CHAPTER 145: CHAPTER 145: CAN’T WE GET THE MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE TOMORROW?

A few words on the phone screen.

Until the screen went dark.

Declan Hawthorne didn’t react at all.

He even wondered.

If he was already dead and was now seeing a scene from a dream.

Or if it was just a flashback before dying.

Those words, he knew each one, but no matter what, he couldn’t dare to piece them together to match what he wanted.

Poppy Hale said.

She wanted to marry him.

Declan Hawthorne suddenly turned his head, accidentally tugging on the oxygen mask, pulling the muscles in his neck.

In pain, cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Poppy Hale reached out to help him fix it.

The two of them locked eyes, seeing probing, uncertainty, and a mist of tears in each other’s eyes.

Poppy Hale’s fingers caressed the corner of Declan Hawthorne’s eyes, wiping away the tears that fell.

People’s body temperature is only thirty-six degrees.

But Poppy Hale felt that the temperature of those tears was about to scorch her skin.

Scorching, burning.

Poppy Hale mouthed silently, "Let’s get married, Declan."

She wanted to completely let go of the past.

But everything from the past was like a shadow.

Always following her.

When she thought she was already standing in the light, the shadow was always behind her.

How could she forget, the past filled with scars and constant closeness.

She still liked Declan Hawthorne.

If she should give herself a chance, Poppy Hale hoped it would be one she wouldn’t regret.

The afternoon made her understand Jackie Barrett’s feelings.

When submerged in water, with breathing deprived, life slipping away.

But at that moment, the human brain becomes calm instead.

Jackie Barrett said, Declan Hawthorne was like his father in this aspect.

She thought, if she lost the gamble, at least Declan Hawthorne sincerely loved Florence Lynch.

No regrets for the move.

Declan Hawthorne looked at her.

The woman in front of him was weak and pale, with no trace of blood on her face and lips.

He thought she was coming to draw boundaries with him.

If everything at the moment was a scene after death, for Declan Hawthorne, it was worth it.

He slowly nodded.

"Alright, we’ll go register tomorrow."

Poppy Hale held her phone, typing.

"Your wound won’t heal by tomorrow, and my vocal cords won’t be better tomorrow either."

Declan Hawthorne shook his head.

"I can sit in a wheelchair, and your vocal cords will recover later."

This might be the most peculiar couple to register in the history of the civil affairs bureau.

Poppy Hale just thinking about the scene wanted to shake her head and smile wryly.

The groom was a patient in a wheelchair.

The bride was a patient who couldn’t speak.

The civil affairs bureau probably wouldn’t dare to welcome them.

Poppy Hale typed, "I don’t want you to look ugly in the photos this way."

"Don’t worry, I won’t regret it halfway."

What she had decided to do after all, needed to be done once.

It was the opportunity she gave Declan Hawthorne.

And also an opportunity for herself.

The youthful heartbeats, all the intense feelings, needed an ending.

The night breeze lifted the corner of the hospital room curtain.

Declan Hawthorne closed his eyes, his Adam’s apple moving up and down.

His throat was very dry, aching and feeling as if it were about to smoke.

But after surgery, he temporarily couldn’t eat or drink.

The strength to speak was down to just a little.

Very hoarse, like a sound after being polished by sandpaper.

"Alright. Once we’re discharged, we’ll go register."

Poppy Hale nodded.

Stood up and tucked in his blanket, showing him her phone.

"I’m going to check on Florence."

"Will you come back?"

The man lying in the hospital bed looked at her eagerly.

Afraid she would leave and never return.

Poppy Hale was uncertain.

"If Florence needs me, I won’t come back. If she’s better, I’ll bring her to see you."

Declan Hawthorne shook his head.

"No need, let her rest well. Arrange some child psychology counseling; I think she might have seen when I got stabbed."

Florence and Anya Archer had been sedated, but Stella Hollis’ parents probably thought the medication was too costly and didn’t give much.

In between, Florence woke up.

When Stella Hollis’ father took the knife towards Declan Hawthorne, Florence widened her eyes and shouted once.

She didn’t shout Uncle Hawthorne, she shouted Dad.

Declan Hawthorne didn’t know if he saw or heard it wrong.

Or it was a hallucination before he died.

At that time, he had only one thought.

To protect Florence well.

If anything happened to Florence, Poppy Hale and Mrs. Hawthorne would probably be heartbroken.

He had been absent since Florence was born.

If there was a chance to make amends, he didn’t mind giving his life.

Declan Hawthorne even thought, fortunately, Poppy Hale didn’t care about him as much as she used to.

Otherwise, she would have been saddened too.

None of these words were spoken.

His throat hurt, not knowing how to start.

Poppy Hale nodded.

She walked out of the hospital room.

After pulling the door closed, she stood at the entrance, still hearing her own heartbeat.

In the room and out, hearts were beating, rising, and falling.

The night was silent, with the occasional whisper of passing nurses, complaining about disobedient patients while cursing overtime.

No one noticed the hidden corner.

Where there were two people with an equally immense feeling of joy.

-

In the past two days, in the hospital room.

Poppy Hale wore a loose hospital gown, holding Florence as the mother and daughter learned sign language together.

Florence was fine.

She only remembered seeing Declan Hawthorne rush to hold her, and then there was a lot of blood.

She didn’t see the most terrifying scene.

Every free moment, Florence would run to see Declan Hawthorne.

Seeing him covered in tubes, she’d start crying.

Rushing back and forth to bring him water and blowing on his wound.

Seeing this softened Jackie Barrett’s heart.

Luckily, Florence was fine, which gave her some comfort.

Declan Hawthorne, as long as there was no life-threatening condition, enduring it would pass.

Poppy Hale was interested in learning sign language.

In case her aphasia lasted a long time, it wouldn’t affect her life.

At the entrance of the hospital room.

Amber Yates and Janine appeared carrying fruit.

Seeing Poppy Hale and Florence, both of their eyes turned red.

Amber Yates rushed over and started crying directly.

"What on earth happened? It’s terrifying!"

Poppy Hale made a few gestures, and Florence translated, "Mom’s vocal cords have a bit of a problem, she can’t speak, so I’ll be translating for her."

Seeing this, Amber Yates cried even harder.

Falling against Poppy Hale’s legs, tears streaming down.

"Mia Quinn was also taken by the police, and you’re hospitalized now, and everyone at the company says Mia Quinn kidnapped you, scared me to death!"

Poppy Hale picked up her phone and typed.

"How is Mia Quinn?"

Janine sighed.

"The police took her, saying they needed her cooperation for investigation."

Mia Quinn herself was quite calm.

Poppy Hale thought of that afternoon when Mia Quinn suddenly appeared, holding down Stella Hollis, starting to beat her.

Understanding in her heart.

Mia Quinn must have always been following and investigating Stella Hollis.

She typed again, "Did the police say anything?"

Janine shook her head.

"No, my husband happens to be a detective, I asked him. He said it hasn’t escalated to a criminal case, the municipal office can’t handle it."

Civil cases and criminal cases are worlds apart.

Poppy Hale frowned slightly.

Typed, "Someone got seriously injured while saving Florence. Isn’t that considered a criminal case?"