Chapter 334 You'll Always be My Wife
Sarah's hand felt like ice.
Oliver was taken aback, then slowly lowered his head, pressing his face into her palm. He kept whispering that he was back.
Sarah didn't react, just lay there quietly.
She was just an innocent girl. He was the one who dragged her into his mess, made her suffer, and broke her spirit.
Yet, Oliver still blamed Sarah! He blamed her for not wanting to keep fighting.
Suddenly, Oliver shut his eyes.
His brows twitched with pain.
Late at night, Sarah woke up groggily. Her whole body ached, and she felt completely drained.
Her hand moved slightly. She wanted to hug herself, to feel a bit warmer.
Oliver's hand held hers. She slowly turned her eyes to meet his.
They hadn't seen each other for a month. When he left, he abandoned a scared Jacob and a sick wife to be with a murderer. Now, seeing each other again, they almost missed the chance to meet.
Sarah didn't want to see him. She slowly closed her eyes, her face full of sorrow.
Oliver guessed what she was thinking. He held her hand tightly, leaned close to her ear, his voice tense and trembling, "Sarah, I know you can hear me! In Vesper City, you knew you were sick, why didn't you tell me? You arranged for Jacob, arranged for Olivia. What about me?"
He continued, "Sarah, you were determined to die, was it for Dylan, or to punish me? Are you punishing me for deceiving you back then, or for my later infidelity?"
Oliver's words were harsh, but his eyes turned red.
Sarah kept her eyes tightly closed.
His hand cradled her cheek, the warmth soothing her cold skin, and his voice choked, "But Sarah, do I not care? Do you think I don't care about the complications between you and Lester?"
At first, his feelings for Sarah were fake, but later they became real.
But she wouldn't give him a chance. She was determined to die.
Oliver slowly pressed his face against hers. Moments later, the place where their cheeks touched was wet with warm tears.
For a moment, it was hard to tell whose tears they were.
Olivia, standing by, kept wiping her tears. She wasn't happy for Sarah because she knew this wasn't what she wanted. Sarah had already given up on Oliver.
The door to the ward suddenly opened.
A young nurse at the door cautiously said, "Mr. Windsor, Dr. Davis wants to talk to you."
After a moment, Oliver responded.
Oscar Davis was a renowned surgeon, specifically appointed by Henry as the attending physician.
When Oliver went over, Oscar pushed a stack of medical records in front of him. This time, Oscar didn't speak optimistically. He truthfully informed, "It's already spread! Mr. Montague is looking for a suitable liver donor, but if the situation worsens, even with a suitable liver, there's no point in transplanting. It would only increase the pain."
Oliver lit a cigarette, his fingers trembling, his voice also trembling, "If we don't transplant, how long does she have?"
Oscar replied, "Less than a month!"
Oliver's Adam's apple moved uncontrollably. He took several puffs of the cigarette, coughing from the smoke, "Mr. Montague is looking for Dylan, right? Has he been found?"
Oscar gently shook his head.
Oliver gently closed his eyes. Not finding Dylan was equivalent to sentencing Sarah to death.
Leaving the doctor's office, Oliver was disheartened.
Late at night, the hospital corridor seemed to have a different kind of noise, as if it were filled with countless ghosts. Those sounds symbolized the blood on his hands, the weight of his sins.
He had done wrong, but it was Sarah who had to die.
In the dead of night, Sarah lay on the bed silently, Olivia always by her side. She choked up, saying, "The doctor said to stay by her side because Mrs. Windsor could die at any moment."
Oliver snapped, "That's nonsense!"
But Sarah's waxy yellow face on the hospital bed, lifeless and pale, proved Olivia wasn't lying.
Oliver kicked off his shoes and socks, climbed into bed, and wrapped his arms around Sarah from the side.
He buried his face in her neck, his voice soft, "Sarah, when you get better, let's go on a trip, okay? We'll take Jacob with us! You always wanted to go to Seaul City, right? That'll be our first stop. After that, wherever you want to go, I'll take you. And during the trip, let's have another kid, a daughter, okay? Jacob would love a sister."
Sarah listened to Oliver's heartfelt words in a daze.
She managed a faint smile. She didn't care about him, but she cared that he was still bothering her. Mustering the strength to speak softly, she shattered his dream, "Oliver, I'm about to die. Why pretend to be affectionate? How can a dying person go on a trip with you?"
"How can a dying person give birth to a child? Oliver, I even gave up Jacob because you don't deserve to be a husband, you don't deserve to have a son to accompany you in old age. Someone like you should be alone. No! I forgot you still have Ellie."
Sarah smiled faintly, continuing, "That day, you said you'd be back in a week, but you didn't come back for a month. You were with Ellie, right? If you love her so much, why not give her a title? Why bother telling someone who hates you that you love them and want to spend the rest of your life with them?"
"But you know what, not to mention the rest of my life, I don't want to see you for even a second! I wish I had never met you!"
"Only Jacob is innocent! I feel sorry for him, having a father like you, but it's okay, soon you won't be related. I'll give him to Grace and Henry as their son. I think growing up with them, he'll be much more cheerful, much more normal."
Sarah's words cut deep, each one a dagger to Oliver's heart.
Oliver turned her face, holding her emaciated cheeks, and suddenly went crazy, kissing her, "Jacob is my son, and you are my wife, no one can change that!"
Oliver was desperate to prove it, to prove she was still his wife.
Sarah's clothes were torn open, revealing a body so thin it was just bones, devoid of any feminine allure. But Oliver didn't stop, he groped her, wanting to have sex with her, to prove she was still his woman.
At this moment, Oliver was mad. Even if Sarah died, he wanted to prove it.
Sarah didn't resist, she couldn't resist, she didn't care. When her heart was no longer there, her body didn't matter, it was just getting dirty again.
But she was too thin, her body full of bones, no longer having a woman's softness. Imagine, how could a dying person have any desire?
Oliver lay on her, panting heavily.
Sarah looked up, quietly staring at the ceiling light. Her voice was filled with exhaustion and weariness, she sighed softly, "No matter how affectionate you sound, facing such a body, you don't have desire, do you? Oliver, let's let each other go, don't appear in front of me again, let me leave quietly, okay?"
'Of course not!' Oliver thought.
His eyes were red, staring at Sarah, he suddenly kissed her.
He kissed her deeply, and his body radiated with desire, heating her skin.
Sarah lay quietly, murmuring softly, "You bastard!"
Oliver looked at her, his voice resolute, "Yes, I'm a bastard! But I won't let you leave me, forget me, die like this, or try to get rid of me! Sarah, you'll always be my wife."
Oliver would find a cure for her illness. Even if he had to travel the world, he would find a suitable liver for her transplant. If he couldn't, he would die with her, and they would be buried together.