Chapter 447 His Promise
Melissa reached out and tucked a stray lock of my hair behind my ear, just like my mom used to do when I was a kid. It hit me hard, bringing back a flood of emotions.
I grabbed her calloused hand, feeling the flour from her baking still in the creases. "Thanks, Melissa."
She didn't pull away, just patted the back of my hand gently.
I saw tears in her eyes, the green numbers from the monitor reflecting in her cloudy pupils. Her expression was the same one she always had when she was comforting me.
Melissa's hand rested on my shoulder, her eyes taking in my mud and blood-stained crystal dress. The zipper on the back was torn open, swaying gently in the morning breeze, with a few crystal embellishments missing, casting tiny shadows on the bedsheet.
She pressed her dry, chapped lips together like she wanted to say something, but instead, she pulled a clean knitted sweater from her canvas bag.
The light beige sweater had a faint scent of fabric softener, with a few wrinkles still visible at the edges. "Diana, go home and change."
I glanced at the numbers on the monitor and instinctively shook my head, my fingers tightening around Edward's hand.
His fingers were still cold, his shoulder wrapped in a blood-stained bandage.
The beeping of the monitor mixed with the rising voices outside the door.
Melissa didn't say more, just gently draped the sun-scented sweater over my shoulders. She steadied herself on the bedside table, her knees trembling slightly as she slowly crouched down, her joints making faint sounds. Her calloused, time-worn hands carefully untied the laces of my blood-soaked high heels. Her warm palm pressed against my cold ankle, her movements slow and gentle.
"I really can't leave." My voice trembled, my gaze never leaving Edward's pale face.
Melissa's hands didn't stop moving. "I'll stay with Mr. Howard when he wakes up. I'll take good care of him. Seeing you like this will only make him feel worse."
Melissa slowly stood up, placing a reheated bowl of soup in my hands, her thumb gently brushing my cold wrist. "Be good, go home and get some rest, then come back."
I clutched the bowl, shaking my head. "I'm afraid I'll miss the moment he wakes up."
"You won't." She comforted me softly, but as she turned to tidy the bed, she quickly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
"I'll text you every two hours. If there's any change, I'll let you know immediately."
I struggled to stand, my legs numb and weak. Melissa quickly supported my elbow, the warmth of her palm seeping through the sweater into my skin. At the door, I turned back and gently placed the music box by Edward's pillow.
Melissa followed, deftly tucking my stray hair back in place, this time with a bit more force. "Go on now. You need to rest well to be there for him."
The elevator descended slowly, the fresh scent of the sweater mixed with Melissa's familiar homely smell, soothing my frayed nerves. My phone buzzed in my bag; it was a message from Melissa: "Be careful on the way. The heater's on at home."
That short line, filled with familiar care, made my eyes well up, my heart warm.
At the hospital entrance, the morning fog still lingered as a taxi pulled up in front of me. The car radio was playing the morning news, the muffled voices blending with the sound of tires on wet pavement, suddenly reminding me of last night's rain. Edward had shielded me, rainwater dripping from his hair onto his shirt collar, yet he smiled and said, "When it's Skylar's birthday, let's go to the beach and watch the rainbow."
The driver glanced at my mud-stained dress through the rearview mirror, hesitated, then turned down the radio volume. The news became even more indistinct, but I caught the words "abandoned warehouse," like a needle pricking my heart.
I wrapped myself in Melissa's sweater, curling up in the back seat.
"Driver, take Seaside Boulevard, please," I said suddenly.
The driver didn't respond but steered the car onto Seaside Boulevard.
Outside the window, waves crashed against the shore, the gray sky hanging over a nearly empty beach with only a few morning joggers.
Edward's voice echoed in my ears again: "When it's Skylar's birthday, let's go to the beach and watch the rainbow."
Back then, his shirt collar soaked with rain, he smiled so confidently, as if nothing could stand in the way of our future.
Tears welled up unexpectedly, and I hurriedly wiped them with the sweater sleeve, smudging the condensation on the window. The driver handed me a tissue, silently turning up the car heater by two degrees.
My phone buzzed again, this time it was a video from Melissa.
In the video, Edward wore an oxygen mask, his eyelashes casting delicate shadows on his pale face. Melissa's voice came from off-screen: "Diana, Mr. Howard just woke up and asked to hear 'Token of Love.'"
The camera shook slightly, and the melody of the music box flowed out, blending with the beeping of the monitor, weaving a gentle net in the quiet hospital room.
I clutched my phone tightly. The music box's "Token of Love," each note felt like it landed on my heart. In the video, Edward's eyelashes fluttered, weak but trying to turn his head towards the music box, a small movement that took my breath away.
Melissa must have sensed my gaze, the camera lowered slightly, revealing Edward's bandaged hand stubbornly reaching for the music box.
My throat tightened, and I buried my face in the sweater, inhaling the lingering scent of sunlight and fabric softener. It mingled with the hospital's antiseptic smell and the faint scent of medicine from the video, intertwining in my memory. The car's jolt over a speed bump, mixed with the melody's notes, blurred the line between reality and memory.
"Miss, we've arrived."
The driver's voice startled me. I quickly turned off the video, noticing the screen was stained with tear marks. As I opened the car door, the sweater's hem brushed against my leg, the soft touch reminding me of Melissa's warm hands massaging my ankle.
The hallway lights flickered on with my steps, the warm yellow glow accompanied by the monitor's steady beeping from the video. As I pulled out my keys, my phone buzzed again, this time a voice message from Melissa: "Don't overthink it, get some rest. He won't let go of the music box, says he wants to open Skylar's gift with you."
Hot tears splashed onto my phone screen, blurring the word "gift." Even on the brink of life and death, Edward's heart held our promise.
I looked up at the warm light spilling from my front door, took a deep breath, knowing Edward was in the hospital room, listening to "Token of Love," waiting for me to return.
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