Chapter 464 Sleeping Pills
Emma simmered the minestrone soup on the lowest heat, stirring it gently with a spoon that barely touched the bottom of the pot. Every movement was careful, as if too much force might ruin the soup's texture.
She drifted back in time.
It was years ago when she first made minestrone soup for George. Back then, she was a naive and hopeful girl, full of dreams for the future. Now, the same taste and aroma brought back memories, but everything had changed.
As the soup neared completion, she tasted it carefully, frowning slightly before making a subtle adjustment. Every detail reflected her meticulous care.
In the bedroom, George slowly woke up, his mind still foggy. His head throbbed, and his body felt drained of all strength. He looked around and found himself lying in bed, the room empty except for the faint sunlight filtering through the curtains.
"Emma?" he called out weakly, his voice raspy as if squeezed from the depths of his throat.
No response. The only sound was the gentle rustling of the curtains in the breeze.
Anxiety gnawed at him, and he struggled to get out of bed. The unease inside him drove him to find Emma. His legs felt like they were filled with lead, muscles trembling with weakness. As soon as he exerted force, he lost his balance and fell heavily onto the cold floor, making a dull thud.
The cold floor against his skin sent a piercing chill through him. The intense pain in his stomach and his weakness left him immobile, his body bound by invisible shackles.
At that moment, the door opened softly, and Emma walked in carrying a steaming bowl of minestrone soup.
The room was instantly filled with the soup's fragrant aroma.
She hurried to George's side, gently helping him back onto the bed. "What are you doing?" Her tone was cold, but her hands were exceptionally gentle, the strength just right.
George looked up at her, his eyes full of grievance and gratitude. His gaze conveyed a deep sense of relief and acceptance. Emma sat on the edge of the bed, scooping up a spoonful of minestrone soup and bringing it to his lips. "Let's dine."
The first spoonful of minestrone soup brought tears to George's eyes. The warmth of the soup and Emma's touch seemed to melt away all his pain and fatigue. In that moment, all his suffering dissipated with it.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly, as if afraid this moment would vanish.
Emma pretended not to hear, continuing to feed him. Her fingers gently brushed his lips, the gesture filled with infinite tenderness.
After she finished feeding George, a deep drowsiness enveloped him like an invisible net. His eyelids grew heavy, his consciousness blurred, thoughts drifting as if through a thin fog.
"Emma, I'm so tired," he murmured weakly, reaching out with a trembling hand to hold onto her.
Emma hesitated for a moment, her emotions churning inside. Finally, she sat beside him, gently cradling him in her arms. She tenderly combed through his disheveled hair, the movements gentle and soft.
"Sleep, I'm here," she soothed, her voice so gentle it could calm any storm.
George nestled against her, his breathing gradually steadying. He lifted his trembling eyelids, a mix of fear and hope in his eyes. "You won't leave me, will you?"
"I won't," Emma lied without hesitation, her voice steady and unwavering.
George closed his eyes in relief, the promise instantly calming his fears.
He soon fell into a deep sleep, his breathing long and even.
However, a resolute look flashed in Emma's eyes. She feared George would wake too soon and disrupt her carefully planned escape. She discreetly took out sleeping pills, dissolving them in a clean glass of water until they vanished without a trace.
Emma repeated her actions, giving George the medicated water.
Soon, his breathing became deep and even, his shoulders relaxing as he fell into a profound sleep.
Emma confirmed he was completely asleep before springing into action.
She quickly searched George's room for the boat keys, rummaging through drawers and lifting pillows until she found them in an inconspicuous corner. The cold metal of the keys sent a thrill through her fingertips, her heart racing with the anticipation of her escape.
She quietly closed the door, careful not to make a sound. She hurried to the docked boat, each step filled with determination and urgency. The metal hatch made a slight noise as she boarded, moving cautiously as if afraid to disturb anything. The boat's interior was complex, with various instruments and control panels that left her feeling a bit lost.
After repeatedly trying, she recalled the operation methods she had seen before and finally started the boat's system. The dashboard lights flickered, showing her nervousness and unfamiliarity with the controls.
Eventually, the engine roared to life, and the boat slowly left the dock, waves gently lapping against the hull.
Unbeknownst to her, the boat's autopilot system had been incorrectly set during her hurried operation, silently steering towards an unexpected direction.
The boat sailed for a long time on the vast ocean, and at first, Emma could still see the distant, blurry horizon under the bright daylight..
The blue water and sky met at a soft boundary. Gradually, thick fog spread like a heavy white curtain, quickly enveloping the entire sea. Visibility plummeted, as if the world had been swallowed by the white mist.
The signal lights on the dashboard flickered like dying fireflies before finally going out.
"No way," Emma muttered, her voice trembling with fear and anxiety. She frantically adjusted the various instruments, her long fingers quickly flipping switches on the control panel. But no matter how hard she tried, the boat's navigation system had completely failed. The surrounding world was a white void, isolating her from reality, with no sense of direction.
As Emma struggled with the instruments, a terrifying news story Mia had once told her during a quiet night at school suddenly flashed through her mind. Back then, they were still students, and each night before bed, they would share a scary story to set the mood.
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