My health was deteriorating, and my mental state was worsening as well.
Talisa wasn't comfortable leaving me alone at home and wanted to take me to the hospital.
I agreed readily.
There was no other choice; with my current health, I might not be able to get back up the next time I fell.
Talisa asked if I wanted to go back and visit my parents.
I shook my head and refused.
"What would I go back for? To beg for their forgiveness? Or to have them beg for mine? Or perhaps for us to forgive each other and clear the air?"
I pointed at myself. "Going back like this, wouldn't it be like moral coercion?"
"Regardless of whether they forgive me or not, they'd have a hard time moving on. Why bother?"
"In this world, any emotion can be endured except regret. Once someone regrets something, they start to negate their entire life, and deep despair follows. That's truly terrifying!"
Talisa furrowed her brows and asked, "So two years ago, did you regret something?"
I was taken aback and fell silent.
"I don't know." I had forgotten why I tried to take my own life and whether I regretted it.
"But if it were me, if I really wanted to end my life, I would choose pesticide, not sleeping pills."
Talisa had her own life and work, and she couldn't stay with me constantly.
When I was alone in the hospital room, the despair washed over me like a tidal wave, and the heart-wrenching pain nearly consumed me.
This wasn't the first time I had experienced such intense emotional fluctuations.
After losing my memory, I would often feel depressed, wanting to cry, run away, and even die.
Depression, it wasn't hard to guess.
Really, how did I manage to live such a miserable life!
These past few days, I still couldn't reach York, but I sent him messages every day, hoping to elicit sympathy and get him to visit me.
But it had no effect.
Just as I was considering whether to have someone bring him to me by force, he suddenly appeared in my hospital room.
He looked haggard, with a poor complexion, as if he hadn't slept well for a long time, and he had clearly lost weight.
"York!" I called out to him but didn't know how to begin.
He kept his head down, looking at his own toes.
Suddenly, in a hoarse voice, he said, "Can you not die?"
Those words hit the mark, and my eyes instantly welled up with tears; I had to lift my head to prevent them from falling.
I suppressed my emotions and smiled, opening my arms to him. "My dear, I missed you so much, come give Mom a hug!"
York stood motionless, like an orphan who had been abandoned.
My heart ached.
I pulled back the covers, preparing to get out of bed to hug him.
But York took a step ahead and came to my bedside, pulling me into his arms.
He buried his head in the crook of my neck, holding me tightly, his whole body trembling uncontrollably, and a muffled sob escaped him.
Tears blurred my vision, and I suddenly became afraid of the impending death. I really wanted to spend more time with him!
In just one night, York grew up.
He started shuttling between school and the hospital, taking care of me while also focusing on his studies.
His grades improved rapidly, and by mid-term, he had ranked among the top in his grade.
He learned to cook and showed great talent, making different soups for me every day, even though I couldn't drink much.
This made me incredibly envious.
The school was having a consult meeting, and the teacher called, hoping I would attend.
York hadn't even told me about it.
I went without telling him.
York frowned, unhappy.
I could only tell jokes to cheer him up. In fact, my health wasn't so bad that I couldn't leave the house.
Listening to the teacher praise York, I felt incredibly proud and satisfied.
But I had overestimated myself; during the latter part of the meeting, I dozed off.
When I woke up, York's eyes were red again.
He warned me that if it happened again, he would break my legs.
He spoke the harshest words, but when he wiped my hands, his movements were gentle.
He was always like this, saying one thing and meaning another.
Like when I took large doses of painkillers, he nagged that it wasn't good, but also begged the doctor to prescribe more.
I knew I had frightened him.
Because that day, the pain was so unbearable that I couldn't help but bang my head against the wall.
Talisa visited frequently.
One day, while York was away, I wanted to share my final wishes with her.
Talisa covered her ears with her red-rimmed eyes. "I won't listen."
I pulled her hands down. "If I don't say it now, I'm afraid I won't get another chance."
I knew that for all these years, I had been sending money to my parents. I gave Talisa a card, hoping she would continue doing so until they passed away.
"So you want to keep it from them?"
I nodded. "If, if there's even a one-in-a-thousand chance they ask, just tell them I went on a round-the-world trip."
They might hate me and resent me, but it's better than regret.
"And York, I've actually been trying to find his father, the one without a name, but my memories are gone, and I have no leads."
Talisa stared. "Are you planning to entrust your son to someone else? If so, you should trust him to me!"
"Yes, entrust him to you!"
York was old enough, and the money I left behind would ensure he would never lack for anything in life.
I was just worried that when he faced major decisions or turning points in his life, there wouldn't be an elder to support him.
I feared he would be alone and that no one would share in his joys and sorrows.
"So, just be there for him, be there for him, that's enough!"
