CHAPTER 57: CHAPTER 57: A LIFETIME IS LONG

The murmuring was intermittent.

Yet it pounded on one’s eardrums and nerves.

In the night hospital, it was particularly clear.

Poppy Hale wanted to say something.

He’s sick, shouldn’t he just have a doctor by his side? What’s he looking for her for?

She couldn’t leave.

Allen Shaw spoke first, "Miss Hale, Declan isn’t cooperating with the medication right now. Can you come? Just think of it as doing me a favor; you name the price."

In fact, Declan Hawthorne had already fallen into a coma.

Morgan Sloan just watched Allen Shaw lie through his teeth.

Thinking, learned something.

Allen Shaw sighed.

"Help me out, Miss Hale."

"Declan is in the gastro department, inpatient unit on the third floor, room 3202."

After speaking, Allen Shaw hung up the phone.

On the other end, Poppy Hale placed her finger over the receiver to muffle the beeping busy signal.

Worried about waking up Mrs. Hale.

On the hospital bed, Mrs. Hale turned over.

"Go."

She turned sideways, looking at her daughter, who’s absent-minded and holding the phone.

"I don’t need anyone here. You go."

"I didn’t..."

Mrs. Hale interrupted Poppy Hale’s instinctive defense, "You’re my daughter. Don’t you think I know you? Remember when your dad bought fried chicken, I wouldn’t let you eat it, and you wanted to wait until I fell asleep to secretly eat it? That’s the same expression you have now."

Back then, Mrs. Hale saw through Poppy Hale’s intentions.

She found that fried chicken and threw it away.

Poppy Hale cried for a long time until Mr. Hale secretly coaxed her, promising to buy her another serving.

Thinking of those days, Mrs. Hale lay on her back, her mind filled with memories.

In the double-occupancy room, the family of the patient on the next bed was not present.

When Mrs. Hale spoke, she kept her voice low, so she wouldn’t disturb others.

Ms. Truth Hale, in her younger days, was a forceful and commanding figure.

After experiencing the deaths of her mother-in-law and husband, her daughter giving birth alone, changes at home, and her own illness,

her sharp edges softened.

She spoke softly, "Now you don’t have to wait for Mom to fall asleep. Whatever you want to do, just go do it."

Poppy Hale had forgotten about those past events.

Now hearing Mrs. Hale talk about them, she remembered that afternoon and the box of fried chicken she never got to eat.

She took her mother’s hand from under the covers.

Holding it in her own.

"Mom, it’s not that I’m waiting for you to fall asleep; it’s that I’m not sure myself, whether I should go or not."

Between her and Declan Hawthorne, it was already the past.

Rationally, she should stay as far away from him as possible.

But in her mind, all she could think of were the fragmented murmurs Declan Hawthorne had just uttered.

In the past, she had indeed told him many times,

"I like you the most, I’ll like you for a lifetime."

A lifetime is a long time.

As long as six years.

She held Mrs. Hale’s hand, looking at the arm that had grown thinner from illness, repeated needles, and blood draws.

As people age, their skin becomes loose, just hanging loosely on the bones, which made Poppy Hale’s heartache.

"Compared to all this, I’m more worried about your surgery tomorrow. I saw Dad off; you can’t be that heartless."

"Mom, I need you, Florence needs you too."

Mrs. Hale sighed and closed her eyes, acknowledging Poppy Hale’s words.

She turned her hand to clasp her daughter’s soft, warm hand.

"Mom knows."

"Since you’re unsure whether to go, if it were an ordinary colleague in the hospital, shouldn’t you go visit them for the sake of sentiment and propriety? Let alone, it’s your superior."

Poppy Hale didn’t know.

How did Mrs. Hale know that the person in the hospital was Declan Hawthorne?

"That young man is in this hospital too?"

"Yes, on the third floor."

Mrs. Hale was on the fifth floor.

Room 5202.

Directly opposite the room where Declan Hawthorne was staying.

"Then go take a look. Buy some fruits on your way down, just as a courtesy. Do I need to teach you about social niceties and manners?"

Mrs. Hale’s words made sense.

Poppy Hale sat still without leaving.

"Mom, aren’t you curious about my relationship with him?"

"Besides being your superior, is there any other relationship?"

Mrs. Hale’s eyes were bright.

Her eyes held a little joyful anticipation.

Poppy Hale stood up, tucking the covers around Mrs. Hale, "There’s no other relationship. I’ll go see him and come right back. You rest first. You’ll have surgery tomorrow."

"Got it."

Poppy Hale took a deep breath, closed the ward door, and left.

After she left, the patient in the next bed finally spoke up.

Their eyes full of approval for Poppy Hale.

"Miss Hale, your daughter is really sensible. Is she seeing anyone?"

"Single, but my granddaughter is already two years old."

Talking about Florence, Mrs. Hale’s face was bright with joy.

The daughter was right, they still needed her.

Without her, her daughter would struggle even more raising Florence alone.

She had to get better quickly.

The neighboring patient sat up, "Having a child is no problem. It’s a good time to cultivate feelings while the child is young. My son, twenty-eight, and still single. How about introducing them tomorrow?"

Upon hearing this, Mrs. Hale perked up.

"Sure, sure, let’s have the kids meet first. If they click, we won’t have to put in much effort."

The two quickly agreed.

Even the worry about the impending surgery the next day eased a bit.

They were feeling delighted.

Downstairs in the ward.

Poppy Hale went downstairs to buy some congee, knowing that since Declan Hawthorne was in the gastro department, fruits wouldn’t do.

The moment she appeared on the third floor, Morgan Sloan breathed a sigh of relief.

He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead.

Opened the door to let her in.

Not saying anything.

Declan Hawthorne was already awake, sitting there with his eyes closed, listening to Allen Shaw’s endless chatter.

"Just take the medicine, your body is your own."

"I won’t."

Hearing the door open, Allen Shaw adjusted his glasses, looking up.

Standing at the door was a woman in a blue sleeveless top and white wide-legged pants, bearing a touch of a Hong Kong style. Such clothes demanded a good figure and presence, yet even without makeup, she was still striking.

Indeed, she was beautiful.

Also elegant.

She appeared aloof with a faint touch of pride, which was most captivating.

No wonder Declan never forgot her. Even when he thought she was still married, he couldn’t let go.

Allen Shaw greeted her politely, "Miss Hale? I’m Declan’s childhood friend, and here’s my business card."

He handed over a gilded card.

Poppy Hale took it and glanced at it, Executive President of Purity Group, Allen Shaw.

Previously, Amber Yates had complained about how absurd it was for a company named Purity Group to have a major shareholder with the last name Shaw.

Adding a touch of humor.

"President Shaw, I’m just here to see President Hawthorne, and I’ll be leaving soon."

Allen Shaw quickly stood up, holding his phone.

"Hey, Euro, how should we modify that contract you mentioned? I’m free now! Let’s talk, buddy!"

He made an excuse and left.

Striding away.

He also took Morgan Sloan, who was standing guard at the door, with him.

In the hospital room, only Poppy Hale holding the congee, and Declan Hawthorne who refused to take his medication, were left.

She placed the congee on the bedside table, looking at those pills.

"President Hawthorne, are you alright?"

Declan Hawthorne’s gaze remained fixed on Poppy Hale; wherever she went, he watched.

His voice was hoarse.

"Why did you come?"

"President Shaw called me to come. Seeing that you’re fine, I’ll just leave."

After putting down the things, Poppy Hale was about to leave.

Her wrist was grabbed by someone.

The man’s hand applied a bit of pressure.

"Don’t go."

"I’ll pay you overtime."