Peering through a pane of glass, I saw Oliver, tubes protruding from his body.
"Have you settled the payment?"
Faced with the doctor's inquiry, I felt helpless. "I'm sorry, I can't remember my bank card password."
"Please try again. Your husband's life hangs by a thread; this is when he needs you the most. If the fees remain unpaid, we won't be able to prescribe medications anymore."
"Alright."
With little cash and no place to stay, I lingered at the payment counter all day, repeatedly entering the wrong password.
The staff member at the window said, "Miss, could you please not disrupt the medical order?"
In the evening, I used my last coins to buy two loaves of bread.
Standing at the entrance of the intensive care unit, I tirelessly repeated, "For Oliver."
Doctors and nurses rushed past.
A nurse urgently pulled me aside, "Did you forget again? You need to pay the fee now, not buy bread!"
Seeing my blank face, she sighed in frustration and left.
Someone jostled me, causing the bread in my hands to scatter on the floor.
Tears suddenly welled up.
Feeling utterly helpless, I cried.
The door in front of me opened.
A nurse knelt before me, offering a stuffed toy. "Your husband is awake. He asked me to give you this and tell you not to be afraid, not to cry.
Someone will come later to take you to a hotel."
Clutching the toy, I remembered only one thing, "Oliver is awake."
I waited outside the ICU for days, refusing to leave no matter who asked.
When tired, I curled up on a small mat in the hallway to sleep.
Awake, I survived on food the doctors gave me.
After an unknown number of days, Oliver was wheeled out.
I stood by his bed, holding the toy.
Oliver had lost much weight. Seeing me, he sighed. "What you fear the most happened, didn’t it? Without me, they've been mistreating you, haven't they?"
I burst into tears. "They wouldn't let me buy you bread."
"Don't cry," Oliver held my hand. "It breaks my heart."
I accompanied Oliver into a regular ward.
I clung to his hand, unwilling to leave his side even for a moment.
When strangers entered, I'd cower in a corner, trembling.
Oliver then forbade people to visit him.
Sometimes, he'd struggle to get up and go to the door.
Through the loose fabric of his patient gown, I saw scars—marks of pinches, bites, and bruises. Some were still purple, others freshly healed.
Following behind him, I gently laid my hand on his neck, sensing his stiffness and tension.
"Did I...hit you before?"
Oliver slowly relaxed, adjusting his clothes. "There was no such thing."
"You're so well-behaved, never causing any trouble."
I mumbled, "I lied to you, made you jump off the cruise ship, ruined your company’s IPO."
"It wasn't like that. You're remembering it wrong. Get some rest, and things will improve."
Nesting beside him, I fell into a deep sleep, plagued by a series of chaotic dreams.
In those dreams, I recalled Ivy's face, weeping as she argued with Oliver in the office.
"I regret it. I should never have let Charlotte stay by your side! I'll take her abroad, find the best doctors for her!"
"Do you think I haven't tried that?"
"Why isn't she getting better then? I'm going mad! Every day, she treats me like a stranger. The person I love is right in front of me. Yet I must endure the pain of keeping distance from her., not even speaking to Charlotte! Oliver, do you think you're the only one who loves her? I do too!"
"Shut up!"
Oliver's face hardened. "Ivy, don't say such things in front of me again."
Later, I frantically scribbled on the bulletin board.
Ivy rushed towards me, her face turning green.
She covered my face and yelled at the onlookers, "Scram! Stop filming! Mind you, I'll sue you all!"
"Charlotte, this is Oliver's company. Let's talk about this at home, okay?"
Not heeding her, I reached out to push her away.
"You homewrecker, go to hell."
Ivy grabbed my offending hand, furious. "Don't be crazy. I'm not a homewrecker. Charlotte, apologize to me right now!"
I spat at her. "In your dreams! If you dare show yourself in front of me again, I'll kill you."
Ivy turned ghastly pale, weeping from anger. "Charlotte, please snap out of it. Don't torment me anymore."
That day, I uttered countless illogical insanities, hurting my loved ones and friends.
Oliver and Ivy had a terrible argument. He wrapped me in his clothes and took me to the hospital.
Awakening from the dream, the ward was quiet, with Oliver on the phone, facing away from me.
"My wife is ill. If you hadn't spoken so casually that day, she wouldn't have pushed you into the water."
"But I was just joking..."
The woman's voice on the line sounded familiar.
Oliver's voice was icy. "Calling my wife a burden in front of her, you call that a joke? If not for the villa's surveillance, I wouldn't have known what you did to her."
The woman began to shriek, "I'm her sister! What's wrong with scolding her a bit?"
"Do you even act like a sister? Does your Ashton family think that I would fancy you when Charlotte is sick? Dream on. I deeply regret letting you calm her down. What you did to my wife is unforgivable."
"Aren't you afraid I'll sue her and have her locked in a mental hospital?"
Oliver scoffed. "You're alive and kicking, aren't you? I provided you with the best treatment, so you could bounce back and slander Charlotte instead of being a drowning ghost. You should thank god for that. I'll never let Charlotte bear the guilt of taking a life. If there ever is such a case, it would be by my hands."
Barefoot, I stood up and called out, "Oliver."
Oliver paused mid-speech, silently ending the call.
Turning back, his expression softened.
"What's the matter?"
Finally, I understood why during those tumultuous days, Oliver relentlessly emphasized not to harm others.
"Was it her I spoke to in the villa that day?"
Oliver stretched out his arms and embraced me.
"Yes."
"I nearly drowned her."
"It's alright. She won't die. But for pushing you into the water, I won't let her off."
He sighed softly. "The doctor suggested removing the nursery to avoid further agitation. That's why I asked your sister to help soothe your emotions. I didn't expect she had her own agenda."
After falling ill, my family and friends had given up on me.
Only Oliver hadn't.
Leaning against Oliver's shoulder, I whispered, "I miss home. Can we go back?"
Oliver, the sole beacon in my dark days, held onto hope when all others had abandoned me.
Chapter 10
After returning from City A, I found solace in sitting alone in the corner, staring blankly out the window.
With Oliver having fallen seriously ill, the company was in chaos.
He was so busy his feet barely touched the ground.
We had hired a caregiver at home to watch over me when Oliver was away.
Rummaging through Oliver's pocket, I discovered two movie tickets for 'Ambiguity'.
It dawned on me—he intended for us to see it together.
Unfortunately, on that day, plagued by a sour mood, I lashed out at Oliver and missed our chance.
There was also the ultrasound report of mine, indicating everything was normal.
I wasn't pregnant, yet my delusions had led me to put Oliver through the wringer, preparing a nursery and visiting the hospital for folic acid prescriptions.
They all said Oliver had no family left.
I was his only kin.
Yet, I troubled him immensely.
"Charlotte, what are you looking at?"
It was February, with relentless snowfall outside.
Just a few days ago, the pine tree by the window had snapped under the weight of the snow.
Oliver returned from work, still carrying the chill and scent of snow.
Slightly cold.
I held up the half-knitted sweater, "I'm wondering if you can wear this before winter ends."
"No rush," Oliver sat beside me by the window, "Surely, I'll get to wear it next year." I leaned in and gently kissed him.
Unintentionally, my fingers grazed the ring on his ring finger.
Oliver flinched, about to take it off until I stopped him.
"I remember this." I spread open his hand, examining the unattractive ring. "I designed it."
"Yes."
Oliver lowered his gaze, pulling out another, diamond-studded one from his pocket. "They're a pair."
"But I called it disgusting last time."
"It's alright. If you don't like it, I'll hide it away and wear it again when you do."
I extended my ring finger, "Put it on for me, I really like it."
In the following days, it seemed as though I had truly regained my former self.
Oliver and I would huddle together, flipping through old photos.
He took me along to revisit our past.
Patiently, he mended the frayed edges of my fragmented memories, piecing together our shared history.
Sometime during this, I received a call from my sister, who wept and begged, "Charlotte, please let Oliver forgive me. I truly know my mistake now."
I didn't know what Oliver had done to evoke such fear in her.
Her panic seeped into me, causing me to accidentally hurt Oliver once more.
When I came to my senses, I blocked her number.
In spring, Oliver took me to view the cherry blossoms.
The weather was warm, and my temperamental episodes grew fewer.
Each time, Oliver would smile and praise me, "Charlotte, you're amazing, you've really improved a lot."
But I knew my temper had softened because I could hardly remember much anymore.
Not even why I used to be angry.
On our anniversary morning, upon waking, I followed Oliver around, asking him "Who are you?" five times within ten minutes.
Oliver struggled to maintain his composure, forcing a strained smile.
"Charlotte, I'm your husband, Oliver."
I began frequently forgetting where I was supposed to be.
I often woke up finding myself at the police station.
Oliver, anxiety etched on his face, would rush from some important meeting to embrace me tightly, "It's okay, it's okay."
Caregivers came and went.
For I only listened to Oliver, they feared me and couldn't keep an eye on me.
The doctor suggested Oliver admit me to a nursing home— A place with access control, surveillance, and professionals who could supervise me.
Oliver refused, "I'd rather have her by my side than send her somewhere without me, where she'd be anxious."
Later, he started bringing me to the office.
During meetings, I would sit beside him, playing with building blocks.
One day, in the restroom, I overheard them ridiculing Oliver.
"The CEO of a major listed company, treating his girlfriend like a child, bringing her to work every day, it’s hilarious."
"Maybe it's just a show. After all, stable stock prices keep us fed."
"Well then, here's to the boss and his wife's everlasting love."
"Hahaha, I saw her wet herself, and Mr. Grant even squatted down to clean her.This is disgusting."
I stayed in the bathroom until they were gone.
Looking at my reflection, my shirt untucked from my skirt, the zipper of my skirt misaligned. I tried to fix it but failed.
I knew it was time for me to leave.
