He Never Loved Me Until the Day I Finally Left Him novel Chapter 420

Of course Sebastian knew.

He didn't have a single argument against her logic.

The doctor stood frozen, waiting for his final authorization.

Deferring to Helena's agonizing choice, Sebastian gave a curt nod.

He turned his heavy gaze to the doctor. "Do as she says."

Without further delay, the doctor motioned for a nurse to fetch the Do Not Resuscitate forms.

By law, ceasing treatment required the physical signature of a direct guardian.

Up until now, Sebastian had been the one signing every document.

Authorizing every desperate attempt to prolong her life.

But the clipboard handed to Helena carried a far heavier burden: permission to let go.

The moment the ink dried, the medical team would stand back. The next time the baby's heart stopped, they wouldn't intervene.

And the entire staff knew exactly what that meant.

The infant was constantly hovering on the precipice of death.

Helena stared blankly at the clinical legal jargon typed across the page.

Every single printed word screamed the same horrifying truth.

By signing this paper, she was officially condemning her daughter.

She didn't want to do it, but she was entirely out of options.

Lowering her head, she mechanically traced her signature onto the dotted line.

Every stroke of the pen felt like a serrated blade carving a fresh, agonizing canyon straight through her chest.

The suffocating wave of despair threatened to bury her alive.

When the final stroke was complete, she gently handed the clipboard back.

Then she turned her hollow eyes to the neonatologist. "I want to hold her."

"Of course," the doctor agreed softly.

The complex machinery buzzing around the incubator was strictly for active resuscitation.

Since the consent forms were signed, the aggressive interventions were no longer necessary.

The tubes were doing nothing but adding to the infant's suffering.

Disconnecting the tortuous equipment and leaving only a simple ventilator would make her final moments vastly more peaceful.

A nurse carefully extracted the fragile bundle and laid her in Helena's arms.

This time, holding Hope, Helena's posture was much more natural than before.

She cradled the tiny baby securely against her chest.

She could feel the delicate warmth radiating from her, and the faint, fluttering rhythm of her failing breath.

As she settled against Helena, the infant seemed to subconsciously nuzzle closer into the embrace.

Time seemed to lose all meaning in that quiet room.

She held her until the faint, fluttering heartbeat against her chest finally faded into nothing.

A sickening jolt of panic spiked through her veins.

But it was immediately smothered by a crushing, absolute numbness.

"Helena. That's enough. Hand her over to the doctor," Sebastian finally said softly.

She slowly lifted her hollow eyes to meet his.

"She's gone," he stated. It was unbelievably brutal, yet undeniably true.

Helena knew it too. She didn't argue. She just sank deeper into that profound, suffocating silence.

The bond between a mother and child was absolute.

She had felt the exact moment her little girl slipped away.

But she had wanted to be the one to guide Hope into the dark.

Knowing her daughter had taken her final breath wrapped safely in her arms offered a microscopic sliver of comfort.

Even though the sheer horror of this moment would inevitably cast a permanent shadow over the rest of her life.

She was willing to carry that burden forever.

Her arms remained locked around the tiny body, her entire presence completely drained of life and emotion.

"Helena. Hope is gone," Sebastian repeated into the quiet.