The Last Time I Cried Your Name novel Chapter 524

The sedative the nurse administered in the middle of the night had a long-lasting effect, and Franco stayed right by Petty's side until morning.

For the first half of the night, he simply kept her hand wrapped securely in his. In the second half, she seemed to slip into another nightmare, and her hand—the one he had been holding so gently—suddenly clamped down on his with a desperate, crushing grip.

She held on so tightly.

The hours ticked by. After Franco and Hans had their brief exchange in the dark, neither man spoke another word.

When Petty finally opened her eyes, the room's curtains were half-drawn. There was no bright sunlight streaming in; the sky outside was overcast and gray, making the light easy on her exhausted eyes.

She blinked awake and instinctively curled the fingers of her right hand inward. It was as if muscle memory was telling her she had been clinging to a lifeline right up until the moment she woke up.

"How long was I out?" She pushed herself up against the pillows. Amy hurried over to support her shoulders.

"It's three in the afternoon. You've been asleep for hours, so your blood sugar is probably tanked. Let me help you get washed up."

It was Saturday, meaning Amy had nowhere to be and was spending her day at the hospital with Petty.

Petty had fought so violently against Franco's hold last night, and after lying completely dormant for so long, every muscle in her body ached with a dull, throbbing soreness.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, her face washed and teeth brushed, she found Franco standing in her room. He was holding a tray bearing a steaming bowl of fresh seafood porridge.

He set the tray on the small table and closed the distance between them.

Without a word, he took her hand.

"Eat a little something, and then we'll go see Abacus together."

Petty's breath hitched, her chest trembling. "Is his chemotherapy finished?"

She had just woken up, so her voice was brittle and raspy, making her already frail frame seem even more fragile.

Franco's grip on her hand tightened.

"It's over. Everything went smoothly. But you absolutely have to eat first. Abacus is still in the recovery wing, so by the time you finish this bowl, you should be able to see him."

Petty burst into tears of sheer relief. The nightmare from last night still lingered in her mind—she remembered Franco pinning her down, and she knew the medical staff had sedated her—but she also remembered the promise Franco had made right before the darkness pulled her under.

Today marked the third and final day of Abacus's chemotherapy block.

Abacus was fast asleep in his tiny hospital crib. His breathing was soft and shallow, his little stomach rising and falling in a steady rhythm. One of his tiny fists was tightly clutching the fabric of Franco's white dress shirt, which they had left in the crib to comfort him.

Petty sank into the chair beside the crib, her eyes greedily taking in his peaceful face. Her gaze snagged on his damp eyelashes—the unmistakable proof that he had been crying. Her heart violently contracted in her chest.

The second she turned her head, Franco's large hand was there, guiding her face to bury into his waist.

Feeling her entire body lock up and tremble violently against him, the rims of Franco's eyes flushed red.

"The worst part is over. He's only going to get better from here."

Petty bit her lip hard, sobbing silently against him, but she nodded with absolute conviction.

Her baby had survived the most agonizing phase of the protocol.

With the chemotherapy concluded, they were officially entering the bone marrow transplant stage.

The silver lining was that during this phase, Petty could stay in her protective suit and remain right by Abacus's side. Her visitation window had been expanded from a few miserable hours to full twenty-four-hour access.