The Villainess Needs a Hug (Ivy Windsor) novel Chapter 958

Seeing her panic, Director Wylde quickly clarified, "No, it hasn't fallen apart. His condition isn't great, but it hasn't spiraled out of control. The post-operative rejection symptoms are all within our expectations. He's been running a fever these past two days, feeling exhausted and lethargic, so he isn't awake much. That's why there hasn't been any specific news to give you."

As a leading authority in his field, Director Wylde had handled countless cases like this and was completely unfazed by these developments.

But as Ivy listened, her mind automatically conjured images of Jamison lying unconscious, and tears immediately threatened to spill.

"Director Wylde, I want to go in and sit with him," Ivy requested, her voice hoarse.

Director Wylde fell silent, but after a few seconds of consideration, he nodded in agreement. "Alright. Maybe having you in there with him will help him find the strength to fight back."

Ivy changed into sterile scrubs and returned to the Intensive Care Unit, walking straight to Jamison's side.

The moment she saw his face, tears poured down her cheeks uncontrollably.

In just a few short days, his devastatingly handsome face had altered so drastically he looked like a completely different person.

His skin was jaundiced, his eye sockets were deeply sunken, his lips were cracked and dry, and his jawline looked dangerously gaunt.

He lay there in complete silence. If it weren't for the rhythmic beeping of the monitors next to his bed, she almost would have thought...

Unable to stop her tears, she called her husband's name over and over in her mind, but her throat was so blocked by raw emotion that she couldn't make a sound.

The nurse standing nearby gently suggested, "Try talking to him, or gently holding his hand. He might be able to feel it."

Ivy looked at the nurse, her voice entirely broken. "Can I?"

She had assumed he was entirely off-limits to touch, and she hadn't dared to try.

"Just be gentle. It's perfectly fine," the nurse encouraged with a warm look.

Ivy immediately took a deep breath to steady herself. She stepped forward and softly wrapped her fingers around his hand resting on the edge of the bed.

His hand felt so much thinner now, making his long fingers feel rigid and cold.

Ivy carefully held onto it, slowly tightening her grip.

"Jamison... Jamison..." she called out, her voice trembling softly. "Can you hear me? It's Ivy. I came to see you..."

Jamison gave no reaction, remaining completely lifeless in the bed.

Director Wylde had claimed his condition wasn't terrible—Ivy cursed him in her head. Jamison looked like *this*, and Wylde dared to say it wasn't terrible?

She should have demanded to see him sooner.

The nurse quietly slid a chair next to the bed, gesturing for Ivy to sit down.

"I had a really long sleep, and a lot of dreams..." Jamison murmured softly, looking at his wife with profound tenderness.

Ivy kept her tone incredibly gentle. "What did you dream about?"

"I dreamt we were on the edge of a cliff, crossing a log bridge... Suddenly, you fell, and I jumped right after you..."

Ivy frowned. "That's a nightmare. Forget it."

Jamison offered a weak smile. "I also dreamt you were walking ahead of me, holding onto some young guy's arm. No matter how loud I yelled or how fast I chased you, you were always just out of reach..."

Ivy replied, "If you don't get better soon, that dream might just come true."

Jamison knew she was joking and habitually tugged at the corner of his lips. Despite his sallow, awful complexion, the doting affection in his eyes hadn't diminished in the slightest.

"With you here, I'll get better..."

"Yeah. I believe that too."

After so many days apart, they could finally talk. Ivy cherished this fleeting moment.

Jamison's mind grew clearer, and his gaze lingered on his wife, taking in her appearance.