Chapter 602 Care
Michael stormed over and grabbed Zachary's right hand without saying a word. There was a band-aid on his index finger, with water droplets clinging to the edges.
"Cut it while slicing fruit!" Zachary snapped, his neck stiff with defiance. "Why do you care?"
Michael let go of him, his eyes scanning the kitchen counter. A fruit knife was missing from the knife block, and there were apple peels on the cutting board. He remembered how Celeste always peeled apples in a continuous spiral, creating a long, unbroken strip.
"I'm going to the hospital," he suddenly announced.
Zachary's face fell instantly. "What? You just sobered up, why are you going to the hospital? Emma's got her husband taking care of her!" He grabbed Michael's sleeve. "How about we go play golf? That new club just opened..."
"Let go," Michael's voice turned cold.
"Michael, are you out of your mind?" Zachary exploded. "Emma took a bullet for George, what more do you want? They're a married couple..."
"I said, let go."
Furious, Zachary threw the car keys to the ground. "Fine! I'll take you! Let's see how you humiliate yourself!"
On the way, Zachary drove like a maniac, running three red lights in a row. Michael stared silently out the window, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the shell in his pocket. As they crossed the bridge, Zachary suddenly swerved, bringing the car to a screeching halt at a lookout point.
"Celeste made soup for you before she left," he said abruptly. "She simmered it for three hours, watching the heat the whole time."
Michael's fingers froze.
"That cut on her hand wasn't from slicing fruit," Zachary pounded the steering wheel. "It was from cleaning up the glass you broke! She bled all over the place but still insisted on changing your clothes and wiping your face!"
The sea breeze blew in through the car window, carrying a salty tang.
"She told me not to tell you," Zachary sneered. "Said 'he doesn't need to know.' Michael, what gives you the right?"
Michael closed his eyes. After a long pause, he said softly, "Drive."
Zachary floored the gas pedal, gritting his teeth. "I must be crazy to put up with you two!"
Michael stood at the corner of the hospital hallway, holding a bouquet of fresh lilies. He had changed into a navy blue suit, even swapping his cufflinks for the pearl ones Emma liked. But as he reached the door of the hospital room, he saw through the half-open door George carefully feeding Emma porridge.
"Is it too hot?" George's voice was unbelievably gentle as he blew on the spoonful of porridge. "I had the chef make it specially."
Emma shook her head, a bit of porridge clinging to her pale lips. George immediately wiped it away with his thumb, the gesture so natural it seemed he'd done it a thousand times. Emma didn't pull away, her eyelashes just fluttered slightly.
Michael's fingers tightened, snapping the stems of the lilies in his hand. The flower juice stained his meticulously chosen cuffs, but he didn't notice. Inside the room, George suddenly looked up, his eyes locking onto the figure outside the door. A barely perceptible smirk played on his lips as he leaned closer to Emma and whispered something.
Emma nodded lightly, a tired smile appearing on her face. That smile felt like a knife twisting in Michael's heart.
"Excuse me?" A nurse's voice came from behind him. "Are you here to see Ms. Stuart?"
Michael hastily shoved the flowers at the nurse. "No." He turned and walked away, his back stiff as a board.
Inside the room, Emma's eyes unconsciously followed the retreating figure. George noticed her distraction, his expression darkening. "What's wrong? Don't like the porridge?"
"No," Emma withdrew her gaze, her voice barely audible. "Just tired."
George set the bowl down and tucked her in. "Then rest. I'll be right here."
Emma closed her eyes but couldn't fall asleep.
Michael's kindness, his care for Seraphine, haunted her like a curse. But the image of Seraphine lying in the morgue kept crashing into her mind.
How could someone end up like this?
Michael's kindness to Seraphine, was it all a lie from the start?
Yes, Michael had saved Emma, but she could never forgive him. Seraphine was her bottom line!
Under the sheets, her fingers clenched tightly, the pain from her nails digging into her palms keeping her awake... she couldn't afford to trust anyone so easily again.
At the end of the hallway, Michael punched the wall. Blood seeped from his knuckles, but he didn't feel the pain. Zachary's call came through just then. "Michael, need me to pick you up?"
"She smiled," Michael interrupted, his voice hoarse. "She smiled at George."
There was a brief silence on the other end before Zachary spoke, unusually serious. "So? Have you finally decided to give up?"
"No!" Michael's voice rose. "That bastard George, do you know how he treated her? If it weren't for me..."
"Do whatever you want," Zachary snapped, hanging up.
Michael leaned against the cold wall, slowly sliding down to the floor. The shell in his pocket dug painfully into his thigh, a "charm" Emma had given him. Now it seemed like a cruel joke; the person who gave him the shell didn't want him anymore.
Three days later, Emma's wounds had healed quickly. During the doctor's rounds, he smiled and said, "Ms. Stuart is recovering well. Mr. Russell must be taking good care of you."
Emma didn't respond, just looked out the window. George was on the balcony, talking on the phone, his posture as straight as a pine tree. He hadn't left her side for days, handling all his affairs from the hospital room. She wasn't ungrateful, but...
"Emma," George walked in, holding a freshly peeled apple. "Lucas says he misses you. Want to video call him?"
Emma shook her head. "Don't let Lucas see me like this." She paused. "You should go back, too."
George's smile froze. "Are you kicking me out?"
"I'm just repaying a debt," Emma met his eyes. "You saved me before, and I took a bullet for you. We're even now."
The apple fell from George's hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud. He bent to pick it up, then suddenly knelt on one knee by the bed. "Emma, I know I was wrong. I've regretted it every day for years, I..."
"George," Emma interrupted, her voice soft but firm. "Some things can't be undone by regret."
George stared into her eyes, searching for any sign of wavering. But Emma's gaze was as calm as a still pond, without a single ripple. Finally, he stood up, defeated. "Fine, I'll go. But I've hired a nurse for you, and you have to accept it."
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