I spent every second of the past four days praying that Christopher would wake up sooner, but when he finally did, I could not bring myself to see him. No matter how much I hate Monica, I had to admit that what she said was true.
I knew she had no ill intentions, but with just a few words, she had managed to change my mind. It would be easier for Christopher to accept my death if they told him I died on the island.
If he knew I died because of a terminal illness—and that he was the cause—he would never walk out of the guilt.
Behind the door, I could hear Christopher struggling to speak with his weak voice.
“Where is Yvonne? She was with me on the island. Did you see her, Mom? She’s the girl who gave you walnut cookies last time.”
“Chris…” Julia was hesitant.
“She’s my wife, Mom. She did everything she could to save me. Please, tell me where she is now.” Christopher was getting agitated. His voice became more assertive, but it soon broke into a violent cough.
“Calm down, Chris. She’s still resting in her ward. I’ll bring you over to see her when you’re feeling better, is that okay?”
“No, I want to see her now. How can I rest here without knowing she’s doing fine?”
A loud thud followed right after, and a commotion ensued. Julia and Gordon were shouting, and the noise grew louder as it got closer to the door. I grabbed Darius’ hand, preventing him from opening it.
I recalled how determined I was when I told Monica I would stick to Christopher even in death, but now that I heard his voice, I knew I loved him too much to let him go through the pain of watching me die.
Christopher was my guardian angel. He treated me like a gem and protected me over and over again. I was the first thing that came to his mind after he woke up. There was no way I could let someone like him suffer because of me.
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