Three Years Later, He Came Back Begging novel Chapter 296

Lawrence's entire head was wrapped in heavy gauze, leaving only half of his face visible. A drainage tube extended from beneath the bandages, connecting to a collection bottle.

The pale yellow fluid inside was cerebrospinal fluid.

The exposed skin of his face was an ashen, sickly yellow. His lips were cracked and bleeding, his skin littered with bruises and abrasions.

His eyes were closed tight, utterly motionless save for an occasional, barely perceptible tremor.

Tubes were shoved down his nose and throat. ECG electrodes were plastered across his chest, trailing a messy web of colorful wires to the monitors beside him.

He was covered only by a thin sheet, exposing a torso battered by severe road rash and deep bruising.

Aside from the rhythmic, mechanical beeping of the life-support machines, the only sound in the ICU was Bonnie's own short, muffled breathing.

Lawrence lay completely still. He didn't make a single sound. He looked like all the life had already been drained out of him.

The silence was deafening, the kind that made a person's chest tight with panic.

Truthfully, Bonnie had rarely seen him this quiet. Most of the time, he was like a restless force of nature, overflowing with endless energy.

Sometimes, it even annoyed her.

Whenever she just wanted to sit quietly and read a book, he would drag her out for a run. By the end of it, Bonnie would be panting and exhausted, while he looked like he hadn't even broken a sweat.

Back when they were dating, Bonnie used to complain about it constantly. She would ask him when he was going to just behave for a single day, shut his mouth, and keep her company while she read or sketched.

Lawrence could manage to behave for a day or two, but even then, he was never like this. His presence was always commanding. Even when he wasn't speaking, Bonnie could never ignore the fact that there was a vibrant, living, breathing man in the room with her.

Sometimes he would join her in the architecture studio to help build models. Around her classmates, he was surprisingly quiet, helping her saw wood and assemble pieces. He was actually better at the hands-on work than most of the architecture majors.

Bonnie had loved propping her chin on her hand, just watching him focus.

So, looking at him lying in that hospital bed, hooked up to a dozen tubes with his vital signs threatening to flatline at any second, Bonnie felt entirely disoriented.

It felt horribly surreal.

Bonnie leaned over, crouching slightly by the bed, and gently took his hand. An oxygen sensor was clipped to his index finger, so she was careful not to disturb it, lightly wrapping her palm around his remaining fingers.

"If you just die like this, Lawrence, I'll consider it letting you off too easy."

The fingers in her palm didn't twitch. His body heat felt like it was rapidly draining away. Bonnie had never been present for the death of a loved one before.

She didn't know if everyone's temperature dropped like this right before the end—so cold it made you want to shiver.

Receiving no response, Bonnie forced herself to keep talking. "You don't owe anyone else anything anymore, but you still owe me a lot. So, if you can hear my voice, I hope you have the guts to pull through. Don't just fade away into nothing. You better wake up so you can spend the rest of your life making amends."

"Didn't you always tell me that nothing in life should ever knock me down? You said there was no hurdle we couldn't cross. You told me to be optimistic, that things would always get better."