Chapter 419: The Final Life Countdown
Mary found the bird feed and then headed to the kitchen to check on the food cooking in the pot.
Margaret, feeling exhausted, watched the parrot in its cage. The parrot had its head down, quickly pecking at the feed with its beak.
Seeing how happy and content the parrot was while eating, a smile tugged at the corners of Margaret's lips.
The parrot lifted its tiny head and stared at Margaret.
"Don't you recognize me?" Margaret asked with a smile.
The parrot hopped around in the cage, flapping its black-feathered wings, and started squawking angrily at Raymond.
"You know he's ungrateful, yet you came back? Aren't you afraid that if you return, you'll never be able to leave again?" Margaret's words seemed directed at both herself and the parrot.
Margaret opened the iron cage.
The parrot fluttered out and landed in her palm, its round eyes fixed on her.
Margaret stroked the feathers on its head, which felt incredibly soft. "Were you unhappy out there? Is that why you came back?"
The parrot continued to gaze at her.
Margaret glanced at the gloomy sky, feeling a heavy weight in her heart.
She sighed and looked back at the parrot resting in her palm. "If you leave this time, don't come back. I can't take care of you anymore; I can only give you freedom. Honestly, I envy you. Even though you're just a bird, you can fly wherever you want without any worries."
"Everyone I cared about is gone. I'm left alone, struggling to keep going. You have to live well for me."
"Go on."
Margaret told the parrot with a bitter smile, but it didn't leave. Instead, it blinked and tucked its wings back in, still resting in her hand.
"Be good, go."
Margaret tossed her hand into the air, and the parrot flew a few times before landing on her shoulder.
"Margaret, goodbye—" the parrot squawked, saying farewell.
"Goodbye."
Goodbye forever, parrot.
Margaret couldn't go on living.
The parrot flew away, farther and higher.
"Why let it go if you like it so much?" a deep male voice came from behind.
Margaret didn't need to turn around to know who was speaking.
Hearing his voice, she couldn't help but frown, her hands at her sides clenching into fists.
She was so angry, wanting to explode, to yell.
But then she remembered she had decided to leave.
What was the point of arguing? It wasn't necessary.
She didn't want to waste the last moments of her life on this terrible person.
Margaret turned around, not even glancing at him as she walked past.
Being treated like air was really annoying.
But Raymond suppressed his anger and grabbed her wrist. "Why aren't you eating?"
"Why I'm not eating, Mr. Howard, you don't know?" Margaret's voice was icy cold as she looked up.
Raymond squinted. "What are you so angry about? What are you making a fuss over?"
He didn't even know why she was angry.
Did he really not know, or was he pretending not to?
She didn't care to find out anymore.
"I'm angry that you're not dead yet."
Raymond's face turned pale with anger, but he couldn't bear to grip her wrist too tightly and hurt her.
How was he not dead yet?
How many months did he have left?
But thinking about how he had wronged her, how he had cared more in their relationship, how he had lost her, and how Margaret had once loved him passionately, he realized he hadn't cherished her.
Raymond's anger dissipated. "Everyone dies eventually. We all will. Margaret, just hang in there, okay?"
"That day can't come soon enough."
"It's not far off. It'll be here before you know it."
Three to six months, how could that be slow? It wasn't slow at all.
He thought that by humbling himself and pleading with her, she would stop making a fuss.
But the Margaret now was a stranger to him. She couldn't empathize with him anymore.
Her eyes were filled with disdain, cold as ice, and her voice was chilling. "But I want you to die right now. Raymond, can you do that?"
Raymond's body stiffened instantly.
She wanted him dead so urgently.
Margaret pried his fingers off her wrist one by one. His fingers were long and well-defined, more beautiful than many girls' hands.
But he was truly bad.
"If you can't do it, don't play the victim. I'm not buying it."
Margaret didn't forget to mock him with her words before leaving the balcony.
Raymond's eyes grew redder and redder as he lit a cigarette.
The smoke drifted away in the cold wind.
Just like his life, slowly fading away.
He finally understood how much it had hurt when Margaret, suffering from a terminal illness, had tried to tell him, but he hadn't believed, listened, or cared, and had even added insult to injury.
Mary came over at that moment and said to Raymond, "Mr. Howard, I've made Ms. Hughes' favorite soup. Could you try to persuade her to drink some? She won't listen to me. This can't go on."
"Okay."
In the bedroom.
Margaret took out a notebook from a locked cabinet.
This notebook was a gift from Raymond.
It was cheap, only a few dollars.
But she had treasured it for years.
Margaret's fingers flipped open the cover, revealing a countdown to the end of her life.
She turned the pages, night after night. In the beginning, she had been optimistic.
She wanted to receive a gift from Ashley before her life ended, to see the mute boy one last time, and to clear Marlon's name.
She hoped Raymond would have a change of heart and treat her better at the end of her life.
But the recording pen from Ashley, which contained evidence of Sarah hiring someone to kill her, was crushed by Raymond without even listening to it. He had warned her, "Margaret, don't mess with Sarah. Between you and her, I'll always choose her."
She had thought the mute boy had married and had a happy life, but Sarah told her that the five million dollars had gone into her own pocket, and the mute boy had received no help, eventually dying from illness.
She had hoped to clear Marlon's name, but Marlon had died with the stigma of being a murderer, jumping off a balcony.
She had begged Raymond to treat her better, considering she didn't have much time left, but he had only wished for her death, and the death of her entire family.
Was this fate? She had struggled for so long, only to be knocked back down.
Her parents had been in heaven for so long. She wondered how they were doing.
Margaret continued to flip through the notebook. It was a record of her mental journey, but the suffering had been too much, and she had stopped writing.
But now, she wanted to make one last entry.
Margaret opened a drawer, found a pen, removed the cap, and wrote on a fresh page:
"Life countdown: 0 days. End life, make Raymond lose Margaret forever."
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