Chapter 369: Were You Just Concerned About Me?
Raymond's lips curved into a gentle smile as he reached out his broad, dry hand to touch the top of her dark hair. Even though she was sick, her hair felt soft and pleasant to the touch.
The sensation was nice, like feathers brushing against his palm.
"Hard to judge?" Margaret asked, her lips pressed together.
He patted her hair. "Surpassing the master."
The second half of the sentence didn't need to be said; they both understood.
Raymond pulled her into his arms, his large hand moving up from the hem of her hospital gown, playing with it as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "The surgery is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Do you have any wishes?"
Margaret's cheeks turned red from his touch. She bit her lip, thought seriously for a moment, then spoke. "I want to visit my parents."
She remembered David's words—only a forty percent chance of success. She couldn't recall her past, not even who her parents were.
Margaret felt deep guilt and remorse. She wanted to visit her parents' graves while she still had time.
"Your parents are buried in a remote village in Silverbrook. It takes twelve hours to drive there," Raymond said, not surprised by her wish.
Margaret had always been filial, keeping her family close to her heart.
Margaret thought he might find the drive too long. She instinctively held his hand, which was fiddling with her hospital gown, and turned to look at him. "Is it okay, Raymond? This is my only wish."
Raymond wanted her to rest and prepare for the surgery, but he couldn't resist her soft plea. "Raymond, this is my only wish."
Her tone was almost like the old Margaret, the one he had always cherished. How could he refuse?
"I'll go with you."
"Can we drive instead of flying?" Margaret asked, her eyes fixed on him. "I want to drive there."
She feared she might not survive the surgery and wanted more time with him. She wanted to remember his face, so if their fate was too short in this life, she could find him in the next.
"I'm worried your body can't handle the long drive," Raymond frowned.
Margaret insisted. "I can handle it. Raymond, this is my wish. Can you listen to me just this once? My condition is already bad; whatever happens will happen. Don't be afraid."
In the end, Raymond couldn't argue with her. He arranged for Alvin to drive and brought another bodyguard to switch drivers during the long trip to avoid fatigue.
The car had a partition separating them from the driver, ensuring their conversations and actions remained private.
Margaret was in good spirits during the drive, lying in Raymond's arms with his coat draped over her. His coat had a faint, cool woody scent that she loved.
Margaret looked down at his bandaged hand and touched it. The bandage was thick, indicating a deep wound.
She remembered Alvin's words—Raymond's hand was injured while saving her, the blade cutting to the bone.
How painful it must have been.
Margaret felt useless, unable to take care of herself and causing him harm.
Raymond had become successful but never forgot her, even treating her illness despite her tantrums and refusal to take medicine.
Margaret felt she wasn't a good wife, deeply regretting how she had treated Raymond.
Her nose tingled with emotion, and hot tears began to fall onto Raymond's bandaged hand.
"Margaret, what's wrong? Are you in pain? I'll get you some painkillers," Raymond said, seeing the tears on the bandage and instantly becoming worried.
Margaret saw him opening her bag to find the painkillers. This fool, she had caused him so much pain, yet he thought she was the one suffering.
Margaret turned and hugged his neck tightly, her fingers clutching his coat, wrinkling it.
She sobbed, tears streaming down her face.
She felt both moved and guilty, grateful for his deep love but ashamed of her behavior.
If she didn't survive the surgery, he would lose everything.
"Margaret—" Raymond didn't dare move, holding the painkillers, unsure what to do or say.
He didn't know what had upset her so suddenly. Was it her depression acting up?
Margaret continued to cry, her tears breaking Raymond's heart, as if it were being shredded into pieces.
When she finally calmed down, he gently pulled her arms away and used his uninjured hand to wipe her tears.
Oddly, even though she had stopped crying, his touch made her tears flow again.
"Margaret, I'm really worried about you," Raymond's eyes were red, his voice deep and hoarse.
Margaret lifted his bandaged hand, looked at it, and asked through her tears, "Does it hurt?"
"No," Raymond shook his head. Compared to the pain he had caused Margaret, this was nothing.
Margaret caring for him again was worth any pain.
"You're lying! The blade cut to the bone; how could it not hurt? Your flesh isn't made of steel."
"You're right. My flesh is like steel. Try hitting me; I promise it won't hurt," Raymond said, grabbing her hand to make her hit him.
Margaret clenched her fist, unwilling to hit him, not even a little.
Her eyes reddened again.
"It's just a small injury; it's fine now."
"Was I kidnapped, and that's why I lost my memory?" Margaret asked, her eyes swollen.
Raymond didn't respond, unsure why she brought up her memory.
Margaret thought he was trying to avoid the topic. "Alvin told me everything. You can't fool me."
"What else did he tell you?"
"He said you treated me very well. He told me to be good to you after the surgery, to treat you kindly," Margaret said.
Raymond frowned. "He's too clever for his own good."
"Don't blame him; I asked him," Margaret explained, thinking Raymond might be angry with Alvin.
Raymond touched her head. "Were you just worried about me?"
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