4

But it seemed that even the wilderness was against me.

We hadn't even managed to take a single photo before I had an asthma attack and was sent to the hospital.

Before losing consciousness, I instinctively dialed the emergency contact number, which was Tom's.

The moment the call connected, I heard a disgusting, lewd sound and directly chose to hang up.

I lost consciousness, my heart dead as ashes.

When I woke up, it was that man who was sitting by my hospital bed, looking at me anxiously, "You have asthma and altitude sickness, so why did you insist on coming to Tibet?"

"My husband cheated on me.

I came to vent.

If I stayed at home any longer, I was afraid I would chop him up with a knife."

Perhaps he didn't expect me to be so blunt.

He froze, somewhat embarrassed, and took out his phone from his pocket.

On it were countless landscape photos taken from various angles, so beautiful they took one's breath away.

"Take a look at these.

Will they make you feel a bit better?"

I was stunned, and my eyes gradually reddened.

Finally, I came to a relieved realization: this man wasn't worth it.

In the following days, I completed the Tibet trip together with this man named Charles Hua.

I captured many precious moments, enough to let me let go of all unhappiness outside of life and death.

During this time, Tom didn't send me a single text message or make a single phone call.

I asked Mr.Zhang, and he even tactfully reminded me that Tom and his intern Fiona Lin had taken a few days off at the same time.

The day before the return trip, I packed my luggage and decided to go back and let this ill-fated wild mandarin duck couple be together.

But at this moment, I received a call from my father.

It was the neighbor auntie using my father's phone.

She said my father's old illness had suddenly flared up, and he had been sent to the hospital, requiring a family member to immediately go and sign for surgery.

I was burning with anxiety.

As soon as I hung up, I called Tom.

It wasn't until the thirteenth call that he reluctantly picked up, his voice hoarse and full of morning grumpiness, "Olivia Xu, are you sick? Calling so many times, do you want to die? Don't you know I'm dead tired? You're disturbing my sleep."

I was in no mood to discuss with him why he was still sleeping like the dead when the sun was already high in the sky in Jiangcheng.

I directly shouted, "Tom Hong, my dad's lung disease has flared up, and he's in critical condition at the City People's Hospital.

Hurry and go sign the papers.

I'm booking a flight back right now."

Tom sobered up a bit, probably feeling guilty, but thinking of my outburst just now, he was a bit unhappy, "Okay, okay, don't be anxious.

What's the use of being anxious? Some things are destined.

Alright, alright, I'll go."

Tom went, so at least my father's surgery could proceed smoothly.

I booked the fastest flight without stopping.

Dragging my luggage, I rushed to the hospital.

It was already 2 a.

m.

The operating room light was still red, and only the neighbor auntie was waiting outside.

Seeing me, she seemed to have found her backbone and finally breathed a sigh of relief, "Qiuqiu, you're finally here.

Your dad's condition was too critical, and we couldn't find anyone to sign the papers.

I was worried to death.

Fortunately, the surgeon is a good person.

Seeing that your dad was about to pass away, he'd rather take responsibility himself and performed the surgery first."

I was holding back my anger and asked in a deep voice, "My husband didn't come?"

The neighbor auntie shook her head, "I don't know his number.

Later, when I called you, it was always unavailable.

Your dad's condition couldn't be left unattended, so I kept waiting.

Now that you're back, I'll go home first.

Don't worry too much.

Your dad is a lucky person and will be fine."

A neighbor with no relation could wait until midnight, while Tom, as my husband and the son-in-law my father doted on like his own son, had promised to come to the hospital and stay, but now there was no sign of him.

I sat in the chair, the surging anger in my heart temporarily subsiding when the operating room light turned green.

My father's surgery was timely, and there was no life-threatening danger.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief.

On the third day of taking care of my father in the hospital, Tom finally appeared.

He was carrying a large gift bag and walked into the ward with a beaming smile.

As if nothing had happened, he held my father's hand and said with concern, "Dad, I'm sorry for coming to see you so late.

The company has been too busy, and the boss is keeping a close eye.

I even took the risk of being scolded and specifically asked for leave to come see you today.

Look, I brought you so many gifts."

I glanced at the so-called gifts on the ground, a pile of ties and shirts, all Tom's old things.

He didn't even bother putting them in a gift bag, just directly packed them in a plastic bag from home and brought them over.

It was even the kind used for packing potatoes at the vegetable market.

My father saw it too, but he still forced a smile and praised Tom for being thoughtful.

After Tom left, I covered my face and couldn't help but cry, feeling especially sorry for my father.

I was an unfilial daughter, not only unable to let him enjoy his twilight years, but also making him worry about my marriage right after his surgery.

When I first married Tom, my father originally disagreed.

But I was stubborn, and he didn't want me to have regrets, so he agreed.

He even took out all his savings and gave them to us.

Tom didn't like living with the elderly, so my father took the initiative to move out.

For so many years, he never troubled us.

When he was sick, he endured it himself.

When he had good things, he always sent them to us.

He put his hand on my head, gently stroking it, and said with a smile, "It's okay, daughter.

Dad is fine.

Don't wrong yourself.

Whatever decision you make, Dad will support you."