Report joy, not worry（2）

"Cough cough-" Not sure if it was because the air conditioning was too cold or if she was irritated, Jane began coughing violently.

Covering her mouth, she walked upstairs and, passing Jack's bedroom, suppressed the urge to cough and made sure he was sound asleep before returning to her own room.

For almost two months, her cough had improved, especially recently where she barely coughed even without cough medicine. She thought it was a good sign.

However, tonight's intense coughing and body soreness told her that she was just wishfully thinking.

Pain and sadness swept over her without warning.

She curled up in bed, the tissues next to her pillow slowly diminishing, and the trash can by the bed was filled with bloody tissues.

The night was dark, stuffy, and lonely. Several times, she covered her throat and found it difficult to breathe in the midst of the pain. She couldn't fall asleep until the sky outside the window began to brighten, and she slept very restlessly, dreaming that Jill was beaten one moment and a dirty-faced little boy cried and called for his mother the next.

The dreams were all gray and accompanied by strange and bizarre scenes that made her involuntarily clutch her heart in pain.

She felt like she was crying.

A soft, tender hand wiped away her tears, and a small voice called out to her in fear, "Mommy." She struggled to open her eyes and saw Jack with tears in his eyes, leaning over her pillow and softly calling out to her.

She blinked and struggled to sit up. "What time is it now?"

She reached for her phone on the bedside table and was surprised to see that it was already 11 o'clock, almost time for lunch. She got out of bed to wash up, but as she walked, she found that her whole body was weak and sore, as if she had a severe cold.

Jack followed her worriedly. "Mommy, are you okay?"

Looking down at him, she smiled slightly and said, "Mommy is fine."

Jack couldn't hide his emotions, with a look that was about to cry. His gaze was fixed on the trash can, which was filled with many tissues, all stained with blood. Even the white pillow had a small bloodstain on it.

His mother didn't want them to worry, always reporting good news and keeping the bad news to herself.

Jane noticed Jack's gaze and walked over to pick up the trash can, pouring the tissues into the toilet and flushing them away. When she came out after washing her hands, there was suddenly a man in the room.

The man stood at her desk where she usually composed music. His big, knotty hands picked up a red diary and a photo from the desk, and a photo fell out of the diary.

The man lowered his gaze and stared at the photo tightly. It was unclear what was in the photo, but the man exuded a cold breath, with a slightly bent back, revealing a terrifying power.

His low eyebrows were full of killing intent and coldness.

"Mr. John, it's not very good to trespass into someone else's bedroom, is it?" The man who had been known since childhood could be identified quickly even with just his back.

John's gaze slowly moved from the photo to Jane's face. His thin lips parted slightly, with a bone-chilling tone. "I know everything..."

Jane was puzzled, "What do you know?"

"About your adulterous husband, why aren't you saying anything..."