Chapter 359 Nightmare
"Emma, we still have so much to talk about, so much to do. Lucas and Seraphine are waiting for us. You can't leave us. If you wake up, I'll do anything you want," George pleaded, his voice shaking. "Even if you want a divorce, I'll agree. Just please, wake up."
At that moment, Emma's brow furrowed deeply, and her lips trembled as if she were trying to say something.
"No, don't come closer," Emma's voice was faint, but George heard it clearly.
Emma was having a nightmare.
George was curious about what Emma was dreaming.
"Emma, wake up! It's okay, I'm here!" George gently shook Emma's shoulder, trying to rouse her from the nightmare.
But Emma's expression grew more pained. "Help me."
George's heart felt like it was being torn apart. He held Emma's hand tightly and whispered, "Emma, don't be afraid. I'm here. I'll protect you. Please wake up, okay?"
"Help me, Michael!"
Hearing Michael's name, George felt a swirl of conflicting emotions.
In her most vulnerable moment, Emma called out for Michael, while George had only brought her pain.
Just then, the door burst open, and Michael rushed in. His heart clenched when he saw Emma in such distress. He immediately embraced her, softly reassuring, "Emma, don't be afraid. I'm here."
Seeing this, George felt like he was falling into an abyss. He looked at Emma's familiar face, now seeming so distant.
"Get out!" Michael said coldly to George, his eyes full of hostility.
George's heart felt like it was being ripped apart.
Maybe Emma really didn't need him anymore.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the folded divorce papers, slowly unfolding them and signing his name at the bottom.
The ink bled into the paper as his hand trembled—he hadn't even noticed he was shaking.
The sound of the pen tip piercing the paper snapped him out of his daze, and the sound of a nurse's cart rolling down the hallway echoed outside the room.
"Emma." The name rolled off his tongue with a metallic taste, and he realized he had bitten the inside of his cheek.
He turned away, leaving the room silently.
A doctor tried to stop his staggering figure, holding up a medical chart. "Sir, if your wound reopens, it could lead to—"
The sight of George's black suit stained with blood made the doctor step back. George, pulling at his tie with a bitter smile reflected in the glass, said, "I don't need it!"
George refused the doctor's help and walked out of the hospital without looking back.
'Michael, if you ever hurt Emma, I won't forgive you!' George secretly vowed in his heart.
The monitor's green line jumped steadily in the morning light as Emma slowly opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was Michael's tired face. He was slumped over the side of her bed, one hand tightly holding hers, the other resting on the bed's edge.
His chin was covered in stubble, and he looked exhausted.
Emma blinked, a playful smile tugging at her lips. She reached out a finger and gently poked his chin, feeling the roughness of his stubble. Michael's brow furrowed slightly but he didn't wake up. She poked him again, a bit harder this time.
Suddenly, Michael opened his mouth and lightly bit her finger, startling her. She instinctively pulled her hand back, accidentally hitting the IV stand, which made a soft noise.
Not wanting Michael to know she was awake, she quickly closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep.
"You little goof," Michael said with a sleepy smile, his eyes opening gently as he looked at her. He released her finger and instead held her hand, feeling it warmer than the day before. "If you keep pretending to sleep, I'll pluck your eyelashes one by one..."
Before he could finish, Emma tilted her head and nuzzled his trembling palm with her nose, her eyes filled with a dreamy innocence. "Your eyes are red, like a fox guarding its den. Did you cry? Why? Was it because of me? Michael, why am I in the hospital?"
Michael paused, the smile in his eyes slowly replaced by a hint of confusion. Her tone and expression were different from usual, carrying a childlike innocence and dependence, as if she had returned to her most carefree school days.
Back then, she was just as free-spirited.
Michael had never told anyone, but he had liked Emma for a very long time. How long exactly? He couldn't remember.
Maybe it was the day Emma first bumped into George's arms when she started school.
She had not only bumped into George's heart but also into Michael's.
Michael deeply regretted waiting for Emma to grow up. Why couldn't he have acted sooner? If he had, Emma wouldn't have suffered so much.
Michael stood up and gently brushed her forehead. "I'll go get the doctor to check on you."
"Don't go," Emma suddenly grabbed his wrist, her grip light but insistent.
Her eyes showed a hint of unease, as if she was afraid he would leave.
Michael's heart tightened slightly. He sat back down beside the bed, softly reassuring her, "Okay, I won't go. But you just woke up, and the doctor needs to check on you, okay?"
She bit her lip, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes, but eventually nodded. Michael gently patted her hand and walked to the door, glancing back at her. She looked at Michael, filled with a dependence and softness he had never seen before.
Michael left the room, his face growing serious. He quickly walked to the nurse's station, a sense of unease gnawing at him. Emma seemed different from before, and he needed to understand her condition as soon as possible.
When Michael returned with the doctor, Emma was lounging on the bed, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, looking as relaxed as if she were on vacation, not someone who had just woken up from the ICU.
The doctor examined Emma thoroughly, then set down his stethoscope, speaking calmly but with a hint of caution. "Overall, she seems to be recovering well. All her vital signs are normal. However..." He paused, glancing at Michael and then at Emma before continuing, "We found some residual blood clots in her brain. While they don't seem to be causing any immediate issues, they could lead to minor aftereffects, such as occasional headaches, memory confusion, or changes in personality and mood."
Michael's expression tightened, a hint of worry creasing his brow. "What kind of treatment does she need? Does she need long-term observation?"
The doctor shook his head. "For now, she doesn't need extensive intervention. The main thing is to ensure she gets plenty of rest and to closely monitor her condition over the next few days. If there are no abnormal reactions after three days, she can be discharged. After that, we'll need to schedule regular check-ups to monitor the absorption of the blood clots."
Emma's eyes lit up when she heard that she could be discharged, and she immediately beamed. "Doctor, I feel great! I think I can be discharged early!"
The doctor smiled, reassuring her, "You do seem to be in good spirits, but it's best to observe for three more days to be safe." After giving a few more instructions, the doctor left the room, and Michael watched him go, his mind heavy with concern.
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