Chapter 238: Mia, How Long Do You Want to Torture Me?
Their eyes met.
Two pairs of equally red and swollen eyes, looking deep into each other's souls.
It felt like a century had passed before James spoke again.
"If I try it, will you give up?"
"Yes!"
Mia just didn't want him to give up easily.
Treatment required his active cooperation!
"Fine! I'll try!"
James gave in.
He was willing to try for her and their child.
"Mia, I'll try! For one month. During this month, I'll actively participate in treatment. If I can see even a glimmer of hope, I won't give up."
"I'll keep going with the treatment until I can stand up again and take care of you and the baby."
"But if there's no hope, you have to listen to me!"
One month - the baby in her belly wouldn't even be three months old by then.
By that time—
"Okay!"
Mia agreed just as readily.
She didn't think too much about it. She just wanted him not to give up easily for her and the baby's sake.
As long as he was willing to try, that was enough.
Maybe there was still hope?
...
The injury on James's leg wasn't serious. After two days of rest, the wound began to scab over.
He called Louis and asked him to arrange treatment.
Louis hesitated, clearly wanting to talk him out of it. But hearing James's insistence, he arranged rehabilitation for him.
An hour and a half every day.
On weekdays, Mia continued working during the day and would go to James's place in the evening to take care of him and keep him company.
James had Louis schedule the rehabilitation for the afternoon.
To avoid Mia - he didn't want her to see.
On a weekday, Mia finished meeting with a client early in the afternoon and didn't need to return to the office.
She glanced at the time - it was exactly when James had his rehabilitation session, so she took a cab to the hospital.
At the hospital.
A private rehabilitation room.
Louis had connected James with a very experienced therapist.
He was responsible for helping James with rehabilitation.
He and Hawk together helped James stand on the rehabilitation equipment.
James's legs had absolutely no strength.
When he stood up, his hands gripping the handrails on both sides, he said to the two men supporting him, "Let go."
"Mr. Smith!"
The therapist wanted to offer advice.
James's situation was different from regular rehabilitation patients - he couldn't stand on his own right now.
"Let go!"
James's tone grew heavier.
The authority in his presence made both men withdraw their hands that had been supporting him and relieving the pressure on his body.
Without their support.
Sweat quickly beaded densely on James's forehead.
His legs had no strength - standing could only rely on his arms for support.
No matter how fit he was, supporting his entire body weight with just his arms couldn't last long.
He was getting more and more strained.
But still persisting.
Sweat gathered into droplets, falling heavily.
Day after day.
What kept him going was Mia and the child in her belly.
She held back her grievances just so he wouldn't give up.
She said that as long as there was hope in the heart, miracles could happen.
She believed in miracles.
So he couldn't give up easily either.
Even though Louis said there was no hope.
He still had to try hard and persist.
Use this month to try for their future.
Maybe there really would be a miracle?
Then he wouldn't have to make that difficult decision.
James's vision blurred from the sweat, his whole body like it was soaked in water.
His palms were also soaked with sweat, losing grip on the handrails from exhaustion.
His body unstable, he crashed to the ground.
"Mr. Smith."
Hawk, who had been standing by, immediately rushed forward.
Together with the therapist, they helped James up.
He only rested briefly, and after recovering some strength.
Started another round.
Before long, he crashed heavily to the ground again.
From the day James started treatment, the scene that just happened would occur frequently.
James fell again and again.
And was helped up again and again to continue.
Mia stood outside the treatment room, watching James fall heavily to the ground again and again through the door.
Each time felt like it landed directly on her heart.
It hurt so much she couldn't help covering her chest.
Crying until tears streamed down her face.
She didn't go in, just stood quietly outside the door, keeping James company from outside.
Watching him work hard for her and the baby in her belly.
Until finally he sat on the ground, completely drained.
He stopped, more sweat drops rolling down heavily from his forehead.
The spot on the ground where he sat was quickly soaked.
He didn't let Hawk and the therapist help him up right away, just sat there quietly.
His hands resting on his legs.
His fingers slowly tightening.
After a while, he finally released his grip.
Signaling Hawk to come help him take a shower.
Before going home, he needed to clean himself up and look fresh.
He didn't want Mia to know.
...
In the evening, Mia returned to Brookside Gardens around the usual time.
After dinner with James, Mia went into the kitchen to brew his medicine.
This was an exclusive recipe from a very famous doctor.
They said drinking it for a week, combined with leg massage, would show some results after a week.
One bowl morning and evening.
Mia didn't trust anyone else to brew it.
Brewing medicine required attention to heat control. She worried Hawk wouldn't be careful enough - a tiny difference could lead to a huge mistake.
Every day she got up early to brew it, watched James drink it before going to work, and personally brewed it for him again in the evening.
After brewing it, she'd let it cool to a drinkable temperature before bringing it to James.
Watching him finish it, she'd have Hawk wheel him to shower.
After his shower and getting into bed, Mia would sit beside him and patiently massage his legs following the doctor's technique.
Carefully and thoroughly, massaging for a full two hours every day, never slacking off or cutting corners.
Because James had no feeling in his legs, he didn't know how well she was massaging.
But he could see she was very serious about it, never once going through the motions.
Back and forth, starting from the top of his thighs down to his calves.
Each time she finished, her clothes would be soaked with sweat.
Several times, he wanted to tell her to stop.
He had no feeling.
It was useless, don't work so hard, it hurt him to watch.
But looking at Mia's serious profile, the words on the tip of his tongue were silently swallowed back.
Her efforts were to give him a chance to stand up again.
So even if she was tired, even if he had no feeling, she still persisted every night.
Until she finished following the technique the doctor taught her.
She'd pull the blanket over James's legs, keeping them warm.
Then get up and go to the bathroom to wash off the sticky, uncomfortable sweat.
By the time she came back to the room after her shower, it was past eleven.
She lifted the covers, lay down beside James, reached out to hug his waist, and closed her eyes tiredly. "James, good night."
"Good night."
James held her and cooperatively closed his eyes.
Mia was truly exhausted.
This past week or so, she'd been running non-stop.
Work, taking care of James, plus early pregnancy - she felt increasingly tired.
But she couldn't complain about being tired.
She grabbed every chance she could to rest.
As soon as she closed her eyes, she quickly fell into a deep sleep.
After she fell asleep, James slowly opened his eyes.
Looking down at Mia in his arms, holding her close - in this short time, she had clearly lost a lot of weight.
Looking at her face that had finally gained a bit of weight now turned back into a thin oval shape.
Nestled in his arms, up close, the exhaustion between her brows stabbed fiercely at his heart.
He gently raised his hand, placing it on her lower abdomen, his eyes reddening.
...
Three more days passed - today marked one full week.
The doctor said as long as she kept massaging for a week, there would be results.
That evening, Mia tried hard to hide her inner anticipation.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she quietly let out a long breath before slowly extending her hand to rest on James's leg.
Her hand trembled slightly, beyond her control.
She steadied herself, her fingertips slowly pressing into the muscles of James's leg.
Bit by bit, applying more pressure.
She didn't look at James, afraid he'd notice.
Just held her breath with effort, trying to judge from his breathing whether he could feel anything.
But even when she used all her strength.
Her fingertips deeply embedded in the top of his thigh, his breathing remained steady.
This meant he felt nothing at all.
She'd clearly told herself not to hope too much, so she wouldn't be disappointed, wouldn't have emotional swings.
But how could she control it?
She so badly wanted him to stand up again.
Not because she didn't want to keep taking care of him, that it was too hard.
But because every time she thought of him in the rehabilitation room, falling again and again for her and the baby in her belly.
Her heart felt like it was being cut by knives.
Mia bit her lip hard, forcibly suppressing her turbulent emotions.
Head lowered, as if she'd never tested him at all, her hand gradually relaxed.
Then continued downward as she had for the past week.
Until the massage ended, Mia went into the bathroom to shower.
The moment the door closed, James, who'd been taking in every expression on Mia's face, reached his hands under the covers.
Digging deeply into the top of his thigh.
His strength was greater than Mia's.
Using all his force, he still felt nothing.
He pinched again and again.
Until he heard sounds from the bathroom door, then quickly withdrew his hands.
...
Mia didn't give up, still continuing to get up early to brew medicine and massage him.
James also continued to persist with rehabilitation.
The bruises on his body grew more and more.
Since starting rehabilitation, he no longer let her into the bathroom.
Didn't let her help him shower.
Didn't let her see the large patches of bruises covering his body.
He was afraid if she saw them she'd feel heartbroken, would cry in secret.
He didn't give up because seeing her not give up made him want to keep persisting.
But day after day.
What they faced was disappointment after disappointment.
From the moment Louis declared his legs were hopeless, he'd imagined what it would be like if Mia stayed by his side.
That's why he'd been so determined to push her away.
Now, the imagination in his mind had all become reality.
He watched as Mia, whom he only wanted to cherish like a precious treasure in his palm, grew thinner day by day for his sake, more and more haggard, exhausted.
Every night, she lay beside him, and he held her.
Clearly feeling her back growing thinner and thinner.
He could only silently grieve after she fell asleep.
He wanted to be stronger, work harder.
Really wanted to see even a glimmer of hope.
But besides disappointment, it was still disappointment.
He could only watch her disappointment, and afraid of him discovering it, she'd carefully hide it away.
This futile persistence.
Was torturing him and dragging her down too.
Really—
Enough!
On the twentieth day, James couldn't hold on anymore.
He couldn't continue like this.
Enduring this dual torture of body and spirit.
A fate worse than death!
That evening, Mia brewed the medicine and placed it on the table, wanting to wait for it to cool a bit before bringing it to James.
She went into the kitchen to clean up.
Just as she entered the kitchen, she heard Hawk's shocked cry: "Mr. Smith!"
He watched helplessly as James poured a bowl of scalding medicine onto his own leg.
Didn't dare to stop him.
The medicine was boiling hot, steaming.
Without looking, you could tell the burn was severe.
Mia in the kitchen heard it, her breath catching.
Frightened, she immediately turned around.
Saw that the bowl of medicine she'd placed on the table had all been poured onto James's legs.
"James—"
She rushed out of the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator, grabbed ice water from inside and rushed to James.
Twisted it open, about to pour it on his leg.
But just as she was about to pour, James raised his hand and knocked it away.
She hadn't been gripping the bottle tightly to begin with, and with his forceful swipe, the bottle flew right out of her hand.
In the moment it was knocked away, Mia immediately realized.
The medicine hadn't spilled on his leg because James or Hawk hadn't held it steady - he'd poured it himself.
He did it on purpose!
The instant she realized this, however heartbroken Mia had been just moments ago, she was now equally furious.
"James—"
Her anger-suppressed question hadn't even left her mouth when James cut her off, "Mia, have you tried enough?"
He sat in the wheelchair, ignoring his severely burned leg.
His gaze fixed straight on Mia, meeting her angry eyes.
"How much longer do you want to keep trying?"
As if he'd endured her to his absolute limit.
As he questioned her, the bowl in his hand was forcefully smashed to the ground.
The porcelain shattered.
A small shard bounced up, sliding across Mia's exposed calf.
Drawing a line of blood beads.
James caught it in his peripheral vision, only tightening his hand, then coldly looking away.
His gaze bore fiercely into Mia as he suddenly raised his hand and began unbuttoning his clothes in front of her.
For these twenty days, he'd never undressed in front of her.
This was the first time.
After unbuttoning, he exposed his body covered in shocking bruises to her view.
Letting her see.
His body's true condition.
Mia wasn't unaware that he hadn't let her look before because he had injuries.
But she really didn't know the injuries on his body were this severe.
Suddenly confronted with it, Mia stepped back, unable to bear it.
Her eyes instantly welled up with heartache, two streams of tears flooding out.
James ignored Mia's tears, still staring at her intently, pressing forward relentlessly, "Mia, don't cry, open your eyes wide and look clearly."
"These are the results of you making me try. Tell me, are you satisfied?"
"Do you know how many times I fall every day when I listen to you and go to rehabilitation?"
"Do you know how pathetic, how miserable I am every time I lie on the ground waiting for someone to help me up?"
He seemed to be recalling the painful wretchedness of these twenty days.
Looking at Mia with resentment so thick it couldn't be ignored.
He looked at her like he was looking at his enemy!
His gaze vicious, full of murderous intent!
"Just how long do you want to keep torturing me?"
"Louis already said I have no hope, and you still made me try!"
"Do those rehabilitations that leave me with no dignity, drink that medicine so bitter it makes me want to vomit, make meaningless efforts!"
"None of it works!"
"Mia, none of it works!"
"I told you, I'm crippled, I'll never stand up again, and you are still forcing me to try!"
James rolled up his pant leg, exposing the large area of scalded, broken skin on his thigh, pointing at the wound.
"No feeling, do you understand? Even with medicine this hot poured on it, I feel nothing! I can't feel pain!"
As he spoke, he scratched at it directly.
The already broken skin instantly became a bloody mess, blood dripping.
"I don't feel a thing!"
A slap landed heavily across his face.