Chapter 1172: Bitterness
At just eleven years old, Anne suffers from a hereditary metabolic disorder that prevents her body from properly eliminating waste and perspiring. This condition leads to severe complications, requiring frequent hospital visits and ongoing treatments to maintain her metabolism. Without these interventions, the consequences could be catastrophic.
Despite medical advancements, her condition remains untreatable. It does not immediately threaten her life, but it demands constant vigilance. She must follow a strict diet, adhere to a rigorous treatment schedule, and report regularly to the hospital. Any lapse could result in severe health repercussions, even life-threatening ones.
From a hopeful perspective, Anne can still experience life—she can study, work, travel, and even dream of marriage. However, from a more sobering standpoint, she is tethered to her illness indefinitely, with every moment dictated by medical necessity.
Anne's life has always been one of careful orchestration. Not by choice, but by necessity. Like a delicate glass figurine, she exists in a world designed to protect her, yet one that often feels more like a cage than a sanctuary.
She enjoys small freedoms—a concert, an award show, brief outings with family—but each one comes with restrictions. Every meal is monitored, every routine meticulously planned, every injection a reminder of her fragility. Sometimes, she wonders: is this truly freedom, or just another kind of confinement? Perhaps she is too young to fully grasp the concept. Then again, who can claim to truly understand life?
Many assume that Anne, at just eleven, is too young to comprehend the world. Yet her time at Mount Sinai Hospital has exposed her to complexities that most adults never face—not just suffering, but the intricate web of human emotions that come with it.
The past year has upended her life. First, Alex Ritchie's heart transplant, then Heather Cross's death, and finally, the fracturing of her own family.
After ten years of trying to hold everything together, the Silliman family finally broke apart. Anne's father, overwhelmed by the burden, chose to leave. He not only divorced her mother but also severed ties with Anne, moving in with another woman and vanishing from her life entirely.
His departure left Joss, Anne's mother, to shoulder everything alone. Dealing with betrayal and abandonment, she had no time for grief. She had to act immediately, struggling to manage the family's finances and Anne's expensive medical care. Even if her ex-husband contributed alimony, it was nowhere near enough.
Joss had always worked hard, but now she had to take on extra jobs. She found a night shift position, cutting her daily sleep down to three hours. Commuting alone took another two. She barely had time to eat, let alone visit Anne in the hospital.
Slowly, Anne found herself completely alone.
She never complained. She never cried. Instead, she quietly retreated into books, escaping into stories where she could momentarily forget her reality.
One by one, the people in her life drifted away. Alex, who had once been a frequent presence, stopped coming for follow-ups. Even Renly, who had been a reliable source of support, had vanished. The media offered no news of him. He was simply gone.
Anita hesitated before speaking, her voice heavy. "On her birthday, she asked me… 'Why didn't Renly come to my party?'"
Renly felt a weight settle in his chest. He hadn't known. He could have blamed Joss for not reaching out, Anita for not sending an email, Nathan for not keeping him updated. But those were just excuses. The truth was, he had been too lost in his own world. He had forgotten.
Anita tried to offer words of comfort, but she stopped herself. Instead, she simply placed a reassuring hand on Renly's. "We all have to learn to say goodbye. Volunteers come and go, but you stayed the longest. Don't be too hard on yourself. We're all trying, but we're not saviors."
Renly nodded, understanding the truth in her words. He couldn't save everyone. But at least, through the Heather Cross Foundation, he could help in some way.
"Anita, contact Joss. Have her prepare the necessary documents and apply for assistance through the foundation," Renly said firmly.
"She can apply? I thought the foundation only helped ALS patients?" Anita asked, surprised.
Renly nodded. "The donations exceeded expectations, so we created a special fund for underage patients. I don't handle the approvals, but based on what I know, Anne should qualify."
Anita's eyes widened with realization. "Ellie wanted to help Joss before, but Joss refused. She didn't want to burden Ellie, especially since the Cross family's finances are already stretched. Derek donates most of their income to the foundation. Joss would rather take out a bank loan, but their house is tied up in the divorce..."
Ellie and Derek—Heather Cross's parents. Despite their own loss, they had thrown themselves into the foundation's work, determined to help others. They understood what it meant to struggle, to watch a loved one suffer, and they refused to let their daughter's legacy fade.
Renly sighed. To the public, the Heather Cross Foundation might have been just another charity, something tied to the fleeting fame of the Ice Bucket Challenge. But to those in need, it was a lifeline.
He wasn't a savior. He couldn't help everyone. But he could at least offer a glimmer of hope to those drowning in despair.
A sudden pressure on his wrist pulled him from his thoughts. He turned and saw Anne, newly awake, gripping his hand tightly.
Her wide, nervous eyes searched his face. "Renly?"
Her voice, fragile and uncertain, hit him like a blow.
"Hmm." He smiled warmly. "Did you sleep well? Did you dream?"
"I… had a dream..." she started but quickly shook her head. "No. No dream."
She had dreamt of him, holding onto him like a lifeline, crying into his chest. But she couldn't say that out loud.
Renly didn't press. Instead, he playfully tapped her nose. "Do you need some water?"
Anita, ever perceptive, jumped in. "Time for medicine. I'll get some water." She shot Renly a teasing look as she left—giving them space.
Anne, still clutching his hand, never took her eyes off him, as if afraid he'd vanish.
Renly chuckled softly, shifting so he could hold her tiny hand in his palm. "This is real, Anne. Not a dream. I'm back in New York. It's raining today, or else I'd take you out to a movie."
She didn't answer, just smiled shyly, her gaze unwavering.
And in that moment, words weren't necessary.