Amelia's eyes widened. "It's not kind of you to lie to them like this. I think Aunt Sierra and Maryanne have cried till their eyes are swollen now."
Milton said, "I don't want to either. I was forced by them, wasn't I?"
Amelia disagreed, "But even if you can hide it from them for a while, you can't hide it from the doctor."
Milton brushed it off, "It's okay. It's easy to bribe the doctor."
Amelia asked, "Then why did you keep calling my name when you were sick? Were you asking me to come over and help you?"
Milton felt a little uneasy and said, "You can say that."
In fact, he was not.
He was in complete unconsciousness when he called out for Amelia in his dream. But he could not tell her this, or all his previous efforts would go to waste.
Hearing that Milton pretended to be ill, Amelia heaved a sigh of relief and shifted into a more comfortable position. "What do you want me to help you with?"
Milton coughed and said, "Please help me to persuade my mother, she'll listen to you. Remember to describe my condition more miserably. Tell her that if she continues to force me, I may end up dying from depression."
Amelia said angrily, "Are you out of your mind? Talk about dying when you're fine!"
Milton was reminded of the younger Amelia, who threw tantrums whenever she was unhappy. Full of nostalgia, he could not help but pinch her cheek and said, "Don't get angry, my little princess."
My little princess.
That was Milton's nickname to Amelia when they used to play make-believe.
Amelia fell silent, pursing her lips.
Even if it was a joke, she was too embarrassed to call Milton 'my little prince' in return since she was married now.
Patrick was leaning against the corridor. When he saw Milton reached out and touched Amelia's face, his mood loomed.
Patrick put out the cigarette butt on the handrail in the corridor, and then strode into the room.
At the same time, Milton lowered his hand.
Before Amelia could ask anything else, Patrick appeared in the room and announced coldly, "Time's up."
The way he said it seemed to remind her of her death sentence.
Amelia subconsciously took a look at the clock and found that the second hand had only just passed the number twelve.
Patrick really walked the talk. One minute meant one minute, not even allowing one second more.
Amelia kept her promise, got up, and said to him, "I'll go with you right now."
Seeing that she was about to leave, Milton immediately added before he ran out of time, "Amelia, remember what I said to you."
Amelia withdrew her gaze and nodded. "Don't forget to drink more water and rest. I'm heading back first."
Patrick could not bother to watch them banter. He walked over and wrapped his arm across the chest of Amelia, pulling her away like a doll.
"Patrick, you'd better be gentler!" It was not Amelia who said that, but Milton, who could not stand to see Patrick's barbaric action.
Patrick stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking at Milton with contempt. "Wasn't your experience from last time impressionable enough?"
Milton was not convinced. "If you didn't rely on your numbers, I might not have lost."
Amelia was dismayed for a moment. What were they talking about?
"It's easy to know who's the winner." The imposing manner of Patrick soared. "When you're well, let's find a place to find out."
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