Chapter 200

I flopped back onto the bed to read, but after some time, I realized I was

holding the book upside down. A restless feeling started creeping up on me. I

couldn’t help but wonder about Bryant’s condition. If it was because of that

gunshot, it should have been me, not him.

With my thoughts in turmoil, I closed the book and decided to get some fresh

air on the balcony. Then, there was a knock on the door, followed by Gary’s

voice, “Mrs. Ferguson.”

My steps quickened as I opened the door. “Gary, how’s Bryant? Is he okay?”

Gary said, “Mr. Bryant’s got a fever.”

I let out a sigh of relief, thinking it was just a cold, but then Gary added, “It’s

the gunshot wound from the other day. It got infected. Mr. Bryant won’t let

anyone touch him and refuses to take his medicine.”

“You’re getting a divorce, and I shouldn’t even be here, but he’s been calling

out for you in his sleep,” Gary confessed.

My heart squeezed at those words. “I’ll go see Bryant.”

It was the least I could do.

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Bryant’s cheeks flushed with an unnatural pink, his breathing steady, but his

brows furrowed as if troubled by a weighty concern.

Gary pointed to the medicine on the nightstand. “The doctor just prescribed

these. They should help with the fever and infection.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

Gary said respectfully, “I’ll leave you two alone then. Call if you need

anything.”

Once Gary left, it was just Bryant and me. I reached out to feel his forehead. It

was burning.

As I was about to pull my hand away, he caught it, murmuring in a low voice,

“Honey, Jane… why do you want a divorce? Please, don’t leave me.”

The room fell silent, each word piercing through the quiet and straight into my

heart.

I stood there for a long while before gently patting his face. “Bryant, wake up.

You need to take your medicine.”

His sudden movement caught me off guard, but luckily, I had avoided putting

pressure on his wound, though I could feel the heat emanating from his body.

He was delirious with a fever. He would never have such clarity if he were in

his right mind.

Irritated yet resigned, I pushed back on the bed, trying to free myself from his

grip. “Then make it easy and divorce me. Stop wasting my time.”

“I don’t want to.” His arms still encircled my waist, but his eyes slowly closed

again, his voice fading.

Feverish as he was, Bryant acted like he was drunk.

Frustrated, I pried his hands off and stepped back, but then I noticed

something that made my heart skip a beat.

“Hmm?” He mumbled in response, barely awake.

I leaned closer. “How did you get that burn on your hand?”

In his semi-conscious state, his brows knitted together as if trying to recall,

then relaxed. “I missed Jane… the pain goes away with the burn.”