab.
Margaret looked over. This was the first time she had looked at him since he entered the room.
He was so focused on applying the ointment, as if he were working on a major project.
"Is the pressure okay? If it hurts, let me know," Raymond said, looking up.
Margaret saw his deep, unfathomable eyes.
His tone was so gentle.
It felt like the Raymond before their cold war had returned.
Margaret's heart wavered.
"What do you want to eat? I'll go get it for you." His expression was genuinely innocent, and she even saw affection in his face.
She almost believed he cared about her, liked her.
But if he liked her, her parents wouldn't be dead.
Margaret, stay clear-headed. He's pretending.
Thinking of this, Margaret felt it was pointless. She quickly pulled her hand back, not wanting to give him any advantage, not even for a minute or a second.
She feared she might fall for it, might be deceived.
She had to stay alert.
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten lunch, and you're not hungry?" Raymond chuckled indulgently.
Margaret tiredly looked away. "Raymond."
"I'm here." His voice was deep and slightly hoarse, very pleasant, very seductive.
Margaret put her hand under the blanket, her fingers digging into the tender flesh of her palm. The pain kept her mind clear, preventing her from doing anything foolish. "We can't go back."
Margaret's tone was cold, indifferent, and low.
Raymond's smile froze. Can't go back?
"How do you know we can't go back if we don't try?" He seemed to be telling her, or maybe just mumbling to himself.
Margaret said, "Don't waste your effort. I won't cooperate with the treatment. Leave. When I die, the hospital will contact you to collect my body. I've thought about it. We were married, and you bought me a coffin. When I'm dead and turned to ashes, bury me next to my parents so I can find them."
Lying in the coffin he bought would be the end of their relationship.
"Is death the only thing you can talk about? You're only in your twenties, and you have no hope at all?" Raymond was furious at her for being so determined to die.
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